#;; we've all done this before (dash games)

[advertisesouls]

should've gotten these up sooner but oh well

blog tags and ship / character tag with @praeteritus-memories' alastor!

🔥 VISAGE → Hell's top advertiser at your service! if you want your fifteen minutes I'm the one to talk to. 🔥 MUSINGS → never the type to just kiss and tell — perhaps this will offer a glimpse of what she really is like. 🔥 AESTHETICS → who can deny the siren call of finer things? these items speak of who she truly is. 🔥 INBOX → you've got a new request! just who is it from? 🔥 DESIRES → this is just my way of unleashing the feelings deep inside of me. 🔥 MUSIC → we've got a special request from our caller. 🔥 MANNERISMS → she only lets people see the mask as every action is calculated. 🔥 WARDROBE → proper attire makes the appearance as they say but even she likes fancy garments. 🔥 STUDY → facets of who she really is underneath the calculating expression and demeanor.

🔥 OUT OF THE OFFICE → leave a message with my receptionist. 🔥 PROMOTIONS → a service? a product? a new book? whatever it is I'll promote it. 🔥 SELF-PROMOTION → of course you get a full page spread — it's YOUR paper after all! 🔥 DASHBOARD COMMENTARY → and just what is the rumor mill circulating today? 🔥 DASH GAMES → it's all fun and games until someone's bankrupt from monopoly.

🔥 RADIOFIRE 📻 i just want to start a flame in your heart; my soulmate; my other half — with you I feel whole. 🔥 ALASTOR 📻 the radio demon to most but to me he's the reason my heart has healed with his love and charm.

🔥 VERSE: BEFORE THE DAMNATION 🔥 a heart full of hate that's closed off; may the world burn for what it's done. 🔥 VERSE: HELL IS NOW YOUR HOME! 🔥 a second chance to continue the streak; from nothing to something almost overnight.

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 3/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

>PART ONE< / >PART TWO<

I'll spare you from everything, if you would still have me, I'll be waiting all my life

General Warnings: pining and longing and fluff galore!!! I think maybe sexual references but who remembers atp. angst (slut shaming, mentions of past relationships and I can't think of a better way to say daddy issues we've all been there)

A/N: we did it, Joe!!!! desktop tumblr really didn't want this to happen!!! I can't believe I finished this!! thank you guys so much for reading, and liking, and messaging me and reblogging and all the commentary, and all the love!!! I appreciate it so much!!

if there is a crossover of readers of on your side and readers of this fic (first of all ily) there is a little oys easter egg in here!! did I think through the logistics of this being set in the same universe? no. did I have fun anyway? yes. I fell in love with writing Luke in that fic so it was only right for me to add it in here!!

Happy New Year to everyone, thank you for reading my work!! 2024 was the year I finally plucked up the courage to write all my random thoughts down and the fact that it spiralled into this blows my mind a bit, but I'm grateful to be here!!

You can distinctly remember the first time you had properly taken notice of Luke Hughes, and it wasn’t back in the restaurant at the club like he probably thinks.

It had been early November, in your freshman year.

Ellie had finally convinced you to join her at one of the games at Yost, and you were bundled up in a coat two sizes too big, the only thing you had remotely close to team colours, and the only thing likely to keep you warm enough to tolerate a whole game and warm-ups.

You were watching the boys skate around, and he had caught your eye in an instant. 

“Who’s that one?” You had asked, pointing down to where number 43 was reaching out awkwardly to sweep up pucks with his stick. You could see the soft brown curls peaking out the back of his helmet from all the way in the stands, and his height made it unmistakable to realise that you recognised him.

He had come up to you at a Halloween party the week before, and if you hadn’t been so preoccupied by the fact that your only-just-ex boyfriend at the time was in the same room, his tongue down another girl’s throat, you might have been endeared by the boy in the dog costume. 

Friendly smile, boyishly handsome features and warm eyes that under any other circumstances might have made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him - you vaguely remembered the gift basket, and you knew he was in a couple of your classes, but you had never really spared him more than a fleeting glance before that party. 

As soon as he had noticed your teary eyes upon approach, his demeanour had changed in an instant, and where anyone else might have backed off, might have been uncomfortable or deterred, done a u-turn and given up on his mission to approach, his expression had softened - worried and caring in a way that made your throat go dry, and you had to dash off to the nearest bathroom to splash your tears away.

“That’s Luke,” Ellie had told you, “Luke Hughes, Jack’s brother.”

“Oh,” You had pouted, disappointed. Jack had made it painfully obvious that he wasn’t your biggest fan the first time you had met him, and if you’re honest, you were hardly a great admirer of his, either. 

Ellie had noticed your expression, had nudged you with her elbow until you took your eyes off of the figure on the ice, and had narrowed her eyes right at you. “Why?”

“He’s in a couple of my classes, is all,” you shrugged, eyes travelling back and finding him in an instant.

“Luke’s cool. You’d eat him alive, though, probably get bored within a week.”

“I wasn’t thinking about him like that,” you frowned, watching him skate around the ice with the grace and enthusiasm of a clumsy puppy dog. Cute. “Just curious.”

“He’s waaaay too nice for you,” she scoffed, and you had tried to swallow down the pang of offence you had felt, knowing she had very little of your past to compare him to. The two of you had only been roommates for a couple of months at that point, and she had only ever seen you interested in your ex. “He’s also kind of a like a little brother to me. Dorky and annoying, but I’m very protective of him.”

You had bit your tongue at how patronising that had sounded, knowing Ellie was one of the youngest people of your freshman class - a July baby - and Luke might even have been older than her. 

“Like I said, just curious.”

You had noticed Luke a lot more after that, though.

A quiet, recurring presence.

A seat behind you in business comms, a figure against the wall in the corner of the room at different parties, on posters that lined the walls and the perimeter of Yost Arena, in articles you edited for extra credit in the Michigan Daily. 

You had even made small efforts to get him to talk to you - never being the type to make the first move, yourself - started talking to his friends, some of the guys on the hockey team, had made sure his name was on the list for your sorority parties, you’d even dropped your pen once in class, and he’d just handed it back over with a soft smile, never uttering a word.

You wouldn’t call it a crush, but it was somewhere around the borderline of that - especially looking back after the summer you shared with him.

And you think, in retrospect, that if he’d have ever made a move, would have spoken to you even just once after the incident at the Halloween party, you probably would have developed one.

You hate to admit it, now, but he had been right all those weeks ago in the restaurant. 

He’s kind of inevitable like that.

By the time he disappeared in your sophomore year that little spark of something had mostly fizzled out, but it didn’t entirely stop you unintentionally keeping tabs. Stats that cropped up on the sports channels, articles in the paper, posts on your instagram feed.

And you don’t know what you would call it, the way he kind of stuck with you, but when you’d seen him in that booth in the beginning of summer - when he’d spoken to you in full sentences, had met your eye and held contact in a way that sucked you in like a vacuum - you kind of felt that spark reignite.

The boy you almost, kind of, could have known, once upon a time, finally making the effort to get to know you.

And Luke Hughes is persistent. You have a detached admiration for just how much. He pushes, and he presses, and he perseveres until all your resolve is gone - resolve you’ve spent years mastering, with quick wit and snark protecting your heart from anyone who dares to take aim for it.

But that detachment is waining. 

Especially as you lay on your front on your childhood bed, the NHL awards playing on the TV in your room back at your mom’s house, and you try to busy your hands with the crotchet kit you had picked up from the mall before you came home for a couple of days. 

Your admiration is blooming and blossoming in the depths of your stomach into something intricate and uncontrollable. 

And it has nothing to do with his name, his career, the award he is nominated for.

It’s just him. 

Larger than life on your TV screen, but it still doesn’t capture him in his entirety, and you think for the first time that you miss him. You miss movies in his bed, you miss watching him from the passenger seat of his BMW, the sun shining from the window beside him, illuminating his profile until you burn from the glare. You miss his stupid jokes and his teasing smiles, and you miss the warmth in your cheeks when he looks your way.   

And it’s only been like 2 days.

You miss Luke Hughes.

You kind of think you missed him before he even left.

You might have even missed him before you knew him, but that would be crazy, right?

Maybe he makes you crazy.

Maybe you need this week to recuperate, to attempt to build those walls back up before they’re damaged beyond repair. 

Luke hadn’t given much thought to missing you before he and his brothers left for Vegas. He’d been so caught up, internally, about his and Quinn’s nominations, that he had thought it would continue to distract him the whole time they had been out there, but boy was he wrong.

All he remembers about his trip is thinking of you, and when the boys got back, and you had been visiting your mom for the weekend, all he could do was think of you more.

He thought of you when they sat at the table for dinner, and your place across from his was empty. He thought of you when he watched movies alone, thought of texting you some sort of commentary as he worked his way through the list of rom-coms you had given him, but you hadn’t texted him yet, so he gave up quickly on that idea.

He thought of you in bed, thought of the last time the two of you had been in there, together, and if he’s honest, he thinks of that almost all the time. Of messy kisses, wandering hands, and connection so deep he doesn’t think it will ever fizzle out. 

And when he finally sees you again, he thinks he might have to get Quinn to source some sort of defibrillator for the house, because he swears his heart stops beating.

You poke your head into his bedroom, a shy smile on your face, and your bag is still on your shoulder, which means he had been your first stop, before you’d even gone to drop your things in yours and Ellie’s room. 

He sees you in the reflection of his mirror, and turns immediately, clumsy fingers releasing the tie he’s been struggling to get right for a couple minutes, and steps toward you before he can even begin to tell himself not to seem so eager.

“You’re back!” He grins, and when your face lights up in return, he can hardly find it in himself to care anymore how down bad he comes across.

“Yeah,” you breathe, stepping into the room, discarding your bag by the door and shuffling toward him. “You didn’t have get all dolled up for my return.”

You reach to take both sides of the tie into your hands, and he feels himself go warm all over at the mere proximity of you after so long apart. 

“It’s my cousin’s wedding,” he tells you as you start to knot the tie, knuckles brushing slightly across his chest until he’s holding his breath, lungs expanding so that he feels your touch a little more. “They’re having their reception at the club, later, you should come down.”

“You’re asking me to your cousin’s wedding?”

“Not like that,” he chuckles nervously as he looks down at you, eyes focused on the task at hand. “Just, haven’t seen you in a week, wouldn’t want to leave you here alone, it could be fun.”

Not to mention the fact he’s been watching the door for the past two days while he’s been home, waiting for you to get back and hoping it would be before the event, and he could figure out some way to ask you.

“You can’t just invite a random person to your cousin’s wedding reception, Luke.”

“She said I could!” He reasons, frowning when you raise a brow at him. “Not a random person, she said I could bring a friend.” He grasps gently at your hands as they straighten the fabric, halting your movements. “We’re friends, right?”

“If you say so.”

That wasn’t a no, he thinks, courage building within him in such a way that he starts to buzz with it. That would definitely have been a flat out no, before.

“You’d be doing me a favour.” He bargains, still holding your hands against his chest. “Quinn and Jack are bringing Josh and Turcs, I’d be like a fifth wheel,”

“So what you’re telling me is that you have no other friends?”

“Sure, if that’s what tugs at your heartstrings.” He has plenty of friends he could ask. Eddy, Duker, Luca - they’re all in town. None of them would look as pretty in a dress as you would, though. He wants to say there’s no chance of any of them kissing him after a few cocktails, but that would probably be a lie. “C’mon, they’re not gonna be checking IDs at the bar,” he wiggles his eyebrows in an attempt to convince you, “The free bar.”

“I don’t have anything to wear to a wedding,”

“What about that blue dress you wore to the formal last year?”

He remembers his throat going dry at just a picture - frosty baby blue silk against glowing skin, hair falling past your shoulders, the prettiest smile he’s ever seen in every photo.

And that is where misplaced courage gets him, he thinks. Letting slip that he has been creeping on your Instagram like some deranged stalker, because where else would he have seen you in that dress? He’d been in Jersey, by then. Scrolling down his timeline and swiping at every photo dump in what he didn’t even realise at the time was an obvious attempt to catch a glimpse of you.

Idiot.

“That was Ellie’s dress. I think she gave it to the Goodwill or something.” You frown, barely even picking up on his slip - unaware to the point that his heart rate can level back out to normalcy.

“You’ve got time to go shopping, you could get another,” he shrugs, reaching into the pocket of his pants. “Here, take my card.”

“Gee, thanks, Daddy Warbucks,” you push at his hand when he attempts to give it to you.

“I’m not adopting you. I’m more like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman.”

“Are you implying I’m a prostitute?”

“No,” he scoffs, only because, unintentionally, he totally was, and now he can’t get the picture out of his head - you in thigh high boots, legs for days stood out of the blue skirt, and the white top with the cutouts, soft summer skin he’s been missing the touch of peaking through - and he starts to wonder if that would be too much too soon to ask of you; to dress up for him like that. Maybe for halloween, if the two of you have progressed past whatever this is, by then. Keep dreaming, Hughes, he can already hear you saying. “More like a sugar baby.”

“I don’t need your money.”

“I’m trying to do something nice for you.”

“You don’t have to buy me things for me to like you.” You pout, and his own lips curl up at your defensiveness - so eager to prove yourself to him over something he isn’t even actually pressing. 

“Because you like me already?” He can’t help himself, a small voice in the back of his mind telling him to push, push, push at your buttons until you practically malfunction - craving you in whatever disoriented state it was that he had seen you in last, pliant and willing and crumbling so nicely for him to scoop up and piece back together. “Because you missed me?”

He shouldn’t want that - want to have to hold you in place, that is, not really - but he does. He wants to be the one that gets you like that. The only one. 

“What time’s the reception?”

That should also have been a flat out no.

Interesting.

You give in so easily, then, to the point where Luke gets giddy, letting you know when and where he wants you - always and anywhere, if he’s honest - and you roll your eyes as you agree, but you stay right in front of him long after you’ve finished with his tie, and he’s so tempted to kiss you that he’s buzzing with excitement. 

He sneaks a kiss to the corner of your mouth - quick enough that you don’t push him away, or make any sort of comment about it, and darts down the stairs at Quinn’s calls for him, leaving you to figure out whatever it is you need to do to be ready for later.

And he thanks his lucky stars that later comes before he has the chance to really dwell on it. His day passes in a blur, the ceremony over in a flash, family photos taken before he even realises he doesn’t need to force a cheesy smile, and only brief moments spared over the course of the early afternoon to think about the things he’s lacking.

As he sits in the church between his brothers, he realises that he wants to be sitting with an arm slung around you and a hand in your lap - your fingers swirling absentminded shapes into his palm as the two of you watch the ceremony side by side. Wants to look down at you staring up the aisle in bewilderment, a soft flush to your cheeks, a dopey grin on your face and a far-off look in your eyes. Wants to mutter stupid jokes in your ear and watch you twist your lips to bite back a giveaway smile. 

As he rides over to the club in the back of Quinn’s car, sandwiched between Alex and Josh with his brothers up front, he thinks he’d kill to have you in his lap - as illegal as that may be, but it’s only 5 minutes, and he’d make sure you were safe with an arm curled around your waist.

And when he’s waiting in the reception hall at the club, the late afternoon ticking into early evening, hearing speeches about falling in love and finding your person, he wants you in the seat beside him. Wants to rest his arm on the back of your chair, play with loose strands of your hair or stroke soft fingertips against your warm skin, and press gentle kisses into your temple.

It’s alarming how quick these thoughts consume him - his college years spent pining, his summer spent basking in whatever attention you choose to give him - and he can’t help but let himself be carried away with the hope of it all, that maybe he is wearing you down enough to give in to such thoughts.

Especially when he sees you walking in, and he swears the world has started moving in slow motion like a scene fresh out of one of those rom-coms you keep trying to subject him to.

His legs stretch without any instruction from his brain, pushing himself up onto his feet until he can make his way over and meet you halfway.

Your eyes light up and your hand lifts in a nervous wave as you start heading straight for him, the action causing the thin spaghetti strap of your dress to fall down your shoulder. 

“Hey,” he breathes out, in what feels like relief, mouth breaking out into a dreamy grin until you’re right in front of him.

“Sorry I’m a little late, it took me forever to find a dress, and then my hair wouldn’t go right, and then the Uber took every back road known to man despite me literally telling him,” Luke reaches to readjust the fallen strap as you talk, fingers trailing ever so slightly against the soft skin of your shoulder, “That I knew a quicker way, and then we ended up at those lights over on Palmer for like 10 minutes, I think I was in that car so long I’m all crinkly.”

His eyes drop slowly down your figure, the silky fabric clinging to your curves in all the right spots, the soft yellow a perfect match to the tie around his neck. “You’re beautiful,” he reassures you with ease, cheeks flushing ever so slightly when your eyes meet his - but he’s used to that, by now, the way his head goes hot when you look at him. “I was gonna get a drink, do you want one?”

He extends his hand out to you in invitation before you even nod in response, and when your fingers slide between his, the heat that is swirling around his head and face starts to spread down, past his neck, into his chest, settling there as the two of you make your way over to the bar. 

This last week without you has been hell.

Sat in his hotel room in Vegas, checking his phone for any sort of update - a text, an instagram post, a story - and wondering if that night before he had left had been playing on your mind the same way it had on his. 

Soft, slow kisses pressed into reciprocated lips, hands memorising every inch of each other’s bodies, desperate but intentional movements into one another. It was hardly his first time, but God, had it felt like it. It was definitely the first time he had ever felt anything that deep for another person - felt so connected, so attached.

And, despite the lingering insecurity that he thinks he might always feel when it comes to you, he knew you felt the same.

You had told him in the simplest terms - you wanted him - but you had shown him so much more. Eyes stuck on his as he moved against you, foreheads pressed together, lips seeking his at every given opportunity, nails scratching at the broad expanse of his shoulders when he had taken the lead and flipped the two of you over. 

Gasps and moans, pleading and pining, begging and singing for him as you came undone for the first, second and third time. 

He doesn’t know how you can possibly even try to carry on pretending you don’t feel even an ounce of the infatuation he does.

Not when you look at him the way you do, eyes sparkling and wanting. Not when he had spent the past week pressing his fingertips into the bruises you had kissed again into the lowest part his stomach like that had become your spot, hoping he could aggravate them enough to linger until you could make some more. 

Not when, even though the two of you have been stood at the bar now for a good few minutes, you haven’t made any efforts to take your fingers from where his are playing with them between the two of you.

“You never answered my question, earlier,” he hums as the two of you wait for your drinks.

“You talk so much, Hughes, you’re gonna have to remind me which question that was.” 

“Did you miss me?” His head tilts with curiosity as he watches the hesitation cross your features, lashes fluttering as you look up at him with your lips pressed together to keep them from spluttering out the truth. “I missed you.” He admits, in the hopes that expressing his candour might elicit the same in you.

“I’m surprised you found the time, you looked very occupied on your brothers’ stories.” Bingo.

“You been keeping tabs on me?” The smirk that accompanies the question is instinctual, and he manages to catch the slight shift in your demeanour before you can retreat, closing his fingers around your hand before you can pull it away. 

“No,” you scoff, and when you pull insistently for him to release your hand, the strap of your dress falls loose down your arm again, Luke’s eyes following before he fixes it for you once more. “Just stumbled across some pictures, I guess,”

“Yeah, you just tripped and fell into stalking me?”

“Don’t act like you weren’t doing the same, I saw those little 3 dots come up so often I was starting to think you were typing up the entirety of War and Peace.”

Which means you’d been lingering in your message thread with him, too. Gotcha.

“You know, the world won’t end if you just admit you missed me.”

“Fine.” It slips out before you know what you’re saying, eyes widening like a deer in the headlights as you realise you’ve already given in. “I missed you.”

He smiles, but doesn’t press, and it’s a smile that lingers as the two of you just look at each other, his eyes drifting down to watch your lips twist and press together, biting back whatever insult or chirp you’re just dying to throw his way to cover up. He waits for it to come, but loves that it doesn’t, and loves even more that you’re holding onto the moment as much as he is. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Luke asks a while later, once the two of you have gulped down a couple of drinks, have sat with the others for a little, and he’s watched you watch the dance floor with a yearning gaze.

Your eyes meet his after he poses the question, a confidence in his demeanour that has you crumbling immediately.

You nod, allowing him to guide you over to where a few other couples are swaying on the dance floor, and you let him guide you into his arms, one hand in his and the other resting on his shoulder. 

It should be awkward, you think, remembering back on all the times you’ve tried this before. School dances and proms, clumsily shuffling and trying to avoid being stomped on by your partner’s feet - but the two of you move with ease, and you’d like to think it’s because his body knows yours by now.

“This is so weird,” you mutter, eyes cast down to watch his feet move in his fancy Oxford shoes, a soft flush to your cheeks.

“What do you mean?” He asks, nerves heightening as he stiffens like he’s waiting for you to let him go - to step away and cut this short like it doesn’t make you feel the same way. 

“Slow dancing is for old folk like war veterans and millennials.” Your lips twist as your eyes meet his, and his lips turn up into a slow smile, a deep, melodic chuckle following closely behind.

“If you’d rather bump’n'grind on me, I get it,” he smirks.

“You’re such an idiot,” you scoff back, twitching to shake the hair from your shoulder, assuming that’s what is causing the shivers currently shooting down your spine, and not the large, possessive hand resting in the dip of your waist. 

“Y’know, I’ve realised something about you lately,” he starts, voice low as he leans in, angling into your exposed neck and stopping his lips within mere inches of your ear, “You have a tell.”

“A tell?” You turn, brow raised as your gaze meets his, faces close enough that you can feel the soft pants of his breath on your skin.

“For when you’re enjoying yourself more than you think you should be,” he hums, his eyes fluttering a little as they drop to watch your mouth, the swipe of your tongue wetting your lower lip. “You call me an idiot,” his hand on your waist squeezes ever so slightly, your back arching a little into his touch, “Or stupid,” he uses his other hand, the one clutching at yours, to pull you closer, “Or dumb, or a dork.”

You can feel your heart thudding at the call-out, beating in time to the music, in time to the way your bodies sway together, creating it’s own rhythm for the two of you to dance to. 

“Maybe you’re just a stupid, dumb, dorky idiot.” You squeak out, immediately hating the way the words taste in your mouth, your face souring and eyes narrowing in deliberation. There’s no way that was at all convincing, and the smirk that tugs up his lips is all you need to know he sees right through you.

“Maybe,” he humours you, anyway. “And yet, you can’t get enough of me.”

“A smug dorky idiot.” You correct yourself, cutting out stupid and dumb, the sharpness of those words cutting at your tongue like a knife. 

The pointlessness of such discussion almost waters down the exhilaration you feel at being this close to him, in public, nonetheless, where literally anyone else could call you out on your growing tolerance of Luke, could connect the dots regarding all the time the two of you have been spending together and wave the evidence of your growing affection like a chequered flag for all to see.

This definitely feels like you’re crossing the finish line.

And, of course, it’s Jack who does the honours, primed all night to find some way to get between you and Luke upon your arrival, stumbling up to the two of you at the end of the song you’re swaying to and laying a heavy palm on your shoulder.

“Isn’t this cosy?” 

“Fuck off, Jack,” Luke scowls before you get the chance, a pointed glare directed towards his brother, the palming grip at your waist growing faint as you try to wedge a little distance between the two of you, fighting a losing battle with your instinct to run and hide. 

“I need to talk to your girlfriend.”

“I’m not his-,”

“She’s not my-,”

The two of you speak simultaneously, and despite the fact that you were saying the exact same thing, him saying it kind of dampens your mood, putting a good couple of steps between you and Luke with your arms crossing over your chest as you look toward his brother. 

“Whatever. Can I borrow her for a couple minutes?”

“I’m not property, Jack, you can ask me directly.”

“Please can we talk? Alone?”

“Let’s go outside,” you huff, storming off before he has the chance to say anything else and making it all the way outside before he speaks again. 

“Sorry for interrupting, you and Luke looked kind of cute-,”

“What do you want?”

“I’m sorry I said you were messing him around, and that you were toxic.” 

You frown at him, watching as he diverts his gaze to the ground, nervously shuffling on his feet and fingers fidgeting with the cuffs on his shirt. 

“I’m sorry for all the things I said and did at that party, I didn’t mean them, I was just drunk and upset. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

You chew nervously on the inside of your cheeks as he talks, arms wrapped around yourself to shield from the brisk night air, and you watch as Jack starts to unravel before your very eyes.

For as long as you’ve known Ellie, for as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him as anything less than cool, calm and collected - it’s kind of the main thing that grinds your gears about him if your honest, the fact that he never seems real. Like he’s putting on some sort of persona to seem like he has all his shit together, when you know he doesn’t.

“I really like Ellie, you know,” he sighs, and you scoff, because of course you know that. “And I was blaming you for putting this wedge between us when it’s really me that’s been fucking up.” You know that, too. “I’ve been thinking about her this past week, and I really wanna pull myself together and finally do something about it. Stop being such an idiot.”

You bite your tongue from questioning the reality of that. He’ll always be an idiot, you think, but that’s best left unspoken. It’s not even personal to him, that’s just part of being a man.

“She likes you too,” You tell him instead, despite the fact that it goes against all sorts of girl code to do so. You’re doing them both a favour, and the universe should really just let you off, you feel. “I don’t know why either of you have wasted so much time when you’ve both felt the same way all along.”

“You really think she’d say yes if I asked her out?”

“I do,” you shrug, “And it doesn’t need to be done on some romantic boat trip or some crazy elaborate scheme, you should just ask her when she gets back next week. Like as soon as she comes through the door, it will save us all a headache.”

“You sound like Luke.”

“Yeah, well, he’s rubbing off on me, I guess.”

“I don’t need to hear what the two of you get up to when you’re alone, that’s my little brother.”

You reach over and shove at his arm, and for the first time ever, when your eyes meet his, neither of them are narrowed. He’s smiling, and you’re smiling too, and it feels a little like a weight has been lifted from your chest, fresh air filling your lungs.

“Let’s go back inside, Luke’s probably thinking we’ve killed each other.”

“I’m just gonna take a second, it’s kinda stuffy in there.”

Jack nods, before making his way back to the reception, and you make your way over to the fountain, heels working through the gravel until you take a seat on the side. 

It’s a couple of minutes before you hear footsteps, and before you see the fancy oxfords come into your view, eyes roaming up the long, lean body of the boy who has your brain running marathons.   

When your eyes meet, his gaze is warm, and it feels like he can see right through you. Like he’s looking into the depths of your mind, holding a big cheesy sign as he waits at the finish line for your thoughts to come to an end.

He sits wordlessly beside you, his knees knocking against yours, and waits for you to speak - although the silence doesn’t feel awkward, or forced. He waits, patiently and understandingly, and you feel like he’s giving you the time to figure out what you want to say. 

It feels monumental, this moment, like you’re teetering on the edge of something real and honest for the first time in a while.

“The other week, when we,” your voice feels heavy, thick at the back of your throat, “You know,”

“I was strictly advised to forget about it, so no, I don’t know,” he teases, and you’re kind of thankful that he’s trying to ease the tension you’re building for yourself. “But if you wanna jog my memory.” You shove lightly at his shoulder. “I’m kidding. What about it?”

“I’ve never really done that before?”

“What, snuck a guy up to his room in the middle of a house party and rocked his world?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You scoff, smiling to yourself, despite the weight of all that you’re about to admit to him. “I’ve only ever slept with one other guy, and he wasn’t very nice about it after, so I just,” you frown, “Don’t really do it.”

“You don’t-,” he frowns too, you can see it from your peripheral, eyes till on the hands fidgeting in your lap, “But I thought-,” You look over and meet his eyes, brows furrowed and lips parted in confusion. “What?”

“The first guy, Jamie,” you start, twisting to face him, knees knocking once more. “We started talking in the summer before my freshman year, got to know each other ‘cause he lived one town over from me and he’d come into work all the time, and then when I started college he was a sophomore, and he was the first guy to ever take, like, a serious interest in me. And we had a lot in common, he was on the soccer team, we grew up in the same area, we got on really well, it was the first time I ever really felt connected to anyone like that. But I’d never done anything before, so I wanted to take things slow,”

Jamie Reeves. Captain of the University of Michigan Soccer Team until he tore his ACL at the end of his last year, ruining all dreams of playing in the MLS, like it was entirely achievable for a player of his caliber anyway. You had been infatuated by him, though. The kind of infatuation that a younger you might have doodled little hearts around his name in all your notebooks.

And then he turned out to be a complete leech.

“Please don’t tell me he rushed you into it.” Luke straightens his posture, reaching to place his hand over yours in your lap, the touch immediately comforting, and his concern even more so.

“No. Not exactly.” You sigh, hating how dramatic you feel about the whole thing. “We went on dates, and things were going really well, so I figured I trusted him enough to be my first, then after we had sex he just went really off. He wouldn’t take me out anymore, wasn’t putting any effort in. And then people started asking me all these questions about him, and what we did, and I realised he was going around telling everyone all the details, like I was just some conquest he could tick off to the boys on the team.” You remember how ashamed you had felt, eyes on you in every corridor, whispers about you in every class. You couldn’t leave your dorm without someone muttering some obscene comment about you, and you just felt awful. “Every time one of them saw me they’d make all these dumb comments, and I just felt dirty all the time, like I’d done something wrong. Then I went to a party at Pike, the one at Halloween,” The party that Luke had approached you for the first time since you met, and you had stormed off in tears - not due to him at all, but due to the fact you had just seen Jamie sticking his tongue down someone else’s throat, mere days after you had seen him last. “And he was all over one of the girls on the field hockey team, didn’t even look my way again after that, not that I really wanted him to.”

“You haven’t been with anyone since?”

You shake your head. “Doesn’t stop people saying I have, though. I tried dating a couple times, but it always ended up the same way, rumours being spread about me sleeping around and being easy. And it’s so dumb, ‘cause it’s like I trusted one guy, and somehow it keeps backfiring on me.” You pay no mind, for the first time in a long time, to the crack in your voice as you say it, no longer afraid of showing any hint of vulnerability. Not to Luke. You need to get this out - get it out of the way, once and for all, so you can move past it. Move on, even, with someone you hope won’t treat you the same.

“Does that mean you trusted me?” 

You try not to think too hard about all the times the two of you have shared any level of intimacy - the physical touch mostly initiated by you, and it’s hardly ever on a whim. You think a lot about Luke, if you’re honest. About how he’s honest, and he sticks by his word when he promises not to tell anyone anything. How he always tries to make you laugh or smile, even if it’s something stupid. He isn’t afraid to embarrass himself with you, isn’t afraid to give you power, to let you take the lead. And even though sometimes he jokes otherwise, the times you hang out, he has no ulterior motives. He likes talking to you, likes watching movies with you, likes meeting your eye in a crowded room and giving you one of those smiles that have started to make your heart stutter with something unidentifiable.

“I guess so.” Your shoulder lifts in a nonchalant shrug, your words anything, but. “I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it since and I can’t explain why it happened but I feel like you and me are-,” 

Connected? Compatible?

You know what he would say you are. You don’t know if you’re there, yet.There are so many things the two of you have become over the past few weeks, so many things you’ve wanted to be for longer than you even realised, so many things you’re afraid to say.

“I feel like out of everyone, you’d have no reason to lie to me. Or about me.”

“I wouldn’t. I didn’t know all that stuff,” he frowns, and it seems like his mind only just makes sense of all the times you threatened him after the fact, making sure he wouldn’t tell anyone that the two of you kissed, or hung out alone in an intimate space and maybe potentially enjoyed yourselves. He had thought you were ashamed of it - but all this time, you’ve been protective. Of yourself, of the trust you were building in him. “Why don’t you tell people, that those guys are all lying?”

“No one would believe me,” you shrug, eyes cast down to where his hand still rests on yours, and his touch prevents you from picking nervously at the skin around your nails.

“I do,” He assures you, “And I promise the next time I hear anyone say any of that stuff about you, I’ll beat their face in.”

“Yeah, you’d drop gloves for me?”

“Look at you with your hockey talk.” He coos, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, where you had barely noticed a tear trailing down until he wipes it away with his thumb, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I would. We’re partners, remember? I’ve got your back.” He extends his pinkie out to you, and you curl yours around it until he’s tugging it toward him, leaning down to press his lips to your knuckle, his kiss like a promise as his green eyes meet yours. 

It doesn’t gross you out, this time. If you’re honest with yourself, it hadn’t the first time he did it, either. It was cute, in an entirely dorky and childish and almost nostalgic way.

And you’re compelled to do the same, leaning and touching your pouted lips to his pinky, eyes fluttering closed as you kiss his skin, the rush of blood to your head somehow louder than the steady stream of the fountain beside you. 

“Listen,” he starts, lowering his hand but keeping your pinkies interlocked, resting them between you both on the stone. “If whatever this is that we’re doing makes you uncomfortable, or brings all that stuff back, I can back off a little.”

Something akin to disappointment floods through your system, your heart rate picking up in a panicked staccato, but you try to stay cool - still, for whatever reason, holding your cards close to your chest. 

“I can make sure my brothers don’t make any more stupid comments about us, they’re doing it to annoy me, not you. And I can,” he takes a deep breath, eyes flickering between yours as if to gauge your desires before he has to reluctantly pander to them. “I can stop, too.”

You nod, because it’s all you can do to shake away the tears threatening to flood your lash line at just the thought of him giving up on you. 

It’s the lump in your throat that blocks the words coming out to tell him as much, and your lips twist in discomfort as you take in the way he’s looking at you - gaze filled with dwindling patience and waining resilience. There’s only so far you can continue to push him, you can see that now, and if you’d have told the version of yourself that first sat down with him all those weeks ago - the version of yourself that refuted any chance of ever warming up to him, that saw him as nothing more than an annoyance, a disturbance to your tips for the day - that the thought of him stopping whatever you have would make you feel like this?

That cold-hearted bitch would have laughed in your face. 

“Hey, lovebirds!” There’s a shout from across the courtyard, and Quinn  appears in the distance with hands cupped around his mouth. The intrusion has you retracting your hand, and you can see the way Luke reacts in your peripheral, a resigned nod given instinctually before he looks over to his brother. “I’m driving home if you two want a ride!”

Luke doesn’t look back at you before pushing himself up, but he offers a hand to help you stand, and the two of you walk in silence to meet Quinn by the exit.

The car ride back to the house is silent, too, save for the soft hum of the radio that filters through the car. Josh sits up front with Quinn, head lulling against the window as he falls asleep worryingly quick, and you’re squished in the middle between Luke and Alex, Jack having stayed back with their parents. It’s hard not to press your legs against Luke’s - his are so gangly and long that they take up more than their fair share of room, and it’s much less awkward despite the circumstances to be touching him than touching Turcs. You feel a lot less tense when you’re touching, anyway. 

And when Quinn pulls up, Luke still helps you out of the car - ever the gentleman, even in the face of apparent rejection.

Quinn and Alex work at lugging an overly inebriated Josh up to his room, leaving Luke to guide you through the house, and the silence starts to become unbearable as he whispers a quick and quiet goodnight, leaving you at the door to yours and Ellie’s room as he makes his way down the hall.

“Hey, Luke,” you call out in a whisper toward him as he retreats, his tall frame turning, a gleam of what you interpret as hope flashing across his green eyes.

“Yeah?” He hums back, voice low as not to disturb anyone else, gaze meeting yours, locking in place with an almost audible click.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

You’re worried for a second you’ll have to expand, that maybe his slightly intoxicated memory doesn’t stretch as far back as to remember the conversation the two of you had had out by the fountain. 

Elaborating on it would be embarrassing to say the least - because what, exactly, are you supposed to say?

I don’t want you to stop flirting with me.

I don’t want you to stop kissing me when no one else is around.

I don’t want you to stop being the only person I can talk to.

I don’t want you to stop bulldozing into my very secure and sturdy walls, thank you very much. They’re starting to tumble down in what could be a very calamitous fashion.

Worried you might have to expose a little more of yourself than you had originally anticipated, you chew at the corner of your lip, waiting.

But then he smiles - in that easy way that makes your bones feel like jelly, your knees weakening to the point that you lean against the still-closed door of your room. In the way that has that loudmouth voice you’re trying too often to suppress within you screaming, God, he’s so cute!

“I know,” he smirks, the bastard, liquid courage running deep through his veins, “Inevitable, remember?”

You scoff, almost instinctively rolling your eyes despite the endeared warmth that floods your belly. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” he says again, “You coming?”

And all you can do is nod, biting back a fully-fledged smile before you’re rushing over and slotting yourself under his outstretched arm.

You definitely enjoy him more than you should.

Living with boys for the first time in your life has taught you a lot over the weeks you’ve been staying at the lake house.

The first is that they’re weirdly messy - in ways that shouldn’t bother you, but they do. It isn’t clothes left around, or dirty plates - but it’s hand soap crusted around the spout by the faucet, shoes kicked off and discarded at random points throughout the house, and they, for some bizarre reason, never put the lid back right on anything.

The second is that they’re loud - and that should have been anticipated. Guys are notoriously obnoxious. But it isn’t just their voices that carry. It’s footsteps up the stairs, stomping in the dead of the night when one of them needs a drink. It’s chewing their food, or slurping their coffee, or scraping the feet of their chairs against the floor when they’re sat at the dining table. It’s tapping their hands on their knees in haphazard rhythm whenever there might be an ounce of peace that they, without a doubt, misunderstand for awkward silence. 

And the third is that they probably couldn’t organise a fire in a match factory. And that goes for a lot of things - the kitchen cupboards, their laundry loads, and, most importantly, one of the many parties they love to throw.

It wouldn’t bother you so much - they usually work out in the end - but this time, it’s Ellie’s birthday, and the way they leave everything until the last minute is about to give you an aneurysm or something. 

There’s no food, no drinks, no cake, no decorations, and the party is tonight.

And Jack, who’s grand idea it had been to throw her a party in the first place, seems to have kidnapped her - disappearing and leaving you to try and figure out what’s going on.

Cole is the one who finds you in the kitchen, spiralling out, frantically trying to put together some kind of list so that one of the guys can go to the store and pick up the bare minimum to throw a party together - and he manages to calm you down - gathers the rest of the guys and helps come up with a plan, sharing out different categories. Quinn and Josh are down to get drinks, Cole and Alex are down to get food, and you and Luke are down for decorations. 

And then within the next five minutes, you’re back up in your room, transferring things from one of your bags into a tote, so you can carry more stuff back to the car without having to bring back a load of plastic, and Luke is sat on your bed, leaning back onto his hands as he watches you, green eyes still tickling your skin with their tangible watch. 

“I know we’re on a time crunch, but could we make another pit-stop at the mall? I still need to find a present for this baby shower.”

“Oh, actually, I made you something.”

“You made me something?” You can feel him watching you as you dig through the bag you’d brought back with you from being home.

“Yeah, I was bored, when you guys were gone, I forgot to give it to you when you got back, got kinda distracted by the whole wedding thing,” you tell him, reaching blindly to try and find the little figure. “I went by that art supply store and picked up one of those kits,” You finally find it, pulling out the little crotchet animal that may or may not have been your fourth attempt. The first had a stubby neck, the second had uneven legs, and you don’t think the third one’s face was anywhere near appropriate to be gifting to a child. This one isn’t perfect, but you��d honestly reached your limit with it. “Don’t make it a thing, it was like therapy while I was back home to be honest.”

“Oh that’s adorable.” He pouts, accepting it from you and immediately turning it back, bobbing it’s head as if to greet you. “Why a giraffe?”

“Long neck,” you smile, reaching out to pat it. “Reminded me of you.”

“Ha ha,” he rolls his eyes, but the laughter feels real enough. “She’ll love it.”

“She?” It slips out by instinct before you can check yourself, eyes widening as his meet yours again, his lips twitching in the corners. “Thought you said it was for your captain,”

“It is.” He smirks, “Men can’t carry babies last time I checked.” 

You nod, because of course men can’t carry babies. Of course the shower is for the mother of the baby - who you vaguely remember Jack and Luke talking about - someone who works with them back in Jersey. Someone they’re both close to, clearly, if Luke’s stressing this much about a gift.

“Wait, are you jealous?”

“No.” You scoff, frowning purposefully, lips turning down in forced denial.

“You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

“You want to take this back now, huh?” He holds the giraffe in a way that it bends, adorably, like he’s trying to taunt you with it, and it’s wonky eyes do little to distract from the charm he gives it.

“Nope.” You shrug, “You can give it to whatever girl you want, doesn’t bother me at all.”

“Of course not,” he stands, stepping toward you slowly, “You couldn’t care less what I do away from this house, right?”

“Right.” You gulp, looking into soft green eyes, your legs starting to wobble at the knees, strength and integrity waining as the seconds pass. You really don’t know why you’re still keeping this game up. Ever since that night of the wedding, you’ve been sneaking off into Luke’s room as soon as Ellie falls asleep. You fall asleep by his side, and he wakes you when he gets up early, so you can sneak back without Ellie realising you’ve even gone.

You’ve kissed him every day, sometimes tender, sometimes torrid - over the centre console of his car when he drops you off at work, in his bed before you drift off to sleep, in the kitchen when you sneak off under the ruse of refilling your drink. He can tell the difference between the flavours of lip balms you wear, comments on it like he has a little ranking system filed away somewhere in the back of his mind. You both whisper your secrets in the dark of the night, and you had promised him that you would try to open yourself up more to him.

“I thought we were past this,” he hums, stepping closer, voice low in a way that buzzes through your bones. “Thought we were being honest with each other, now.”

“Honest?” You ask, voice weak, neck craning now to look up at him, eyes boring into your own as he advances on you. 

His hand reaches to cup your jaw, to tilt your head just that bit further, and presses his lips straight to yours instead of elaborating any further.  

He’s tentative, at first. Gentle, even. Fingertips ghosting along the side of your neck, pulling you closer, less with any physical force and more so with pure magnetic attraction, your skin humming - buzzing, even, to be touched by him in any which way. 

Your chin tilts as your mouths slot together in a soft, slow kiss, and when his lips touch yours, everything else fits perfectly into place. The fingers of his left hand press firmly into the flesh of your hip, now, using a slight force to manoeuvre you how it suits him - as close as he can physically get you - and those on his right reach around enough to slightly curve towards the back of your neck, applying just enough pressure so that your chin angles upward to deepen the kiss, his tongue pressing a pleading invitation into your bottom lip.

An invitation you immediately grant him, your hands finding their place on his body with ease, one flat against the warm expanse of his chest and the other matching his, soft fingertips grazing the skin of his neck until they tangle in the slight overgrowth of curls at the nape.

Everything feels so fluid, so effortless, and yet, so new - like this is the first time you have kissed, an eruption of fresh feelings bursting through you. There’s still a familiarity that lingers - one of ease, where it’s like your bodies have each other mapped out, already. You know every cell of him and he of you, and it’s evident in the way the moment escalates.

Your bodies naturally gravitate towards the nearest surface, his fingers reaching out behind your hip to soften the blow of him pushing you into the dresser, your back arching, feet moving in sync as not to tangle and trip, or stumble and break the kiss.

But there’s nothing else clumsy about it.

He lifts you with ease, the cold surface only a slight shock to the system, and it brings you to the perfect height where he can seamlessly move his kisses from your lips, past your jaw, down your neck and into the crevice of your collarbones, leaving a trail of the sticky residue of your lip balm. 

Strong hands cup your thighs, parting your legs until he can stand between them, and your fingers bury themselves into his curls, pushing into him however you can. 

When his fingers graze the inside of your thigh, his lips part from the hot skin of your clavicle, and his head tilts slightly until his darkened green eyes meet yours.

“Please,” you breathe out before he can even ask, beyond caring for whatever particles of pride you’ve been desperately trying to cling to when you watch his lips curve slowly into the most panty-dropping smirk you think you’ve ever seen.

“Please what?”

Your lips part as if by instinct, a biting remark fizzling out on the tip of your tongue as your mind works for some kind of comeback, for some semblance of resistance to whatever this version of him is, but there’s nothing. Just a frantic plea for him to do anything to you. Whatever he wants.

Your hips shuffle forward as if led by a mind of their own, trying to force his hand up, only for him to follow the movement of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you find yourself pouting, spikes of heat flashing through you at the way you can see the thoughts crossing his mind, of all the ways in which he can torture you - putty in the palm of what you thought were safe hands.

“Tell me you were jealous,” he prompts, leaning forward to press a teasing kiss to your lips, “Tell me that the thought of me even talking to another girl makes your skin crawl.”

Don’t let him get cocky, a voice prevails in the back of your mind, despite the accuracy of his words. Tell him he’d have to have an ounce of game for you to be remotely worried, tell him the only thing that makes your skin crawl is his incessant need to mouth off all the time. Tell him, tell him, tell him!

“I was jealous,” you breathe out instead, chasing the victorious smirk that stretches across his lips in the hopes you can kiss it away.

Jealous of a girl you’ve never met, in a relationship with another man, pregnant with his child, not remotely interested in Luke.

A girl who gets to see him all the time, who knows him probably in ways you might never, who he cares enough about to want to gift her something meaningful. Who he casually texts and smiles at his phone as he’s doing so, who he and Jack talk affectionately about in ways they’ll never talk about you.

You’ve officially lost it. 

“And if you don’t touch me in the next 3 seconds,” you carry on, scrambling to claw back one single iota of your dignity, your hands gripping at his broad shoulders, “I won’t let you touch me again.”

Luke laughs. Practically snorts at you, eyes crinkling in the corners in pure amusement. Your dignity is long gone.

“1,” you start, your voice shakier than you’d ever like it to be, and his hands move to either side of your hips, clutching at the edge of the dresser.

“2,” you didn’t think you could sound worse than before, definitely longer than a second ago, but you’re quickly proven wrong as you watch him leverage that grip to push himself upright, creating a distance between the two of you that drains all the heat from your body.

“3.” he finishes, taking a step back and watching you with unadulterated hunger in his eyes, daring you to follow through with your threat - and the smug idiot knows you won’t.

He knows it’s coming, even anticipates the way in which you pounce on him, arms ready to catch you when you throw yourself down onto the ground in front of him, landing with a quick thud that jolts you straight into him. Hands at either side of his face pull him down, and he does half of the work in bending his back so it isn’t as clumsy. 

You tangle yourself up in him, legs twisting between each other until you’re stumbling toward the bed, and it’s as soon as you get your fingers back into his hair, as soon as his hands are pushing your top up, grazing at the warm skin of your back, that you hear a call of your name.

You falter back from him just as the door swings open, managing to create a reasonable amount of distance as Ellie swaggers in, voice still raised as she asks, “Have you seen my-,” It’s Luke that she sees first, eyes zeroing in on his flushed face with pin-point accuracy, her brows furrowing as she takes him in, heaving chest and messy hair and all. “Lip gloss?”

Lip gloss? Is she joking? 

“You came all the way back up here for lip gloss?” You ask, still slightly breathless and brain fogged, and feeling very much like you’ve just put all your chips on the table and watched them get swept away in seconds. 

You watch as Ellie’s eyes dart to Luke’s mouth, watch him grow conscious of the balmy coating smeared across his lips, and you feel your heart stop in it’s place, your chest squeezing in anticipation of a thump thump thump that doesn’t come.

“No,” she mutters, diverting her attention back to you with a sobering shake of her head. “Balm,” she corrects, “The kind with SPF, I think I’m burning, I didn’t realise me and Jack were gonna be gone all morning.”

“Uhm, yeah,” you breathe, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ears in the hopes it helps cool your head down, some. “I have some in my bag.”

Your tote is on the dresser you had just been placed on yourself, and you use the opportunity to dig through it to will the burning sensation in your ears away, levelling out your breathing as you root around for a tube of lip balm you know is in there somewhere.

“Could you check for my car keys, too? I was thinking we could drop by the mall for lunch. Catch up” She adds, with a forced wiggle of her brows, clearly what she had actually come up here for, and you fish those out too, throwing them across to her. “Quinn’s looking for you before you go, Luke, something about a list.”

“I should go check what he wants,” Luke mumbles, putting another few steps of distance between you before he offers an awkward wave, and departs the room with heavy feet that you hear stomp all the way down the hall, the last thing you see of him being a skinny, lopsided crochet giraffe poking out of his back pocket.

Apparently Jack’s plans of keeping some element of surprise for the party had gone out of the window as soon as he had got her alone - and you’re kind of grateful for the fact.

Keeping secrets from Ellie is stressful - you of all people would know, you’ve somehow managed to keep a pretty big one from her all summer - and she usually has a way of figuring things out on her own.

You probably would have folded to her - just the two of you out together, sipping smoothies in the food court at the mall - if he hadn’t already filled her in one the plans for the night. 

It makes up a little for his lack of effort, earlier - especially now that your hands are clear of it. You don’t know how much you trust the guys to put something together while you and Ellie are looking for an outfit for her, but you have no choice but to leave them to it. Jack had reassured you he had everything under control, and despite the absurdity of that statement, it’s nice for that panic you had been feeling earlier to have been flushed away.

“I think tonight’s the night,” Ellie sighs dreamily, elbow resting on the table and her chin in the palm of her hand, “We had this really deep conversation while we were out walking, and he pretty much told me he has feelings for me, he was really nervous, it was kind of cute.”

“I’ll take your word for the cute thing,” you chuckle, sipping at your smoothie and smiling at how happy she looks. It’s nice to hear, her having hope about the situation for once, instead of dread or fear. 

“He said you two spoke at his cousin’s wedding,”

“It was nothing,” you shrug, “He didn’t need any interference from me to realise he likes you, El, he just needed a nudge.”

“I can hardly call you out on interfering,” her lips twist, nervously, “I’ve kind of been doing the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you think I’ve been hanging out with Cole so much all summer?”

“Cole?” You frown, leaning back into your chair, “You’ve lost me.”

When you’d last spoken to Ellie about Cole, she had told you they just got along, and there was nothing more to it - and you had no reason to believe otherwise. When you and Luke had been in the midst of your own interference, and you had been playing third wheel to their hangouts, they had been getting along. Almost like siblings. Cole never flashed her those flirty winks or toothy grins that he gave everyone else. 

“He’s into you.” She says, finger swiping in the ring left behind from her smoothie cup on the table, “And I was kind of giving him advice on how to approach you. I figured you wouldn’t mind, ‘cause he’s like your normal type, and you seemed like you liked him-,”

“I’m sorry, you think I like Cole?” 

You’re taken aback. You don’t remember giving any sort of indication you were ever into Cole Caufield.

Maybe you could have been, before this summer - would have probably fallen victim to his cheeky smiles or his teasing banter. He’s probably closer to your usual type, if you even have one. Confident, with a presence that sort of demands attention. But you realise, now, your attention should be earned - in more than just a flash of cute teeth and boyish features.

In dumb jokes told just to bring you out of a bad mood, and a car with the AC dialled up waiting for you after a shift on a hot day. In hands that offer you help before you ever have to ask, and eyes that see so far beyond what version of yourself you try to put out there.

You could have liked Cole, in another world, or another life, if another boy wasn’t around. 

“I did until I walked in on you kissing Luke, earlier.”

You blink slowly at her, mouth agape as she stares blankly back. 

What the fuck?

“I wasn’t kissing Luke,” you scoff, denial making your face twist in funny ways that you can even feel look deranged. “We were talking.”

“Into each other’s open mouths?” She snickers, “Unless he’s been digging around in our stuff when we’re not around, I can’t think of any other reason he’d have left the room with Summer Fridays Vanilla Beige smeared all over his lips.”

“It was Brown Sugar, actually.” You correct her, guiltily, hoping the words you mutter next through pouted lips don’t quite make it to her ears. “He says it’s sweeter.”

“Oh my God.” She guffaws, mouth agape and eyes wide in realisation. “How long has this been going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” you deny, although you can feel heat creeping up your neck, already. “We just get along-,”

“We get along, and you don’t welcome me home with an open mouth.”

“Ellie-,”

“Listen, he’s not just some guy that you can mess around with, he’s way deeper into you than you probably realise, and-,”

“I like him, okay?” you blurt out, voice just loud enough to be heard over her rambling but not enough to carry anywhere else, and the silence that follows is almost deafening - prolonged in a way that you can’t even remember if you said anything, or not.

But the way Ellie is looking at you tells you enough.

Why is everyone so caught up on you breaking his heart?

As if you aren’t putting the entirety of yours on the line.

“Luke?” She asks, like the two of you haven’t just been talking about him. “You like Luke Hughes?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, leaning onto your elbows and pressing the palms of your hands to your face, eyes scrunching tight to try clear up some mind space to make sense of what it is you’re admitting to.

It makes sense already, to you. Verbalising it is the problem.

He’s charming, he’s funny, he makes you laugh, most times unintentionally but that doesn’t make your feelings dwindle in the slightest. 

He’s weirdly passionate about that one horse movie and won’t shut up trying to get you to watch it with him, but it’s endearing in a way that you want to kiss him to shut him up. Or maybe even watch it, God forbid.

He literally never stops eating, but it’s like his body is in tune to yours now, and he always makes double if he feels like you might be hungry so you don’t ever have to ask, which is weirdly sweet.

When you lay beside him in the middle of the night, you don’t feel pressured to do anything other than talk.

And when you do, he listens to you - retains information and checks up in a way that makes you feel seen, makes you feel a way you haven’t in a really long time. He doesn’t talk over you, or dismiss your feelings, or try to change the topic when things go a little too deep or get a little heavy. He shares the load, asks questions that make you think and process things in a new way, and he isn’t patronising when he does so. He doesn’t say things that sound like they’re straight out of a Psych 101 textbook like your feelings are valid or what makes you think that?

And he compares your wildly different worlds in a way that doesn’t feel like a competition. His troubles aren’t worse than yours, his life isn’t harder.

You’re equals.

You’ve never felt like anyone’s equal, not even Ellie.

It’s like with all the other parts of your life that make you hurt, make you feel small and insignificant - they fade away when you’re with Luke.

His corner of your world is bright - despite the seemingly inexhaustible snark-meter constantly ticking between you two - it’s easy, doesn’t weigh down on you or make your chest feel tight, not in that way, at least.

You’ve been introduced to a whole new influx of feelings in your chest by Luke.

You can give in to the ugly side of yourself that wants to bite at him until there’s nothing left, to push whenever he gets a little too close, and you don’t have to worry that you’ll scare him off or push too far, ‘cause he’ll just pull you with him and bite back - only, it doesn’t hurt like when anyone else does it. Somehow, you think he savours the parts that other people might spit out - chews and swallows and rubs at his belly in satisfaction like you’re the best meal he’s ever had. 

Despite all the other things that have shattered your heart, Luke Hughes makes it feel whole, again.

And it should make you feel sick - lovey-dovey stuff like that usually does, your walls shooting straight up at the first sign of affection from anybody, metaphorical sneakers on and carrying your legs as far and as fast as they can run - but this doesn’t.

You don’t want to run from Luke, not really.

“I thought you said he was dorky and annoying.”

You’re pretty sure she had been the one to say that, at some point, but you don’t remember arguing the fact, so you don’t bring it up.

“He is.” You pout. He’s also apparently inevitable. “He kinda crept up on me, I guess.”

Ellie is quiet for a minute as she watches you, eyes narrowing as she takes you in - shoulders slumped, lips pouted, defeated.

“Why not just tell him, then? Why hide it?” She asks, leaning onto the table too until your faces are level when you peak up at her, “You know he likes you back, right? He’s got the biggest crush on you, it’s borderline problematic.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really understand why he likes me.”

“Does it matter?”

It does. You don’t want to keep running, but you can’t really help it. There’s something ingrained deep within you that is trying to shelter yourself from all the ways in which succumbing to these feelings will inevitably hurt you.

“Luke’s way smarter than me, and he’s way more successful, he’s kind and he’s generous, he comes from a great family, has this great house, we have literally nothing in common, and he doesn’t see that now because he just thinks he’s attracted to me, and he likes that I don’t just fold to him because he’s some superstar, but the second that’s gone,” you sigh, trying to swallow down the hurt in your voice, blink away the onslaught of tears, “He’ll just get bored of me like everybody else does, and then he’ll be gone. And I’ll just be some girl he broke up with and left behind, and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

Ellie frowns, a strained mutter of your name called as her hand falls to yours in an attempt to comfort you. “You’ll never know if you don’t try, babe.”

“No, I know.”

It’s all you’ve ever known.

Men who start off treating you like some prized possession - cherishing you, making you feel valued and loved - and the second the shine wears off, the second something even newer, even brighter, even sparklier, crosses their path, they’re gone.

And you’re left behind wondering what it is about you that keeps driving them to leave.

It happened with your dad, with his new wife and their perfect kids - the boys he always wanted, who he never had to force himself to like. The dream family he abandoned you to pursue. It happened with Jamie, with all the girls he saw after you, with the way he never even looked your way again, even after all the secrets you shared, and the promises he made. With all those other boys who never saw you as anything more than a fabricated story to spread for a few brownie points with their buddies in the locker room.

It will happen again.

These feelings you have for Luke - the comfort he gives, the contentment, the ease in conversation, the warmth he bathes you in until your skin prunes and he seeps in through the cracks - they’re better kept to yourself. It’s easier that way, to keep this whole heart under lock and key, not giving anyone a chance to break parts off and keep it for themselves.

It’s almost perfect the way it is.

Safe, even from the clutches of the boy who pieced it back together, brick by laborious brick.

“There isn’t long left of the summer, anyway,” you go for a nonchalant shrug, but your shoulders feel heavy, and it turns out more like an arduous huff. “I doubt he’s shy of female attention back in Jersey, he’ll forget I ever existed before he even knows it.”

“You should talk to him,” Ellie suggests, “At least let him know where you stand, even if it’s to tell him things can’t go further.” 

The thought of it is too daunting. Looking into those gleaming green eyes and laying your heart on the line.

You can pretend all you want to Ellie, to yourself, even, that you wouldn’t want more, but you don’t think you could keep up the show with him.

“He deserves at least that.”

And damn it, she’s right.

Maybe he even deserves a proper chance.

Luke never thought he’d regret kissing you for any reason, but he’s wishing he had practiced some restraint up in your room, earlier.

If he hadn’t advanced on you, had let you pack your bag and got you out of the house before Ellie and Jack got back, he could have followed through on his plan of action for the day.

A plan he’d been hyping himself up for, all week - getting you on your own, talking things out, maybe even asking you out. Properly. Not just dinner at the mall, but a real date. Planned, perfected. A fancy dinner, or a trip to the movies. A picnic blanket laid out somewhere with a nice view, and an abundance of your favourite snacks. 

He wants to kiss you without having to hide it, anymore.

He wants to walk with you tucked under his arm. Wants to have you in his lap when there’s too many people over at the house, and the group are struggling for space on the couches in the den. 

He also sort of wants peace of mind, but what’s that compared to not having to sneak around, anymore. 

He’d made his mind up in the morning, waking up beside you at 5am, rousing you from your sleep with soft mutterings of your name, and lips pressed to your cheek until he could feel you smile. 

“Hi,” your voice had been croaky, and your movements slow, shuffling against him as your skin became illuminated by the soft glow of the rising sun slipping through the gap in the curtains. Your legs had been tangled with his under the sheets, and you did little to untangle them, and he was tempted to lock his so that you couldn’t. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, lips still moving against your skin, nipping at your cheek, your jaw, your throat, and your fingers rose until they clutched at the back of his hair, curls wrapping around them as you held him in place. 

“What time is it?”

“Around five,” his own hands landed on your waist, slipping under the hem of your tank, and trying to savour the warmth of your skin, your body hot from being against his all night. “Figured you’d need to be a little earlier today with it being Ellie’s birthday and all.”

“Thank you,” you used your soft grip on his curls to tug, until his face left the crook of your neck, and you blinked softly, smiled sweetly, and he felt his heart beat at twice the normal speed. You leant up and kiss him, straight on the lips, and he smiled against you just as you pulled away. 

He felt cold all over as soon as you detached yourself, and he rolled onto his side to watch as you stood, arms raised to stretch and lifting the bottom of your tank top to rise up your belly.

He felt robbed. Like he deserved longer with you, and it had been as you crawled back over your side of his bed, and had kissed him once more before leaving, that he had decided he needed to do something about it.

His original plan had been to steal you away at some point in the night, everyone else too distracted by the party to notice or care, but being teamed up with you to go get decorations seemed like it would work too.

Until Jack came back and fucked his plans up.

Jack said that he would go get the food with Turcs, that he had already paid for a cake, and he had to show his ID when he picked it up. He said Ellie shouldn’t have to do anything, and that you would be the best person for her to do nothing with, which left Luke picking up decorations with Cole.

It wasn’t that he minded Cole’s company, but Cole isn’t you.

He probably could have tucked Cole under his arm as they walked side by side through target and picked up a bunch of of banners and streamers, given the logistics of their height difference, but it wouldn’t have been as cute.

He has managed to get a lot of unexpected information though. And of course, his only thought is that he can’t wait to share it with you. 

Cole tells Luke how he and Ellie have only been hanging out all summer to make Jack jealous.

He bites his tongue to refrain from telling him that sort of trick doesn’t work on his brother, but Cole seems too pleased with himself for Luke to rain on his parade, and he finds it kind of funny that everyone’s been working to get the two of them to wake up to their feelings, not just you and him.

Cole might have even ended up putting more effort into it than you and Luke did, acting as a go-between for Jack and Ellie, and raising the stakes for both of them to make a move.

“And what do you get out of any of that?” Luke chuckles as he works at taking the banners out of their plastic wrapping, Cole taking the plastic and putting it straight into the trash.

The smile drops as soon as Cole says your name, though, and Luke’s hands stop in place. “Ellie’s been giving me insider info. I’m primed and ready to make a move.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Luke frowns, “You like her? Since when?”

He tries not to let the panic stirring in his chest reflect on his features, but it’s hard. 

Cole and Ellie had been hanging out for a long time, now. He can’t have been into you that whole time, right? Not without saying anything to anyone else - Cole is kind of mouthy, like that. Word would have got back around to Luke if Cole’s liked you for months. 

“Since I met her. She’s a really cool girl, really funny.” Cole scoffs, hand reaching out for more trash. “And she’s, like, one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen, you know?”

Of course Luke knows. He’s seen the most beautiful sides to you - soaked head to toe from a garden hose, eyes crinkled from laughter, or the aftermath, curled up on a couch with just-dry hair and heart opening up to him for the very first time. In an orange baseball cap and a Mets jersey, twirling as you exit one of the fitting rooms you had found in the mall, a big cute grin on your face as you allow yourself to dorky with Luke, and only with Luke. Sat out on the fountain at the club, skin bathed in the glistening moonlight and your heart thumping in the palm of his tender hands. Laid beside him in the early hours of the morning, soft snores falling from between your lips and hair splayed out against his pillow.

But he can’t exactly say that to Cole - who has apparently been working to pursue you this entire time without Luke ever catching on.

“Ellie says I’m her type, so I don’t know why I’m stressing about asking her out-,”

“Out like on a date? Like you want to date her?”

Luke knows he sounds like an idiot without Cole giving him the weirded-out look he gives, but he’s starting to lose out to the dread that is flooding the pit of his stomach. He stumbles to follow Cole out of the kitchen and into the living room, where they had set up a step ladder before to hang the decorations.

“You really think I’d be trying so hard if I didn’t?” Cole scoffs, “Catch up, Luke, I’m trying to end my summer with a girlfriend-,”

“She’s hardly girlfriend material.”

The words taste sour in the mouth that moves before his brain has time to think - sour enough that he has to try not to grimace, wishing he could suck them back in and swallow them back down like they never came out. 

“What do you mean?” Cole asks, his features dropping into a frown. “I thought you two were getting along.”

“We are,” he agrees, despite it seeming like an understatement, but words are starting to pour out before he can filter them, and he can already feel himself getting carried away. “And she’s a nice enough person, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t think it would work out with her like that.”

“You think she’d be hard work?”

He knows you are. But he likes you that way. He doesn’t want anyone else to worm their way into your good graces like he has. 

“Yeah,” he huffs, “She’s always out, and always flirting with guys at the club, you’ve seen it.” He knows he’s pulled that out of his ass, but what else is he supposed to say?

“I think she’s just fishing for tips, Lukey,” Cole chuckles, and Luke’s cheeks flush with humiliation at the pet name. He feels small, like he’s just something that Caufield can steam roll straight over without much protest. “Can’t blame her, some of those guys have deep pockets.”

“I’ve just heard stuff, you know.”

“Like what?”

Jesus Christ, Cole, he thinks, wishing he’d just take his word for it and get over you, already. As if it would ever be that easy. He doesn’t particularly enjoy saying these things out loud - using the words you had so carefully confided in him against you - but there’s a panicked desperation creeping up within him, becoming possible to ignore, and it’s cancelling out all other rational thoughts in his brain. 

The second you find out Cole Caufield is interested, you’ll no longer have any need for Luke.

Luke, who your every conversation with starts or ends with some sort of bickering argument, who annoys you to no end, who riles you up like it’s what he was put on this very Earth to do.

Cole is charming, he’s always had an ease when it comes to talking to girls that Luke never quite found in himself, and he’ll win you over in no time - and that’s if you aren’t interested, already.

But Luke is building up to that.

He’s been building up to it all summer.

Even before then, without entirely knowing it. 

The two of you have something, even if you refuse to admit it. You wouldn’t have kissed him all those times, otherwise, wouldn’t have come to his bed in the middle of the storm those weeks ago, and almost every night since he came back from Vegas, wouldn’t have slept with him before he left, wouldn’t have begged him to give in to you - not if you weren’t interested in him.

You’ve shared parts of yourself he knows no one’s ever seen, and he can’t let that be for nothing. 

But now the rug is being pulled out from under him, and all he can do to cling on to the edges with an idiotic possessiveness that curls his upper lip and brings his heart to a screeching stop. 

“Like how she’s with a different guy every week at Michigan. Apparently she gets around.”

“Oh,” Cole frowns, and Luke watches as his face turns, his own fists clenching at the urge to take it all back, to defend her and call Cole out on his immediate shift despite it being his own fault. 

He’s made his bed, now. He has to lie in it.

“Ellie didn’t mention all that stuff.”

“She’s hardly gonna call her friend easy.” Luke scoffs, and he thinks the way the words are spat out of his mouth is some sort of reflection of the way his lips don’t want to say them. Like they’re disgusted that his brain would even conceptualise them enough to be spoken. “Especially when you were doing her a favour with the whole Jack thing.”

“I don’t know man, I think you’ve got the wrong idea of her.”

Luke rolls his eyes as Cole makes his way back toward the step ladder, banner in hand, jaw tensing as he scrambles to think of something to stop this.

“She’s not the kind of girl you date,” he manages to call out, despite the tremor in his voice, every fibre of his being fighting the words from being spoken. “And there’s like a month left before we all leave for camp, so if you were to start anything, it would just be for the summer, anyway.”

“Jack and Ellie have started something with just a month left.”

“That’s not the same thing, they’ve been into each other for years, they text and call all the time, nothing’s really changing for them except for a label, you really think you’re gonna keep that up after just a couple months of knowing her?”

He reaches out for the other end of the banner and holds it as Cole positions his side, lip tugged between his teeth and a frown on his face as he mulls Luke’s words over. 

“You’ll be in Montreal, and she’ll be here, and you’ll be focusing on hockey, and training, and you won’t have time to keep up something serious with a girl you barely know.”

He tries not to think about how it’s the same distance to Jersey - an almost 2 hour flight - and how he’d be doing the exact same thing, swept up into the season before he knows it and potentially doing nothing but letting you down. 

“And you know what she’s like, she’d find something to argue about with a monk, for God’s sake,” he scoffs, brows furrowed so hard he can feel the tension in his forehead, “All you’d get from her is an earache. She’s not worth it.”

Cole turns to narrow his eyes at Luke, but something else over the top of his head catches his attention, instead, and the surprised muttering of your name turns Luke’s blood to ice.

Frozen in place, eyes wide, heart thudding in his ears, he waits with bated breath for something to happen - for Cole to break into a shit-eating grin, and tell him he’s just fucking around. For the ground to swallow him up. For anyone - literally anybody else - to respond.

But your voice carries straight over to him. Travels through his ears, ricochets around the cavern of his skull, shoots down his spine and makes his legs go numb.

“We uhm,” your tone is shaky, and Luke, for the first time, maybe, ever, hates the way you sound. “We were just checking if you needed a hand with the decorations.”

He turns slowly, and it’s Ellie’s eyes he meets first. Pointed, narrowed, betrayed, even, she glares at him like he’s just kicked a wounded animal right in front of her. 

“You can’t decorate your own party,” Cole laughs from behind Luke, as Luke’s attention drifts slowly your way. 

His eyes meet yours, and he can see the watery glaze over them from across the room. Can see your throat working to gulp down your hurt as your lips twist.

Ellie says something in response, and he vaguely hears Cole speak too, but all that he can focus on is the blood rushing around his head, a whooshing and whirring that makes him feel like his ears are about to pop, or his brain is about to explode. His lips part to speak, to say something, anything, to explain what you had clearly overheard, but your gaze drops to the floor, and he sees your walls build back up right before his eyes, brick by brick, cementing themselves back in place.

He’s such an idiot.

He’s such a monumental asshole.

The last time he had seen tears in your eyes had been sat by the fountain at the club - he had wiped them away, and had promised you he had your back, and you had just caught him having anything but with Cole. And all that after you had told him why you had ever been hesitant to let anyone in the first place.

He doesn’t think he’s ever messed up like this.

He steps forward, unsteady on his feet, and you step back, still not able to look him in the eye again, before turning on your heel and making your way upstairs.

Luke hears the stomp of your feet as you go, watches Ellie go after you, wishing it could be him, and stands, motionless, until he feels a firm pat on his back.

“Don’t worry, man,” Cole says, “She’s cool, she’ll be over it after a couple of drinks.”

Luke doesn’t even think he says anything coherent when he responds, a grunt or a grumble - it can’t have been words, because he can’t even form them in his brain. 

“I’m gonna ask her out tonight, anyway,” Cole chuckles, “So what you said won’t even mean anything.”

Great.

He’s just fucked things up with one of the greatest people in his life, the girl of his dreams, and it doesn’t even mean anything.

Not the kind of girl you date. 

Not worth it.

All that from the boy who supposedly had your back not that long ago. The first guy in a long time, maybe even ever, to make you feel secure, and safe, and like you could trust someone again.

Luke thinks you’re an earache. 

He thinks you’re argumentative, and only worthy of a brief, summer fling - that keeping up anything with you when he goes home would be a waste of the time and energy he should be dedicating to hockey.

And he’s probably right, you think.

It’s only what you’ve been telling yourself in the back of your mind all summer. Self-deprecating thoughts about how he’s far too good for you, and you’re only interesting when he can’t have you, and he’ll get tired of you before you can even realise he’s already drifted off.

Ellie had told you all the way back in your freshman year that the two of you weren’t a good fit. Jack had been telling Luke the same all summer. And you had only just managed to convince yourself otherwise on the drive back to the lake house from the mall.

You can hardly blame him for being two steps ahead.

You think that’s why you can’t bring yourself to cry - the sting of tears prickling persistently but never pushing through, eyes watering so much you can’t even put on mascara without the fear of it trickling down your face and ruining the rest of your makeup.

You’d tried crying, before. Had ran up to your room and had sat on the other side of your bed, hidden from the door and knees pressed to your chest. Your breath had stuttered, and your lips had trembled, but the tears wouldn’t fall, try as you might to have made them.

And when Ellie had found you, had sat beside you with an arm stretched over your shoulders, you had tried, then, too.

And it would be your luck that as soon as you press the inky substance into your lashes that they would finally fall, so you’ve been sat trying to wish them away for the past ten minutes - the tube clutched in a death grip in your hands as you sit at the makeshift vanity you and Ellie had set up all those weeks ago when you had moved in, taking deep breaths and willing the hurt to go away.

It’s where Luke finds you after knocking with no response - you barely remember hearing it - shuffling wordlessly into the room and perching himself down behind you on the edge of the bed.

You see him in the mirror, your eyes darting away before his can meet them in the reflection, and you stiffen your shoulders, bracing yourself for the blow.

“I didn’t mean any of what you heard.”

You breathe out a humourless chuckle, bitterness settling into the pit of your stomach and your lips trembling with resistance. 

“I mean it, I don’t think those things about you, I promise, I-,”

“It doesn’t even matter,” you cut him off with a roll your eyes, pushing the mascara tube toward the mirror and figuring you’re just gonna go without. 

“I was panicking, and it just came out like word vomit, and I feel really sick about it, and really stupid, and I wish I could take it all back-,”

“I said it doesn’t matter.” You meet his eyes this time, trying not to fall for just how distraught he looks behind you in the mirror. 

“Of course it matters,” he frowns, and you look away as soon as he pushes himself up, knowing he’s coming for you. “I need you to know that I would never have said those things-,”

“You said them, Luke,” you scoff, “What do you mean you would never have said them, you literally did.”

“I know-,”

“It doesn’t matter-,”

“Can you stop saying that!” He frowns, appearing at the side of you, hands gripping your shoulders to get you to face him. “I’m trying to explain this to you, I’m trying to fix things, and you’re-,”

“What, giving you an earache?”

All those weeks ago, the backs of your legs sticking to the bench in the booth in the restaurant, leaning over the table and sparring back and forth with him, you had convinced yourself that he liked it.

That the glint in his eye was indication of as much, the twitch at the corner of his lips, the way he would bite back without a second to think about it, and had matched your every effort to get one over on him. 

You had thought the two of you had something real. Something you had never found with anyone else. Quick wit, and similar senses of humour, shared boundaries, a mutual level of respect. 

You had thought his persistence had been something that would stick.

And clearly, you thought wrong.

He whispers out an utterance of your name that hurts like fingers wrapped around your throat - clenching and squeezing until you go hot in the head.

“I keep saying it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t, Luke. You were right, we wouldn’t have been able to keep this up past the summer, anyway.”

Luke’s brows furrow your way, eyes darting between yours as his lips part to speak, but nothing comes out.

“You’re going back to Jersey soon, I’m going back to school, it was fun while it lasted but things have run their course.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“We both do.” You shrug, wearing your feigned indifference like armour, just like you know so well to do. “You don’t say the things you said on a whim, Luke, some part of you has to believe that they’re true.”

“I don’t-,”

“I’m giving you a chance to cut things off with no hard feelings-,”

“No hard feelings?” His disbelief cuts through you a little, the hurt in his eyes and the scrunch of his features, too, but if you give in, now, you’re setting yourself up for a world of hurt. 

You had barely just built up the courage to give your heart to him, in whatever shape he had scrunched and squeezed it into before, and he had already managed to bruise it. Giving in will only result in it breaking. 

“I have feelings. I have feelings for you. And I know you have feelings for me, too, you can’t pretend you don’t-,”

“It doesn’t-,”

“It matters.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like this - so sure, so serious, so raw - and when he takes a hold of your face, hands cupping your jaw, tender but firm, and forces you to look at him, you see the same in his features. “Cole is into you. And he said he was gonna ask you out, and I panicked trying to convince him not to. I should have had faith that you would have turned him down. And I should have been honest, and I should have told him that I’m into you. More than into you, I think I-,”

“I wouldn’t have turned him down.”

You lie with such ease that it makes your heart ache more than the truth, but it’s the only thing you can do to protect it.

If you let Luke carry on, you’ll let him back in.

You can’t let him back in.

Not with the tears that now well his eyes, or the way his face drops like you’ve just struck him in the gut - pained and powerless.

“What?”

Your hands shake in your lap so much you have to clench them shut, knuckles turning white as Luke’s touch slips from your skin. 

“If he asked me out, I would have said yes.”

Luke runs a hand through his hair, blinking repeatedly before he tears his gaze away from yours, and you feel like you can see his walls building - a sight that should flood you with relief, but doesn’t.

“So, what, everything we’ve been through together, all the things we’ve done, all the things we’ve said, you’re just gonna throw it all away like none of it matters?”

You can hear the hurt - can feel it even, clawing at your skin as if it’s trying to find a way to dig past the barriers you’ve put in place. 

But you have to do this.

“I guess not.”

Luke was always going to hurt you. Was going to burrow himself through whatever cracks you left bare to him, weasel his way into your heart and tear it from the inside out. And maybe you were always going to do the same to him.

“Alright then,” he mutters, robotic and distant, with his eyes stuck on the floor. 

He stands from where he had been crouched beside you, backing away before turning completely, and he walks away in long strides, the door to your bedroom closing with a soft click behind him. 

The tear that falls when he’s gone does so slowly. You feel it trail all the way down your cheek from the corner of your eye, until it drops, almost audibly, from your jaw and onto your lap. 

And then the rest follow, uncontrollable and unrelenting.

Inevitable, just like he had said.

A/N: so...... please don't hate me I wrote the ending first lmao!! I imagine this will cause riots in the streets tbh but please let me know what you think hahahah this whole story has become my baby!! she's problematic but she's mine!!!!

[creweemmaeec11]

Just a Sense

This is my secret santa snippet I wrote for @chaoticgoodthief. Their Prompt was:  "how about the joke villain going ballistic when someone hurts their designated hero?"

I really hope you like it!!!

"Alright, party's over," Hero's voice echoed through the empty halls of the museum.

Villain didn't bother turning around immediately, continuing to admire the painting they were looking at before casually turning to face their guest, "I'd have to disagree," They mused, hopping down from the ledge, "Now that you're here, the party can finally start,"

The Hero grinned, pulling their dagger out and twirling it between their fingers, "Alright, if you're looking for a dance partner-"

"Awe, come on!" The criminal interrupted, "We haven't even gotten to enjoy the museum yet!" they twirled with their arms out to gesture to everything around them, "We have the place to ourselves tonight! We can even go past the guard ropes, don't worry, I won't tell,"

The Hero raised an amused eyebrow, "You don't think I have better things to do?"

The Villain shot them a cheshire, all too knowing smile, "I think we both know you do, and we both know that's exactly why you're here in the first place,"

It was a distraction, for both of them. A game of cat and mouse that repeated like clockwork, comforting in its predictability. They were both safe here, in a weird way. They knew each other, knew the stakes, knew it wasn't actually a fight to the death, that no matter what, Villain would slip away at the end of the night, so they could do it all over again.

The Hero blushed, but rolled their eyes, failing to keep the slight smile off their face, "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,"

"Put that butter knife away; we both know you're not actually going to stab me with it,"

"Oh yeah? I do have an actual job to do here, you know?" The Hero countered, crossing their arms.

"Oh my god, are you two done flirting yet?" A new voice cut in mockingly,  as a figure came out from behind one of the museum's pillar supports.

"Supervillain?!" both parties cried in unison.

Hero instinctively reached for their communicator, but Supervillain flicked a hand. The device shot out of Hero's grasp, shattering against the far wall.

"Now, now," Supervillain drawled, their voice cool and condescending, almost like disciplining a misbehaving child, "Calling for backup would ruin the whole point of me going through the effort of getting you alone, wouldn't it?"

"Supervillain, what are you doing here?" Villain asked, a cautious edge creeping into their usually carefree tone.

Supervillain glanced over to them, surprise flashing in their eyes, like they were shocked the Villain had even dared to speak to them.

"Leave." They commanded, "This doesn't concern you anymore," turning back toward the Hero, who was slowly backing away.

Villain saw the Hero glance at them, the fear, the silent plea for help in their eyes. They clenched their fists at their sides.

"Back off, I was here first,"

The Supervillain spun around at that, eyebrows fully raised, shock morphing into an almost... impressed expression.

"Oh, you're cute," they replied, lips curling into a smirk. "I don't believe we've met face to face, have we? Small fries don't usually cause much of a blip on my radar I'm afraid. But don't worry, tonight I'm actually doing you a favour,"

"A favour?" The Villain replied skeptically, narrowing their eyes.

"Well, I'm about to take this little nuisance behind us out of the way for you-"

Suddenly, the Hero behind them made a dash for it, but it was no use, as they were immediately flung backwards, crashing through a wall and an expensive painting along with it.

"Seriously, Hero? Running? You should know better by now."

"Get away from them!" Villain shot back, running toward the Hero who was struggling in the rubble.

"All right, your entertainment value has expired. I needed them without their backup, which they never need with you. You've served your purpose, now get out of my way," the Supervillain gestured at the Villain, as if to send them flying, but to their surprise, nothing happened, "what-"

Suddenly the Supervillain's world seemed to be spinning, running laps around their skull as they could no longer tell up from down. It was like vertigo from all directions at once. It was only then the horrifying realization hit them that their vision was fading.

"What the hell are you-!"

"Sensory manipulation," Villain said calmly, striding toward them, watching as the Supervillain came crashing down to the floor. "A little something I haven't had to use in a long time."

"You insolent little-!"

"Sense of sight, balance, motion... kind of hard to function when they suddenly get thrown into a blender huh? Proprioception really is a wonderful thing."

Supervillain was very quickly beginning to feel sick.

"Certain senses are more fun than others..." the Villain mused, crouching down next to them, "Nociception... the sense of pain... for example"

A gut-wrenching, blood-curdling, animalistic scream suddenly erupted from the Supervillain on the floor.

The pain only lasted for a second, but that was one second too long.

They were flailing, trying desperately to get away, to get a sense of anything. They couldn't tell where they were. Were they on the ground? Were they stuck to the ceiling? Were they floating in water? Even worse, they felt like they were losing a sense of not only where they were, but what and even who they were.

Supervillain didn't even realize they were shaking. They could feel panic flooding their system.

"Interoception is probably my favourite, though," Villain mused, their voice almost playful. "The sense of internal body states. Hunger, thirst.... panic... fear...." The Villain mused, tilting their head in thought, "How high do you think your heart rate can get before it gives out? Shall we find out?"

The Supervillain tried to speak, they really did, but it felt like the couldn't get enough oxygen into their lungs. They couldn't- hyperventilating- their body was-

It was like their body couldn't tell how fast their heart was already beating, yet it felt in desperate need to beat faster.

Then, like a sudden plunge into icy water, everything in their body seemed to balance. Their head was spinning, but they could see their vision beginning to come back. They could make out a blurry figure standing above them that was starting to move away.

"If I ever see you anywhere close to my hero again, I'll get the answer to my question," they warned as they went back over to the Hero in question.

There was a flash behind them, and the Supervillain vanished as they crouched down, "Are you okay?"

"What-.... what the hell was-..."

"Where does it hurt?" the Villain asked instead.

"Everywhere?" The hero huffed, dropping their head to the marble floor below.

The Villain closed their eyes for a moment, and suddenly, the hero could feel the pain melting away.

"Better?"

"How the hell did you-"

"Let's just say I always go easy on my favourite hero," they stood up, extending a hand down to the Hero, "Come on, I'll stop the heist if I get to take you out to dinner, on me,"

"Only if it comes with a side of explanations." The Hero rebuked.

"Deal,"

With that, the Villain helped the hero to their feet. They may have had a lot of explaining to do. But they also had a steak to order, and they had their priorities in order.

[felassan]

Snippets. 🐺💜 DA:TV spoilers under cut.

Kala has heard rumors that there may be merch pins coming of Assan and Manfred [source]

(Previous comment for context - Dev Brenon: "You can sprint, there is also a dash/dodge move you can do for short range mobility - though I don't tend to use that much when exploring.") A user asked on this, "Will it be a push-to-sprint key, a sprint toggle, or other (to be explained later)?". Brenon replied with some more detail on this feature: "Right now it's a pseudo-toggle, you press it once (while moving) to start sprinting and then as long as you keep moving you keep sprinting. If you let got of the movement controls, you stop sprinting." [source: the official BioWare Discord]

User: "if a choice i made 30 hours ago affects me.. best believe im restarting the whole game". Brenon: "Uh oh''. User: "UH OH???". Brenon: "I mean... we do have "decision saves" before big choice moments, but there are still a bunch that depend on a whole mess of stuff you've done earlier... so... yeah... RIP :P" [source: the official BioWare Discord]

They hope to get a bunch more BioWare-themed emojis for the Discord [source: the official BioWare Discord]

Trick Weekes has been signing DA:TV stuff with "with love and appreciation for your patience" [source]

Carly: "theres so much id love to say, but i unfortunately can't , that being said, i hear y'all and love working on a game for such passionate people and hope y'all enjoy when it does come out 💕" [source]

Actor signing attendees report that it was amazing and that we're in good hands with this acting cast. You can see more photos from it here [source].

Dev signing attendees report that it was packed. You can see another photo from it here [source]. and here is a photo of the sign from it [source]

Another photo of the booth [source]. Sometimes at the booth the devs had a Solas statue [source] (this is done by Dark Horse). I think Dark were also displaying somewhere a Varric and a Cassandra statue too, and I think these were the ones that Dark Horse do too (Varric, Cass), but I can't find the image or video where I originally saw this anymore, sorry >.<

The companion tarot-style art from the website was shown on the big screen at the acting panel [source]

A few more details from the actor panel, from an attendee: John Epler said that this is the best group of companions written because of their relationships with each other, not just Rook. They can become friends, lovers, rivals with each other. Zach thought that Lucanis was the coolest character he gets to play. It sounds like he mentioned Illario [I'm assuming] by name. Lucanis is quick-witted. Neve is a bit of a romantic. Jessica found voice acting freeing as it felt like playing pretend when she was little. In her role, she felt like she could embrace being very powerful. Neve is passionate. On Emmrich, "wisdom, calm to group, warm-hearted, loves learning". Emmrich has some fantastic lines. Along with working with Varric to track down Solas, Harding has also been working with Rook and Neve. Ali talked a lot about how much collaboration there is between BioWare, the actors and the material they're given to work with. Harding has been through some things and has more of an edge to her, but they can't talk about it! [source]

A few more details from the actor panel, from an attendee - Jessica Clark: "A lot of the time, we kind've really all bonded in the way that we were intended to, you know? And that's why we've been so excited all week and all weekend, because we can be like 'oh my god you're here', 'oh my god you're here, you're here, you're here', finally, you know? You know, I know on a lot of projects people are like 'oh yeah, we're all like, we love each other', but we really do, we really really do, and it just evolved so organically, and there was something magical about it just being our voices in the beginning, you know, like, sort've taking anything else out of the [equation.]" [source]

A few more details from the actor panel, from an attendee - Nick Boraine: "I think I've been preparing for Emmrich all my life. I was very attracted to the role initially, and I was so, I was so, I was overjoyed when I got it, because I think it was, the writing of Emmrich is really fascinating, it's this, this man that is obsessed with death, on one hand, but on death as a comfort, death as a transition, death as something that is not scary, and that, that ability to enable people to transition and the investment that he gives in that sphere, which we don't give in our own lives. I was immediately attracted to that and I thought that that was, I'd never seen that before, so to go in these two ways, to talk about death and to talk about it in a way that is kind, and that the transition becomes a kind transition, that was fascinating to me, and I think, will be fascinating to you too." [source]

A few more details from the actor panel, from an attendee - Zach Mendez: "[before they started shooting] I did kinda get an idea about how passionate the fanbase was, which made me really excited. I don't wanna say nervous, because I don't say I'm nervous, I say I'm excited. And so, before the first day of shoot, I was very excited. And luckily, you know, Ashley and them, didn't have me do too much on the first day. I played a lot of darkspawn. I darkspawn-ed my ass off, though. I want you guys to know, I really. And when I got home, I thought to myself, 'Zach, did you darkspawn hard enough?' I was just worried. You know, and within an hour I got texts from Jeff, who's a part of this cast as well, and G, telling me what a great job I did, and then I'll never forget, I got a call from Ali Hillis down here, and I'll remember that conversation, because for thirty minutes she made me feel like I was welcome in the Dragon Age family, and it gave me so much confidence moving forwards. So thank you, Ali, so much, I still remember that." [source]

[Character limit text break!]

Varric and Manfred: "not romanceable" [source] ?

Neve mostly eats deep-fried fish [source], it makes up the bulk of her diet [source]

Bellara loves pan-fried fish [source]

John on SDCC: "thank you to everyone who came out to the signing. thank you to everyone who came out to the panel. thank you to everyone who said hi, swung by the booth, or otherwise expressed how excited you were about the game. absolutely amazing experience. was wonderful to see you all" [source]

There's a lot of lovely concept art for DA:TV [source]

Trick Weekes: "One of the things I was proudest of was inviting leads from other teams/departments into writing peer reviews and having them later say, "Wow, those critiques went deep, but everyone stayed professional and compassionate the whole time." My junior-most writer knew she could tell me I was wrong." [source]

Violet: "As we get closer to DATV, I just want to send out a reminder Var lath vir suledin 😭" [source]

Derek on the casting department: "They really did an incredible job! Every single one of these folks deliver such amazing performances." [source]

Derek: "a lot of great talent doing awesome stuff from KY nowadays. I count myself extremely lucky that I can work on such an amazing project with such a wonderful team straight from my home state!" [source]

Michael Gamble: "i know a few people on the DA team, and i want them to have a nice time." [source]

User, on the recent word count news: "Sooooo , when will I (we) get to hear all these words". Michael: "hopefully when the game is out." [source]

User, on the news of no microtransactions: "This is great news that I hope survives past the review period". Michael: "it will" [source]

User: "What class have you been playing as in DAV mostly?" Michael: "mage. i light everything up. everything." [source]

DAMP / multiplayer mode is not returning [source]

Ghil: "Im very sorry for the teasing tweet but to be very real, i really miss playing veilguard and to stop THERE and have to wait over a year is killing me tbh. Im bothered. My crops are dying. I am withering. I want to know what happens" [source]

A user asked a question around if there are dialogue options and choices available in the game that indicate a mixed or less favorable positive perspective on Solas. Bria, a Councilmember, shared: "As an Egg Cracker, I was pretty satisfied with what we saw. I don’t want to go into spoilers but I was able to play my Rook the way I wanted when it came to the Sad Egg Man." [source]

User: "would you be able to tell us if you can change your perspective while in a fight? Those circles we saw on the video were kind of hard to see from that angle". Ghil: "Like a bit- no promises but they told us a lot of stuff like that would be in an accessibility feature. I get pretty motion sick so I remember talking about backing it up a bit." [source]

Kala: "The amount of gasping, screaming, @/ElbenherzArt having to lay on the floor, @/hattedhedgehog and @/chaosbria having to stand up from excitement and us just being in shock the whole time. Yeah 🔟 😎" [source]

Kala shared that there are moments in the game that she knows people will freak out about [source], that in terms of marketing, she knows that the devs have more things planned [source], and that she found Bellara endearing, despite not usually vibing with optimistic and energetic characters [source]

Kala shared that she feels that the Lighthouse is way cooler than Skyhold [source]

Also, in early May 2024 Zach appeared on a podcast:

Zach: "I'm very excited because it looks like at the end of this year, the video game that I've been working on for about three or so years is gonna come out, and I'm really excited for that. I'm gonna come back on and I'm gonna promote that, you guys, you will have no choice, I'm coming back on." Host: "Does the video game feature dicks?" Zach: "I can't say too much about it, but it, it doesn't ignore dicks, you know what I mean? It doesn't, you know what, there might be, yeah, there's, it's a sexy video game, it's a hot video game." Host: "So are you a character?" Zach: "I'm a character in the video game." --- Zach: "I'm gonna come back on to promote the hell out of that, because I'm really excited about that. I'm still working on that, and that's been, like, I'm super grateful for that, because that's been going on for like three years and it's been consistent work." --- Zach: "I'm super excited about it [...]" "Other people help you make really amazing things, when humans get together they make pretty stuff, and this game looks amazing"

[source (acting career segment. source link isn't work-appropriate. I don't recommend the podcast)]

[sportsthoughts]

I am sick of Yohe's misery and spent five minutes thinking I wish I had ten nice things to read this morning before realising I could write them myself:

Jarry - who, let's not pretend otherwise, is not my favourite goalie in the NHL - was fantastic at lots of points especially at the start of the game (let's not talk about the bit where he wandered off at the end, we've all gone rouge at the end of a night out haven't we, let's not be judgemental). Do I know what makes a goalie fantastic? Not really. But he made lots of saves and there were many points where I thought we were done for but he came through. He really really tried and God loves a trier and it's also really nice that Ned got a bit of a break. Being a goalie for a special team like ours must be tiring

Nostril boy scored a great goal which is an enormous feat considering he was skating on a line with a Drew O'Connor who's shaved head looks so bad it would frankly throw anyone off their game. I wonder if Sid will now declare the baldness unlucky and send him to Geno's hair man

On that point - Doc admitted that his hair looks terrible - which, yes, I know that isn't exactly a win from a hockey perspective but it's a man showing self awareness which is a rare win for humanity and not to be overlooked. I think Yohe could actually really spice up his journalism by writing a piece on our hair to win ratio

Sid's assist on Raks' goal was gorgeous. Gorgeous!! It wasn't goal 600 but it was a point and a beautiful one AND we got to see him smile

Our powerplay wasn't horrific. Our PK wasn't horrific. At points they looked good! I didn't feel sick watching either and the dash managed to stay mostly sane!

All our young guys were pretty good! And hey!! We have young guys!! Young guys playing on our team!! Let us not be ungrateful for what we have. Do I squint at their numbers on my grainy livestream and say who is that? What line is that? Where did you come from? Yes, but change is sometimes good and they lower our average age by like ten years

Geno showed so much energy towards the end of the game. I know he didn't do much but my gosh he really tried! He clearly had the legs. I don't like to dwell on it but at some points last season he just looked slow and tired not quite there and last night he looked hungry for it! He's been so great this season. I could make a point about the motivational powers of the stache here but i'm not Rossi so i'll leave the RPF to those better qualified

Also, Geno's line started the game! We rarely get to see him being broody on the ice during the anthems so that was a lovely treat.

For my fellow stachefuckers, the sidstache (and rustache and others) are all going strong. How long will they survive? I'm not sure. But we've made it 20 days with our beautiful slugs intact and that's so much better than last year. We have so many pictures! So many gifs. So many clips of the stache being discussed! Movember 2024 has not disappointed

Finally, it was a Hockey Fights Cancer night! There were some lovely stories and it was so moving to see survivors celebrating at the game. I think this is where Sid would say something nice about hockey being more than a game and having the power to unite people and include them in a community and give hope and inspire and and and. So insert that here. I think he's right.

[maidflowery]

Fortified Wager ♠♠♠ 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 10

♦︎♦︎ Aventurine x Reader ♦︎♦︎ 𝕀𝕝𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

🄱🄰🄲🄺 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ 9】

𝕋𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥

𝐂𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐕𝐒 ����𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 (3)

POV: Aventurine

Owing to the nature of his profession, Aventurine had crossed paths with all kinds of individuals.

From riches to rags; from good to bad.

"Mr. Aventurine, while we initially praised your proposal, after reviewing your background, we've encountered a particular issue—namely, your past...”

“—I do! I do think your idea is fascinating. Still, no offense, but... you understand why my company can’t openly support someone like you, right?”

Those who were enamored with him and wanted to use him.

“Why?! Why do you have to kill your master?! It’s already bad enough that you’re a former slave, but a murderer?! How can we be together?! Papa won’t be fine with this!!”

“You're tantalizing to the eye, and your words are meltingly sweet, like honey... But at the end of the day, they belong to a gilded pauper. Don’t overstep your bounds. How about this: Be mine, and we can discuss this project further.”

Those who feared him and wanted him gone.

“All Avgins are treacherous bastards! Don’t trust any of his words! Lies, all of them!”

“If he kills before, then he’ll kill again. It’s him or us!”

After a multitude of such encounters, he developed a knack for reading their behavioral patterns. All he had to do was recall a similar individual from the past and make a conjecture based on their likely actions and tendencies. As a result, most social interactions became a routine for him—a game of guessing cards, one might say. And his guesses were usually right; it wasn’t even a gamble.

Human were selfish in nature. They made decisions that suited their own needs, depending on how they felt at the moment. As such, they ended up saying things they didn’t mean or couldn’t support, and decisions they later regretted or went back on.

The you of that night was most likely the same.

Hence, he had fully expected you to run.

He had expected you to make a mad dash for it, perhaps stumbling and tripping a few times with your newly obtained wealth in hand, before Billy Burnett could do anything to you.

But you didn’t.

The girl who almost bolted from the building from the sheer embarrassment, vanishing at every sign of his approach, didn’t run.

“Of course I know, you piece of shit!”

Hearing a dull, snapping sound, Aventurine instinctively turned around.

You were crying.

Under the flashing, drifting colors of the venue, the transparent tear droplet shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow.

Surely, nothing could be more beautiful, was his initial thought as he processed the sight.

“But so what—?! So what if he killed his master?! I’d have done the same!!”

It occurred to him that you were crying for him.

Billy roared back, “Shut up!! You're just a pathetic slut serving tables!! Do you really think I can't destroy you?! That worthless slave won't protect you from me!!”

Though you shook and trembled, you stood tall, unwavering in the face of such a menacing and fearsome opponent.

“Watch your language! Aventurine is one of our most valued customers, and we do not tolerate any form of abuse or mistreatment toward him!”

You, who couldn’t hold his gaze for even a second, now stared straight at Billy. His fist could strike at any moment, yet you glared at him with eyes fierce and determined, like tempered steel.

He couldn’t look away.

“—Given that this behavior has persisted, we are left with no choice but to ask you to leave and ban you from returning!”

Even as you spoke of those lines, you sometimes tripped over your words and stuttered, trembling the whole time—yet you remained unyielding.

You could lose everything, yet you gave it all at that moment—just for him.

Was there ever someone who fought this hard for him?

His mind retraced the past, searching for any patterns, resemblances, or any individuals—all the way back to when he first met Madam Bonajade, where he had to advocate for himself, and beyond.

He could recall no one.

╔══ ≪ ♠♣♠ ≫ ══╗

Big Baddie made two huge mistakes that night.

SLAM—!

“What... did you just say...?!” Big Baddie growled, about to pop a vein as he slammed his hands against the table. “Did you just threaten to ban me for the sake of that good-for-nothing slave?!”

His first mistake was saying that to an Aventurine’s fan.

THUMP—!

In response, you brought your feet on the table, stomping on it!

“There. Is. Nothing. That. Isn’t. Good. About. Him!!!”

With your arms folded behind your back, your right hand tightly clutched the emerald and the sapphire collar pin. You’d sneakily retrieved them so you could return them to Aventurine later.

Suppressing your fear, you exhaled, and...

“—Where do I even begin?! He has the most mesmerizing, luxurious blond hair that glimmers like spun gold in the sunlight. I mean, it’s not just blond, it’s practically ethereal! I can only imagine how soft and silky it must feel to touch! Don’t get me started on those eyes! His eyes are a stunning blend of violet and cyan, like a breathtaking sunset blending into the twilight sky. It’s like they were painted by the divine artist of history, a magical combination that captivates anyone who dares to gaze into them. Oh, those entrancing colors! It’s as if each hue tells a story all its own! One moment, they glimmer with an electric energy, bright and vibrant, and the next, they hold a mysterious depth that pulls you in! And let’s talk about his style! I mean, he carries himself with such confidence, as if he knows he’s the most stunning person in the room. He always manages to look effortlessly perfect. It’s like the universe conspired to create the ultimate dream guy, and here he is, gracing us mere mortals with his presence! When he strides into a room, his jacket flows around him like the tails of a majestic peacock, effortlessly catching the light. With each step, he exudes a sense of confidence and grace! When he reaches his destination, with a swift yet graceful flick of his wrist, he’d flap his jacket! And then, comes the moment when he tips his hat. With a charming smile playing on his lips, he tilts his head slightly forward and raises the brim of his hat just enough to reveal those stunning multicolored eyes! Honestly, it’s downright unfair how gorgeous he is! The star of the show is when he says, ‘All in!’ with that killer smile on his lips! Such wild, bold sexiness, it can paralyze a man on track! When he won, he’d never fail to treat everyone! He feeds the poor! He helps those in need! His grace and compassion extend far and wide, rivaling the ocean! What is he?! The second-coming of Messiah?! And let’s not forget about his personality! He’s kind, funny, and charismatic! He’s always thoughtful when asking a question, while being fully considerate of my feelings! Not to mention, he treated me to exquisite desserts, and even shared his drink when I choked! It’s like he’s the complete package—a dazzling appearance paired with a heart of gold! Ah, right, I also found out about his cologne recently, such a breath of fresh air it was—"

...unleashed all the vocabularies you’d learned from kindergarten to college!! Apparently, the God of Linguistics was with you tonight, as you had no trouble speaking out loud!!

The entire time, camera flashes endlessly went off around you. Some even blatantly recorded the whole thing.

“—SHUT UP—!! SHUT THE FUCK UP—!!” Big Baddie screamed, clutching his head.

Weak.

Even though you kept it to around 400 words or so! Someone who couldn’t withstand a fangirl’s rant shouldn’t be criticizing their idol in the first place!

At the same time, deep down, you wished that even a single word would reach him, though you dared not look at him. Actually, you’d understand if he left already.

Also, yes, of course you were aware of how you came across right now. Despite acting coy earlier, you just revealed to everyone that you were a rabid fan of Aventurine. And that you knew of his past. ...And that you sniffed him.

In fact, murmurs from the crowd reached your ears.

— “Uh, the fuck? That’s honestly so creepy.”

— “It’s the so-called Main Character Syndrome...”

— “Ugh, I’m dying from the cringe.”

— “Can someone take her away? Please?”

Clear liquid trickled down your cheeks as you steeled yourself.

But Aventurine endured worse than this, for his whole life...

No, these weren’t tears. These were merely the sweats of a fangirl desperately trying to defend her idol, using any means necessary. You raised your hand to wipe it, only to notice it was trembling—your legs were shaking as well.

...Whelp! Nobody said bravery is the absence of fear!

Then, you suddenly remembered a major issue!

“...Actually, I take it back. You’re no piece of shit.”

He called Aventurine “shit painted with gold,” didn’t he—?!

“You, who extort money from orphans, are even less than that!"

Hearing this, Big Baddie was stunned for a moment, but then flashed you a sinister grin.

“...Well, don’tcha just say a bunch of interesting things? Seriously, who put you up to this? Your manager is which bastard?”

Naturally, Big Baddie didn’t remember Marius. You also used a broader term for the twins so he couldn’t figure it out.

Tilting your head slightly to the side, you gave him a meaningful, taunting smile. You squeezed the gems harder as if they were prayer beads, wishing for strength.

“No one.”

“So, an outsider? Who was it?! Was it that bitch from the pub?! Need I remind her that I know which kindergarten her kid goes to?!”

Big Baddie glowered frenziedly at you, like a feral beast ready to pounce.

“...”

Instead of answering, you gave him a knowing smile, secretly maintaining your breathing.

“I know! It’s that old coot who lives under the bridge! I should’ve broken her other leg as well!”

“...”

Your trembling hand wrapped around the gems so tight, you could feel their girdles digging into your palm.

“It’s the fisherman—”

Big Baddie’s guesses—or more like, victims—went on and on.

The single mother whose child’s beloved stuffed toy was torn apart in front of them. The widower whose late wife’s ashes were scattered in the street. The woman whose dog was poisoned. The farmer whose field was burned overnight.

You were quiet the whole time, listening not just to Big Baddie, but also to your surroundings.

After your latest antics, more and more people gathered to see what was happening. Some, as mentioned earlier, even took photos and recorded everything.

Sure enough, they had something to say about the situation.

— “Wait, is this for real? If so, isn’t that guy just deplorable...?”

— “Didn’t he drink truth serum or something like that? I saw it in the show advertisement...”

— “That waiter said he punched her manager...”

— “I know this guy! He’s Billy Burnett! He drowns people in debt with his sky-high interest rates! When someone can’t pay, he beats them to pulp!”

— “I know the farmer whose field was burned personally!”

— “I saw the news about that local fisherman!”

— “Eek! Why is such a dangerous guy roaming around freely?!”

— “Why isn’t he arrested yet?!”

— ...

Right? That’s the normal reaction, right?!

The world hasn’t gone completely insane, after all!

You wanted to believe everyone’s heart was the same. Well, except for those who dined on the exclusive floor during Judith’s incident—if their skin were cut, no blood would come out.

But honestly, it was most likely due to the fact that you were in the main dance venue instead of the exclusive floor.

Your smirk deepened.

While maintaining a provocative grin, you asked him, “Aren't you basically admitting to your crime? Aren't you afraid someone will report you to the police?”

“The police?! Pfft, ahaha!” Big Baddie scoffed at you as if he’d heard the stupidest shit ever. “Do you see me getting arrested!? They work for me! I’m the law! I’m absolute!”

All traces of expression vanished from your face.

You couldn’t believe it.

You couldn’t believe he’d take the bait.

True enough, someone convinced they could do no wrong often ended up creating their own weakness. Such was Big Baddie’s second and also biggest mistake.

Judith’s incident must’ve been easy to cover up in the first place, as few guests dined on the exclusive floor. Moreover, they appeared to be closely associated with the CEO.

But in the main dance venue, people from all over the world, from different classes and backgrounds, gathered just to watch the lucky gambler set more records in his winning streak. The game was guaranteed free of foul play, thanks to truth serum and other measures. And unlike in the exclusive floor, cameras and recordings were allowed.

At this sacred table reserved for Aventurine, Big Baddie confessed everything as if he were in purgatory. He seemed nonchalant—proud even—boasting about his crimes as if they were meritorious deeds. He even admitted to having the police wrapped around his little finger, all while the cameras rolled and the audience watched.

Try to escape this!

🂡 🂠 🂣 🂠

The plan for tonight was simple:

Approach Big Baddie → Get punched (almost) → Return the wallet and phone → Run (do not actually run)

Anyone with eyes could see that it ended in a massive failure.

Moreover, there was a certain clause in the NDA you’d signed:

‘—Failure to adhere to the plan, engage in suspicious activities, or undertake actions that may damage the reputation of Primavera will result in severe consequences, including, at a minimum, permanent exclusion, and potentially legal action.’

It perfectly described what you did tonight, so a permanent ban was pretty much guaranteed at this point.

Above all, you really, really shouldn’t have punched Big Baddie.

In fact, your initial plan was to fake getting punched in front of a crowd, creating a classic "male Karen vs. retail worker" scene that would surely go viral the next day.

And yet, you ended up punching him instead.

Regardless of what was said or done, the person who threw the first punch would always be seen as the culprit, as it was a decisive act that set tone for the situation.

You were going down either way—there was no changing this fact.

The weekly free fine dining and Lazuli Bells. The casual banter and occasional venting sessions with the friendly bartender, Teo. The one-sided fangirling moments with the shy Celine. The bickering with Marius. And above all, watching Aventurine’s spectacular match—

—All of it would end after tonight.

“Why the hell are you laughing?!”

Seeing that you just stood there, grinning like a fool, Big Baddie lashed out.

“Because I’m happy.”

“What’s there to be happy about?! You’re fucking dead meat after this!”

“Oh, wouldn’t you want to know?”

In fact, no one would ever know.

If the first one counted, then tonight would be your second meeting with Aventurine.

A disgraceful first meeting, and an even more disastrous second one.

However, unlike that night, you didn’t just stand by while people badmouthed him.

Hence, if you could somehow go back and relive this night, you'd do it all over again.

“Shut it, mouthy bitch! Just admit you’re scared!”

“...Scared?”

Your smile twitched.

“Of a guy bragging about his crimes like they're some kind of heroic deeds?”

Perhaps—no, you were afraid of Big Baddie. But after seeing his most recent behavior?

“I’m embarrassed for you!!”

Your palm held the warm, faceted gems you needed to return later.

But first, to create an opportunity to flee amidst the chaos.

Your face, hidden beneath the butterfly mask, twisted as every muscle contorted to form one word: disgust.

You drew a deep breath, silently bracing yourself.

"—If I were you, I’d die from sheer fucking shame!”

There, more than seven words.

“YOU—!!”

Then, Big Baddie’s fist flew toward your face.

Now, count to three and duck...!!

You didn’t even get to count.

“Huh?”

In the next moment, your vision spun upward as a strong tug yanked at your right arm. Without warning, you were falling, seized by gravity. You reflexively closed your eyes.

CRASH!! SHATTER!!

A loud bang, followed by the sharp shatter of glass, boomed in your ears. People were screaming. At the same time, your back landed against something soft and velvety—the premium leather couch of Primavera.

What just...?

Cautiously, you pried your eyes open, then they flew wide.

He was all that you could see.

A pair of violet-cyan eyes, inches from your face, pierced you as their owner towered over you, his hands on either side of your body.

However, no trace of his usual nonchalance or cheerful demeanor remained, to the point where you almost suspected he was a completely different person. He was expressionless, completely devoid of emotions. Only his multicolored eyes, which bore into you, seemed to hold a subtle, lingering hint of something.

Yet, he was undoubtedly your idol, Aventurine.

Did he... help me?

The you reflected within his eyes showed a confused expression.

Once the shock faded, you realized you couldn’t move. He had positioned himself between your legs, pinning you underneath him. Yet, it wasn’t painful or suffocating, as he was careful not to crush you. Still, having to stay in this position, legs hooked around his waist, constantly reminded of his presence...

You reflexively twisted yourself, and your weak, vain struggle was met with a derisive chuckle.

“Someone’s clearly been working hard to earn those gems.”

As he spoke, his violet-cyan eyes flicked to your hand clutching the emerald and collar pin. Only then did you notice his hand firmly pressing against your wrist.

A roguish grin tugged at his lips, not reaching his eyes, yet still undeniably alluring. His shirt was open for some reason, revealing his toned, lean chest. His tousled blond hair was even more ruffled than before. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from such a wildly tantalizing figure.

“Just a reminder,” he went on, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he stared at you. “No amount of wealth can reverse death.”

These words held every bit of the laid-back man’s seriousness.

Yet, you didn’t pay them any heed—you couldn’t.

Because you saw what was going on behind his back.

“Die...”

Having missed his first punch, Big Baddie was more enraged than ever. He tore the table, which was nailed to the floor, ready to hurl it at both of you!

No...!

This all started with your plan. Aventurine was just an innocent bystander who got caught up in it!

“Aventurine—! Watch out—!”

You pulled him, not knowing where the strength came from. In the next moment, the position was reversed, with Aventurine beneath you. Even he was surprised, his eyes widening. You shielded him, desperate to protect every inch of him.

“BOTH YOU AND THAT WORTHLESS SLAVE CAN DIE TOGETHER—!!”

Please, just not Aventurine...!

Such was your heartfelt prayer as you clenched your teeth, bracing for the impact.

Instead of bone-wrecking pain, you felt an arm wrap around your back, pulling you into a tight, protective embrace.

Then, you heard him speak, right beside your ear.

“Fortified Wager.”

╚══════╝

🄾🄽🅆🄰🅁🄳 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ　１１】

[0v3rcast]

Gnaw (part 1)

Contains: Body Horror, Blood, Violence

You had fallen to Teyvat some time ago, pulled down from the sky by a brilliant platinum star, the elements gently beckoning for you, all of them trying to prove their land the most suitable for your descent.

"Welcome back, Sea-shaper," Hydro murmurs, their voice the babbling of streams and the roar of the angry sea all at once. "Fontaine has such sights to show you. As you created, we have created to honor your actions. For your beauty, we have made our people beautiful. You will want for nothing-"

"COME TO US, HOLY TINDER," Pyro roars, its voice the starving crackle of flame and the churning of molten rock as volcanoes erupt. "NATLAN AWAITS YOU WITH AN OFFERING OF ENDLESS PASSION. YOU SHALL NEVER GO UNPROTECTED, UNLOVED, OR HUNGRY."

"Welcome, almighty Whirlwind of Creation," Electro purrs, speaking with the rattle-boom of echoing thunder. "Shall you grace my people with your presence?"

"Welcome home, Blessed Foundation," Geo hums, their voice the whispers of sand and the ancient growl of tectonic plates shifting. "Liyue has grown prosperous since you've last seen it. Perhaps you should come to us instead, where the riches of Teyvat could be put directly to use in pleasing you?"

"Don't listen to them, First Breath! We've waited for you the longest, like, a whole forever! We were first!" Anemo pleads, in the tones of breeze softly rustling leaves and howling tornadoes. "Even if you just stop by, that's totally fine!"

"You've finally come home, Heart of Winter? Good. We have missed you so." Cryo coos, the flurrying of snow and ancient creaking of glaciers their voice. "Snezhnaya may be a harsh land, but faith is enough to warm the bodies of my people."

"Flower of Irminsul, Root of All, please! You cannot come down! Another wears your face, please turn back if only for a few more days!" Dendro howls, desperate, voice a cacophony of falling trees and leaves rustling. "You ar-"

Dendro's voice fades as you pass the point of no return and begin to burn through the sky towards Mondstadt, Anemo ripping at the air to direct your course even as the other elements rage at them for their impudence.

As you fall, the memory of this conversation fades from your mind.

Welcome home, Maker, whispers the Abyss into the back of your mind.

Since that day, your time in Teyvat had become quite difficult. Whatever hopes you'd had for this world were soundly dashed.

Mondstadt 'welcomed' you with scorn and hostility for sharing the same face as their Heiliger Schöpfer, the Divine above Divines.

You were unsure as to why they hated you so, simply for your face- especially since that face is one that's otherwise looked kindly upon in this world.

You do your best to take in the sights, all the same. Though you are confused by the frosty reception, this place is so much more interesting than the game shows.

There are many more homes and people, you see (and pet) some stray animals, pick a particularly low philanemo mushroom after a couple seconds of jumping and stretching in an attempt to reach it, and generally just enjoy the (rather tense) locale.

Your confusion became fear when the Knights of Favonius begin to chase you. You'd done no crime, why would they hunt you like this, especially with such wrathful looks on their faces?!

The closest you get to meeting any of the allogenes on friendly terms comes when you breeze past Sucrose, yelping out a greeting to her. She just watches you go, incredibly confused, before a Knight accidentally bowls her over in his maddened rush after you.

Just as you exit the gate, the Knights just behind you, yelling curses and what you presume are threats-

P a i n.

Eula Lawrence just pushed a greatsword through your lungs and out your back. You have no clue how she got here so fast, where from, or how you didn't notice her.

You gag and choke as your blood quickly rushes into the space (and out of your body, simultaneously).

With a vicious yank, she tears it from you in a diagonal motion, nearly carving you in half.

A darkly satisfied look in her eyes is all you receive when you uselessly try to gasp for air and plead for help.

Your vision begins to fade, but before you can die of blood loss her boot comes down.

(Your nascent godhood activates the moment you die, and it plots a new trajectory: your misery will shape you until such a time comes that you will never feel this suffering again.)

You wake screaming in the woods, hands coming to clutch at your chest.

A massive golden scar lies just between your xiphoid process and sternum, perfectly horizontal in a way that only comes with practice.

Your clothes are covered in the brownish rusty red of old dried blood, and quite badly torn from where you were sliced nearly in two.

Breathing feels... easier, somehow. Like your lungs didn't just heal from immense trauma.

Your stomach aches badly and your mouth feels like it's full of sand. How long have you been laying here beneath the sun?

Your attempts to rise from this resting place are fruitless. You're so exhausted you can barely move your fingers.

Darkness slowly weighs your eyelids down and you fall asleep, even though you know you should not.

---

Elsewhere in the world, a being wearing your face stares up at a statue to themselves, noting with some alarm the golden scar across its chest.

The only recent news they had about an imposter was the Lawrence outcast running one through.

Now they'll have to find some way to replicate your scar and keep up the ruse.

"The original has truly descended, then... fine." They hiss, words venomous, glaring at the face of the statue. "If I can't have this place as my playground, then they won't get to have you."

---

The next time you wake, it is night, and the hunger in your belly is gnawing at you with such fervor that you feel lightheaded.

When you stand, your head twinges with pain as if to protest even this miniscule expenditure of energy.

Your body stumbles at first, briefly overcome by vertigo, but quickly adjusts.

Your mind changes its tune completely upon seeing a plump, ripe Sunsettia growing on its branch.

You desperately scramble over to pull the Sunsettia from the tree- only for it to drop into your waiting hands as soon as you reach up.

The 'how' of this doesn't quite matter to you in the moment. You bite into the ripe fruit and moan in bliss at the tart taste of the flesh and the sweetness of the juices. Within twenty seconds, you've reduced this fruit to a nubby pit, almost like a peach has.

That's kinda neat, actually. You distantly wonder what you have to crossbreed with a peach to make Sunsettias.

You pat the tree as if to thank it, not noticing that it suddenly stands a bit straighter or how its leaves are just a tiny bit greener, and go to find a nice place to put down this future Sunsettia tree.

You eventually get bored of looking for a good place and just poke a hole into the ground with a fallen branch, then stuff the remains of your first Sunsettia into the hole.

You wander off into the woods in hopes of finding a road, unaware of the golden-leaved sapling slowly growing behind you.

With a new source of energy in your system, you feel the urge to get moving- might as well make the most of this while you have it.

Your stamina is better than before, it feels like. Distances that previously felt difficult feel easier on your legs- and definitely on your lungs.

Perhaps this has something to do with your demise?

...what's that weird whistling soun-

You fall, dead, an Anemo-enriched arrow punching through the back of your head.

For a brief moment, you dream of a place deep beneath the surface of Teyvat, and a ruined statue oozing corruption into infinite darkness.

You wake with a small headache, very hungry, and more than a little pissed. Won't people just leave you the fuck alone?

Somehow, you feel sturdier. Less breakable. As nice as that is, you don't particularly feel up to testing it.

You stand.

Perhaps you should avoid civilization from now on.

[muzzlemouths]

I JSUT SAW THE DIR CUT THING EXPLODES okay okay i have so much i wanna ask(mostly related to the polls im sorry its so interesting of a mechanic) . ! - FIRST did you originally plan on the fic to be poll based or was it a later decision? - did we as a collective ever make any/a ddecision you were genuinely surprised about? any big things you had/(have? 👀) in mind only for us to totally dash your hopes and dreams? - are any of the counselors ones you're sad died? who has been the most disappointing for you so far? (who were you hoping would survive?) - if you could give us a rating 1-10 or so, how well would you say we've done so far? (personally id give it a B ish..) - Aside from Chet, could we have saved everyone? (also because im a sucker for feels, were any of the kids who died personal hits for sun/moon? any close bonds that were cut?)

⭐️ Director's Cut ask game

Did you originally plan on the fic to be poll based or was it a later decision?

I wanted it to be poll based from the start! I first came up with the idea last October, but I was originally going to do it similar to OWRF. Within that year, however, I realized that using polls would streamline the process and make it much easier on me, which is fantastic, because writing OWRF with the initial Choose Your Own Story mechanic I'd been using felt like trying to control a derailing train at all times.

Did we as a collective ever make any/a ddecision you were genuinely surprised about? any big things you had/(have? 👀) in mind only for us to totally dash your hopes and dreams?

All of them. I need y'all to understand I had to sit down and rewrite a solid chunk of my outline because I had set it up/started writing certain scenes under the assumption that that's the route/decision we'd be pursuing, but time and time again, everyone surprised me.

I wasn't expecting y'all to save Dolly (much less be so passionate about turning this into an Everyone Lives run), I wasn't expecting you to trust Moon (though in hindsight, I should have known. This is their fandom we're in after all), and I definitely wasn't expecting this last decision to be such a tight race.

Complete transparency here, I had fully anticipated that the majority vote would be to Agree(lie), and I had to scramble to rearrange some pieces of the outline when it became glaringly obvious that lying was the last thing any of you wanted to do. I'm grateful for it, though.

I said it before and I'll say it again: the y/n of this story changes with each decision made. They have some set personality traits, sure, but most of it is entirely determined by you, the readers. Seeing the votes flood in — with lying as the least popular opinion — not only surprised me but gave me a much needed reality check on where our y/n stands, which in turn allowed me to scrap the original first page of what happened next in favor of writing something that is reflective of the decision, and I am much happier with it now. Proud of you guys.

Are any of the counselors ones you're sad died? who has been the most disappointing for you so far? (who were you hoping would survive?)

Man. Man. Had you asked me my opinion on Chet at the beginning of writing this fic I'd have read the guy to filth. But now? Regretfully I am beginning to like him. I'm almost upset that I'd made the decision to make his death inevitable, but so much hinges on it, so it was a necessary sacrifice. (Also, I'm supposed to remain unbiased about these things, but if you guys get Oscar killed I will cry and cry)

If you could give us a rating 1-10 or so, how well would you say we've done so far? (personally id give it a B ish..)

Considering we're currently on what I consider the best route? I'd say you're doing pretty damn well! There hasn't been a single vote thus far that leads to the bad route, and the results of the most recent poll have officially locked us out of the bad route entirely. I am clapping and cheering for you!!!! congrats!!! 🎉

Aside from Chet, could we have saved everyone?

You could, and you still can! But Oscar isn't the only life you will need to save.

[oceandiagonale]

Volo here got a speedrun record of getting into a meanful relationship AND breakup, bro just went for it

Meanwhile Guzma over here is stuck in a 500k slowburn fic like a true soldier

PFFFTTTTTT

volo, speedrunner: and if we stand in this spot at JUST the right time and we have the right Secret ID and world seed -- this is why we did the RNG manipulation at the start of the game -- you can clip out of bounds and go directly to the end credits. It's all really quite simple, I got it on my first try, though I did have an advantage in that I was familiar with most of the controls from the prequel series --

guzma, completionist: so we're almost done with collecting every recipe -- we just gotta remake a couple of 'em with different toppings and we're missing some of the desserts that're locked behind other events and the skilltree. Now we've been grinding up for skill points, but we're actually gonna put these towards upgrading our dash ability and mitigating effects of low sleep, it's gonna really matter in the next -- chat, I already TOLD ya the romance skill tree's locked for a couple more plot points -- no, I'm not gonna use a speedrun strat to activate it before the cutscene!! -- chat, this isn't rigged, it's -- you're here at an 100% stream, you're gonna have t'wait -- all right, knuckleheads, I'll unlock the screaming sound for 2 minutes if ya wanna waste all your channel points on it, but I'm gonna keep makin' mac n cheese while you're doing that -- IT'S NOT RIGGED!

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.153 Another one

It's 3 a.m., and I'm jolted out of that good good sleep because Desiree is screaming like she's trying to raise the dead or something. I jolt up, disoriented and dazed, and dash to the nursery to see what she needs, but when I get there, I see that she is flat out pissed. Of course, I don't like that she is unhappy, but her little down-turned eyebrows and poked out lip make me laugh. She looks like I owe her money or something, heh. Infant life is so hard. Your caretakers are asleep when you're awake, you can't do anything for yourself, and to top it off, there's no one to hold you at night. That's what she's really mad about because as soon as I pick her up, everything is peachy. She's getting so smart and figured out how to game the system and bend it to her will. When she screams, I come running and pick her up. Fortunately for her, I love holding her. At some point, however, she's going to have to learn she can't be in our arms 24/7.

She's so beautiful and looks more and more like Sophia every day. And she's strong too. I think it's time to get her mobile, or at least sitting up on her own. Then we can feed her in the highchair and start exploring different foods. As fun as that adventure sounds, I also kinda want her to stop growing for a little while. Tami, Dub's daughter, is a toddler already, and it feels like she was just born a few days ago. They grow up too fast, and before we know it, they'll be in high school making googly eyes at boys.

I tried to put her back in the crib a few times, but she had a fit at every attempt. It was just after dawn when she was sleepy enough to accept I know best. I need a nap too, but there's no use in trying to go back to sleep now. The sun is rising, so I grab Rosie and go for a jog. Fresh air and an increased heart rate will wake me right up. It's been a minute since we've done this, and she is stoked. My knees, on the other hand, are not. (sigh)

When I get to Dad's house, I want to stop in and say hello even though I know he's not there. It's so weird seeing it there, waiting for me to do something with it. I know grief is a process, and eventually I'll get to a place where seeing it brings back happy memories instead of reminders that he is no longer with us, but I want to be there now.

It's funny how being a parent changes how I look at the world. Things I've ignored for years suddenly become relevant. Like, I just realized there's a park behind his house. I probably saw it many times and forgot about it because it had nothing to do with me. But today, I feel like I'm seeing it for the first time and am glad Desi won't have to go too far to meet other kids and stretch her imaginative wings. At least I hope there are other children in this neighborhood. All the ones I knew are all grown up now. Regardless, there are plenty of places in this city where we can take her to socialize.

Just as I headed back home, Mama called to tell me Dwayne had passed away. I give her my condolences and tell her we'll be around as soon as Sophia wakes up. This is just not our family's week. Mama lost both her loves pretty much at the same time, and despite my feelings about that situation, it can't be easy for her to deal with, and I feel for her. But what alarms me the most is knowing her time is even shorter than I thought, and I don't know how to reconcile that.

[luciellita]

The Fallen Apple: Stained Memories

"Memories last forever."

╰---•❥ Written by: Lucielitta

A Haitani brothers x sister reader One shot.

Length: 1,666 words

"Don't you think it's also time?" The eldest peered in, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips; his voice trailing off the moment he looked forward.

"Never mind," He dismissed with a soft chuckle, returning his gaze to the crimson red in his hand. "You're never sure of your answers anyway." The sound of the knife carefully peeling the skin off of the apple was quiet, steady.

"No, no," the middle mused, his smirk never leaving his face as he leaned on the wall beside his elder brother. "She's not one to decide on anything at all." His chuckle was a hint of fondness and humor as he thought about their sister. "She always has to have someone else tell her what to do."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Ran hummed at Rindou's words with a small smile, finding it humorous. He snickered; reminiscing the time when they were younger.

When the evening scene would fall and the siblings snuck away from the harsh reality of living and escaped to the nearby playground, the empty expanse of the area served as their sanctuary. They would swing on the swings with reckless abandon, chase each other through the shadows in a game of tag, and fill the cold air with their laughter and fun, embracing the simple joy of being just kids.

"Not this time!" She ran as fast as her legs could go as she rounded a corner with fixed street lights. Her brothers followed behind as one stopped to a halt. Holding her knee, she caught her breath. "That-that was fun!" She spoke between ragged breaths, smiling wildly. However, Rindou was more worried than happy. "ARE YOU INSANE?!-" he practically yelled. Sure, he had his fun. But she surprised him with the sudden dash. His sister calmly spoke before he could say another mouth full of worry.

"Hey! Rin-nii, come on! It's okay. I mean," raising her hand, she reassuringly pats him on the shoulder. "When was the last time we've done something like this?" She expressed. It was true. It's been a long time since they have last done this. Since their involvement with a dangerous community, they haven't had much fun like this. All they did was wait, wait, and wait. Be there for each other and avoid danger at all times. But not today. This day, they're going to have fun.

No busy schedule, tiring days, or worry will stop her from having fun once in a while.

"Nii-chan-really. It's okay! Stop worrying so much. Come on. Let's have some fun," reassured her anxious brother.

Sweat was running down his furrowed brows and fogged his glasses. "Even just for a little bit." Wanting to let this slip, even just for once. As she looked at her brother, pleadingly.

"Fine... I give in." Rindou sighed heavily. Finally: giving in, cracking a slight nervous yet mischievous smile on his face. "Finally. You're so lame all the time." The girl teased, laughing lightly while he playfully rolled his eyes at her, adjusting his tilted glasses.

"Oi! You two!" An angry voice yelled behind, running after the two with urgency and worry. "Where are you going?!" The silhouette stepped into the light, casting the veins on his forehead. "You either get back here or else!" He warned.

The girl laughed in amusement as she grabbed Rindou's shaky hand, turning their backs on Ran and dashed for it. "I'M- I'M SORRY!!" The brother screamed, his coolness went away as fear took over him while he let his sister lead him away from the unavoidable trouble they faced.

He wondered, just what are they gonna do once Ran catches up to them?

The girl laughed nervously, a blurred mix of fear, adrenaline, and fun filled her senses. Her brother, Rindou, beside her, looked up at Ran with regret and fear in his eyes.

Ran snickered, laughter bursts out of his calm facade, "It's either that or she just freezes up and leaves or does everything at once." He snickered at the memory, "It was so damn hilarious."

"I can't believe she just did that!" Rindou spoke with disbelief and nervousness on his face as he pointed at their sister, "I was just trying to catch her before you came back but- She just grabbed my hand and ran away!" He explained hurriedly to their older brother who wore a frustrated expression on his face. His two-braided hair was slightly disheveled from the chase.

"You..." Ran's voice trailed to a low grumble, burying his face into the palm of his hand before looking down on her, sighing. "I know you want to have fun but you have to let me know next time." He spoke to her, looking between Rindou and the girl. Even he can't handle her wild attitude.

Sweat ran down her forehead as she looked up their older brother with nervousness. Rindou, stepped back away from the tension with a apologetic look on his face for her.

"And next time..." His voice dropping na octave lower, a hint of warning in his tone. "Don't. Cause. Trouble."

"I'm..." She gulped, "Sorry..." She smiled nervously, standing still as his worried and frustrated figure walked towards hers.

His knife made its way around it's skin, separating it's flesh, it followed by a crisp snap that broke away from the flesh of the apple; snapping both the brothers thoughts away from the memories that kept them away, away from the recent incident that occurred because of themselves.

A quarrel between the Haitani's, a rare occurrence for them began in their residence. Harsh words were hurled at between the two; each word threatening their bond and loyalty towards one another as inner turmoil fogged the mind of the eldest's calm facade.

"Nii-chan! Just what is going on? Why are you doing this?? Why leave?!" Rindou let out a yell, slowly approaching him from the door, a mix of anger and confusion in his voice as he stared at Ran who turned his back on them.

"You two... Are well off in where you are. I don't want to bring any more danger in our family."

His response bubbled up emotions within Rindou. Worry, fear, and the unsureness of this sudden decision. "Do you even hear yourself?! We've always lived this kind of life- and you- you're just gonna leave when everything's going on our way?!" He questioned, seeking an explanation from his older brother's behavior. "You're being unreasonable! Maybe you should listen to us instead of trying to control everything yourself!"

Muffled voices rang in Ran's ears as his vision fogged up.

He had always thought that as long as they have each other, they can get through anything. Being the driving force behind their rise, that influence and power would allow them survival and living. But the moment he led them into the life of delinquency, danger loomed behind them like a cloud of raining disaster and that was then he knew that it was no longer enough.

With their sister's presence, he realized how fragile their lives were more fragile that he had thought. He couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to them, and he knew that his own actions and choices had led them down a dangerous path.

However, he realized that this life was his and his alone. His siblings did not belong in this world, no matter how skilled or resilient they were. It was a dangerous and unpredictable life, and he wanted to keep them as far away from it as possible. And so, he decided to distance himself now that he knows that they are well off by themselves. Away from the danger that he's carrying.

But how could they understand that when it's engraved in their minds about their loyalty and bond with one another?

His fists were clenched to his sides and as he spun around to beat some sense into his little brother. The time suddenly slowed down yet he couldn't stop his fist from swinging once from the sudden realization.

The girl stumbled backwards, her head crashed into the sharp corner of the ground with a sickening thud and crack. A gasp escaped her lips, her vision swimming as she crumpled to the ground. It left her dazed and disoriented. And within a few seconds, she let out a pained cry, her hand instinctively flying to the back of her head where a lump was starting to form.

The sound of her pain echoed throughout the room, snapping the brothers' horror-filled gazes of their sister on the ground. Ran rushed to her side as Rindou stumbled his way on her other, unsure of what to do while worry and fear overtook his mind.

Ran reached down to carefully lift her pained head up from the ground and placed her head on his lap while reassuring her that she'll be fine.

"Rindou! What are you doing there- call an ambulance!" Ran called, his voice breaking Rindou out of his shock as his hand shakily dialed the number and called the operator.

The elder brother looked down as sweat dripped down his forehead and onto her shaking form. Her blood was so red, it mixed with his hands' as her skin turned cold and pale.

It was in his hand-The pale unsliced innards of the apple were laid upon their eyes, leaving a reminder of their sister's current state.

She laid on her bed of white, skin; pale. The monitors hooked on her body made a rhythmic intervals that broke the stillness that sounded the room. Each a quiet, reassuring soft hissed whisper reassured her waiting brothers that she still clung onto to life.

He looked down at his hand, mind still in the past, feeling the slick warmth and seeing the vivid reddened hue staining his skin.

Ran wondered if it was her blood or just the lingering heat from the apple that still clung to his palm. Perhaps it was both.

- Did I do this Tumblr thing right?

Notes:

This is my first time in years since I started writing again so I'm starting to try to get comfortable with this.

It's messy but I tried.

[theunknownmasks]

Dash Game: Behind the Mun

Name: Lulu/Bitch or Bootie-mun (old name from YGO fandom @thekingofdoorsbitch)

Most Active Muses: Lord I have a better time on discord getting the muses out but here we go. Lucifer, Stolas, Moxxie, Atem is always easy to get out, Bakura, Ryou, Yuugi. So far the easiest for me to throw out there.

Experience: I've been roleplaying for over 15+ years (I'm fucking 32 mfs). I'm an old bitch. We've been doing rps like old school in notebooks passing to partners in class, graduated to various web forums, myspace mostly where I got a lot of my experience or mypoetry.com, yahoo/skype/aol/fucking almost all the chatrooms that used to exist for messaging people, gaiaonline as well mostly as Sebastian Michaelis and Lelouch Lamperouge, to migrating to tumblr in 2015 or so time around then as a Lelouch from Code Geass, then discord is kinda a permanent home for when I'm not in the mood to be here or too tired and easier for me to reply to things at work.

Fluff, Angst, or Smut: Love them all! I'm a HUGE SUCKER FOR ANGST AND SMUT THO. Angst is where I write my BEST work. If you wanna cry or hurt your muse, plot the weirdest most fucked up shit I'm yo girl. All things are agreed on usually behind the scenes in DM's and I never do anything that the other mun doesn't like. Everything is always talked about BEFORE we write so that way no toes are stepped on unless we're new mutuals and I don't know you well enough what triggers you. I try my best however! Also love to be a horny hoe so...there's there lmao

Long or Short Replies: It depends honestly. Lot of times my muses direct how shit goes besides my mood. So if low mood it's small replies unless our chemistry is high or that muse is high. Sometimes I do long as well. Just like there to be something for me to answer to cause no one likes getting a reply you can't build off of.

Pet Peeves: Constantly pestering for responses unless we're really close like my wife. Wife has those privileges or my closest friends but please keep in mind I eventually get to them. The more you bug me the more I won't feel like replying to it. I hate to sound like that but, my energy comes and goes with depression so I'm working with what I got I'm also a grown adult with a job and about to be a supervisor so my stress is rather high. Really trying to work on it so please be patient. Also really do not like people who cannot separate mun and muse. Just because my character does something or agrees with something DOES NOT mean I do. Like I rp some villains and they have some very fucked up thoughts/feelings/opinions. This does not mean I support these ideas. For example I've written some VERY dark themes like forced sex, murder, suicide, etc (again all agreed on for plot and fun). I DO tag these and if you see anything you want me to tag please tell me directly. Communicate I'm not a mind reader and I don't expect you to be!

Are You Like Your Muse: A large few lmfao. I'm most like Luci, Mox, and Stolas. Big heart, super sensitive, chronically depressed lesbian but horny on the down low. Then I got a potty mouth XD like Inuyasha.

Time to Write: When my brain isn't being a fuck wad but mostly Fri's and Sat's or when I have time tbh.

Tagged by: @onehellishcollection (cute ass wife)

Tagging: YOU IDK WHO'S NOT DONE THIS??

[hazel-islivingtrash]

New chapter inbound! Satoru and Suguru have a little date together, which leads to them being covered in flour and [redacted]~

You'll have to wait until tomorrow to see where it takes them ;)

This chapter will be posted at my usual time of around 3pm eastern time! I meant to post this sneak peak yesterday but I was busy moving back home from college and revising the chapter :))

Also! Before we get into the sneak peek, I want to thank everyone for all their support and questions lately! We've hit 300 kudos on From the Start which is absolutely breathtaking😭😭 ❤️❤️ I've been having a lot of fun answering them and interacting with you guys <3 You're all the best! Lots of love❤️❤️

Now, sneak peek time~

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Sneak peek of chapter 15: More Than Anythin’ I Ever Felt Before (spoiler free)

“Almost done,” Suguru said, sliding over the tray filled with cupcake liners. “We’re gonna fill these around halfway then stick ‘em in the oven for around 18 minutes.”

Satoru nodded and started to help him, filling up all 12 slots, sneaking a taste of the batter when some of it dripped onto the pan.

He started trying to wipe up the mess he left on the counter as Suguru placed the cupcakes into the oven. They both cleaned up most of the mess, and as Satoru was tossing a paper towel into the trash can, a cloud of white dust curled around his head.

“What the…?” He said as he turned to Suguru, who was suspiciously hiding his hands behind his back, his eyes lit with a bright fire.

“What was that?” Satoru questioned, leaning to try to get a look at Suguru’s hands. He barely had enough time to register what was happening when one of those hands came up and splashed his face with flour. 

Suguru started laughing hysterically as Satoru stood there dumbfounded, his jaw hanging open in shock as flour dusted his face. Suguru had to brace himself on the counter, he was laughing so hard, which gave Satoru enough time to come to his senses for revenge. Two can play at that game.

He grabbed a handful of flour himself and dashed behind Suguru, bringing his hand up to the man’s chest to pull him upward. Suguru’s laughs abruptly stopped at that motion and turned into a shrill gasp when Satoru tossed flour back into his face.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

If this intrigues you, it would be amazing if you could check out my fic! Updates are posted every Saturday!

Current status of fic:

Current status of fic: 14 out of 25 chapters complete, just under 80k words ❤️❤️

**The story is rated mature and with a warning of graphic depictions of violence.

[666writingcafe]

Hello, hope you've been well! May I please have an order of,

“Look at you, squirming under me, all flushed and pretty looking. Can’t even take a little teasing, can you?” for Levi with a side of femdom if you don't mind

You've done such lovely work with your menu items, I'm 😍

Order #8

“Look at you, squirming under me, all flushed and pretty looking. Can’t even take a little teasing, can you?” Levi x FemDom!MC

I really wish MC was here right now. Their presence alone would have stopped tonight's dinner conversation in its tracks before it had even begun.

Unfortunately, they're in the human world with Solomon at the moment, running errands and visiting their parents, so I'm stuck having to listen to my brothers talk about pegging.

It predictably started with Asmo recounting one of his latest adventures at the club. Apparently, one of the frequent succubi visitors convinced him to go home with her and have her top him. Normally, I'd pop in my earbuds and drown him out with music, but Lucifer has recently put a ban on using our phones at the dinner table. I get that he wants us to bond as a family or whatever, but if that's the case, then he really ought to set some ground rules for appropriate conversation topics, because I'm pretty sure Asmo's sexual escapades would not make the list. Then, at least I can sit through a whole meal without feeling the need to throw up.

"Don't get me wrong, it was a nice experience, but I felt like something was missing," Asmo tells us. "It was almost like...I didn't trust her authority or something. Isn't that weird?"

"Not necessarily," Satan replies, much to everyone's shock. "Think about it for a second: we've all given control over to someone else. We feel an obligation to serve this particular individual in a way that we haven't ever done previously, which will make it harder for another person to change where our loyalties lie."

"I guess, but there's no way she's done something like that, right? I mean, getting on top and riding is one thing, but to have that much control over someone? Surely she'd think it was crossing a line and potentially abusing her power?" Silence. Lucifer and Beel exchange glances before taking a sip out of their drink, and Mammon's face reddens as he stares down at his plate. I try to take the opportunity to excuse myself so that I can hole up in my room, but Belphie's voice stops me in my tracks.

"MC has, and she will continue doing so." I nearly drop my plate. You would think that I'd be used to my brother's bluntness by now, but there are times where it still catches me off guard.

"And how would you know, Belphie?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Asmo's eyes widen.

"When did this happen?" Belphie shrugs.

"Last time she was staying with us."

"And you did it before me?!"

"You were busy. She didn't want to bother you." Belphie pauses. "Although if you're looking for the person who put the bug in her ear to begin with, I'd focus your attention at the head of the table."

"Seriously, Lucifer?!" I take advantage of the ensuing squabbling to leave the dining room completely. Putting my dirty plate in the sink, I dash up the stairs and into my bedroom, quickly closing the door behind me before sinking down into my gaming chair.

I'm more flustered than anything else. To be honest, I've thought about asking MC to do that sort of thing with me, but I was afraid they wouldn't be into it. But the fact that they've done it multiple times with different people...

I boot up my computer and pull up the human world's take on Solitaire on it. I don't have to think too much about it, and it should distract me from the unwholesome thoughts brewing in my head, at least for a little while.

~~~

Bzz-bzz.

A text notification.

Are you awake?

Shit.

yeah. everything okay?

Yep. Will be outside your door in a moment. I have a present for you.

I swallow nervously as I get up from my chair and walk towards the door. After the events at dinner, I can't imagine MC's visit is going to go all that well; I'm going to end up being a stammering mess.

Turning the door handle, I step out of the way so that she can enter my room. She's wearing a black trench coat, the belt tying it shut around her waist.

"Close the door." I do as she asks, and she mutters something as she draws symbols on the door with her finger. When she's finished, the symbols faintly glow white.

"Making sure no one can barge in and interrupt us," MC explains, stepping away from the door before plopping down on the beanbag chair in the corner.

"Your brother blew up Solomon's phone. He was furious over what was discussed over dinner tonight, and I think Solomon only succeeded in enraging him even more. I figured that if he felt that way, then you'd be moments away from flooding the damn place, and I wanted to make sure you were okay." I know she can see right through my forced laugh.

"I'll be fine," I tell her. "Just a lot to take in, that's all."

"Understandable. Didn't think I'd be into it, but I've come to enjoy making powerful, stoic men whimper and beg for me." Another swallow. I feel my face warm up.

"Solomon's been a bad influence on you," I murmur.

"Oh, I've always been blunt. I just know when to reel it in and when to let it out. Which brings me to my main point." MC stands up and beckons me over to her.

"I want you to unwrap me," she instructs. My brain momentarily shuts down, but then with shaking hands, I untie the coat's belt. MC pulls her arms out of the coat and lets it drop to the floor, revealing...

Fuck.

I find myself dropping to my knees.

It's my color.

"I knew you'd like it," she whispers, gently stroking the plastic strap-on. "I found it the other day at one of the shops Solomon and I stopped through. Wanna touch it?"

I tentatively wrap my hand around it and instantly freeze. It shouldn't feel like that.

"Magic, I'm assuming?" MC nods their head.

"Created to feel like the real thing to the person on the receiving end. They had different colors, and I might go back and get more, but I wanted to test it out with you first, if that's okay with you."

I'm in a daze as she helps me up and guides me over to my bed. A recent purchase, mainly for MC's benefit. The bathtub is too small for two people, after all.

She removes my pants and underwear and tosses them to the side, then reaches over me to grab the lube off the bedside table. Once her fingers are coated adequately, she circles my rim a couple times before sticking one inside.

The sensation makes me squeak, and a couple thrusts have me shaking at her touch. MC giggles.

"Look at you, squirming underneath me with that pretty flush all over your face," she coos. "Can't even take a little bit of teasing, can you?"

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy

[blackjackkent]

Prompt fill for @theajaheira from this ask meme: Lord Huron Lyric Prompts

Jaheira - "do you know what loneliness does to a man"

As I'm doing more often these days - didn't use the exact quote but let it inspire me and then modified a little to fit the story. Set about ten years pre-BG3. Caden is my Bhaalspawn PC from BG1/BG2. Hope you enjoy! c:

-----

Caden’s eyes drift half-open drowsily and he stares up at the ceiling of the guest room of Elerrathin’s Home. At first he’s not sure what woke him - perhaps one of Jaheira’s small horde of adopted children causing chaos downstairs - but then he hears it. A muted, rhythmic, slightly atonal whistling coming from the roof.

“D’you hear that?” he mumbles. Aerie, still sleeping peacefully at his side, doesn’t answer. After a moment’s hesitation, he gives in to his curiosity and slides carefully out from under the blanket so as not to wake his wife.

It’s a little hard to find the route upwards, presumably so the children don’t make use of it - a ladder carefully inset into the climbing vines along the upper floor’s rear balcony. (Plants among more plants - the balcony is strewn with pots of flowering buds, jars of dirt waiting for use, long planters with the stems of autumn vegetables just starting to poke into view. Like so much of Jaheira's house, it is a sanctuary of green amidst the dusty brown of the city streets.) Caden carefully avoids damaging any of the vines as he clambers up the ladder; his shoulder twinges with the unexpected exertion and he grunts. Gods, getting old, aren't you, boy?

Emerging onto the gentle slope of the roof, he blinks, for a moment dazzled by the brilliant orange of the sunrise against which the endless buildings of the Lower City are silhouetted. The fall air is crisp and cold and raises goosebumps on his skin as he steps out of the cozy warmth of the house below. 

Jaheira sits with her back to him on the edge of the rooftop, looking out to the west away from the sunrise and towards the grey sheet of the harbor not yet touched by the daylight. Her head is ducked slightly, and it takes him a moment to realize that the strange sounds are coming from her - she’s playing, very unsteadily, a simple tune on a small and very battered tin whistle. 

He moves softly, but she hears him anyway, and her head snaps up, turning to glance over her shoulder. She fists one hand tightly around the whistle, dropping it into her lap as if to hide it. “Ah. You’re awake, my friend,” she says.

He smiles. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just came up to listen.”

She snorts softly. “We have known each other long enough that there is no need for flattery, Caden.”

“I didn’t say I was listening because it was good.” He sticks his tongue out at her.

This elicits a soft laugh, and her shoulders relax slightly. “No, I should think not. I cannot quite get the touch for it, despite my efforts.” She lifts the whistle again and turns it slowly in her fingertips, watching as it catches a muted reflection of the slow-rising sunlight. “I do believe it is mocking me.”

He grins, moving to sit beside her so his legs dangle off the roof edge. “I’m sure someone in the city could teach you.”

“For coin and time - neither of which I have to spend on such frivolity,” she says wryly.

He raises an eyebrow. “Ah, right, you’re the High Harper now. No more fun and games, hm?”

“Just so.”

“There are those who would say we, of all people in the world, have earned a little frivolity,” he points out.

There’s a dash of humor in his voice, though, because he already knows the answer she will give him even before she speaks the words. So he’s not surprised when she shakes her head. “There is always yet more work to be done,” she murmurs. “For the city. For my children. Perhaps for the world, if it should have need of me again.”

Caden juts his lower lip out stubbornly. “If the world should have need of me again, someone can bloody well tell it that I'm not available for hire. And nor is Aerie. We've given enough.”

“You and Aerie have many happy years yet ahead; I would not take that from you,” Jaheira says quietly. 

A pause, and then she laughs again, but this time it is a somewhat darker sound, sardonic, self-deprecating.“But… ah, well. You see that this is what loneliness will do to a woman.” She gestures vaguely with the whistle. “She takes to brooding on rooftops and plotting self-sacrifice, and tormenting the local cat population with the squeaks of a whistle.”

Caden frowns. “Is that what you are?” he asks. “Lonely?” 

Her head jerks, her gaze flicking away out across the buildings around them. Then she smiles, and suddenly the moment passes, the tension in her face loosening. “We may call that a slip of the tongue,” she says mildly. “What time do I have to be alone, with that crop of rascals running about downstairs? Not to mention the Harpers under my command - who seem younger every year. And you, just now, as my guest.” She shakes her head. “No - I am not alone, and for that I am grateful.”

“Alone and lonely are not the same thing,” he says gently.

Again that flicker of a shadow crosses her face. “Do not press me on this, cub,” she says. “A slip of the tongue, no more.”

“Cub. You’re not really so much older than I am, you know,” he says dryly.

“Nonsense.” Her expression softens as she glances at him affectionately, and then she grins. “You were the first wayward child I ever raised, long before Rion.”

“I was twenty!” He laughs, nudging her gently in the shoulder. “But believe whatever you want.”

She smiles. Whatever dark thoughts led her to the rooftop seem to have passed, or at least burrowed themselves into better hiding; she tucks the whistle casually into a pocket and pushes herself to her feet. “Come. I will leave aside this travesty against melody, and let us go down to breakfast.”

[reve-writes]

—courtyard kisses. | hades game zagreus x reader.

he's trying to escape. again. you need to stop him. again.

IF IT WEREN'T FOR ZAGREUS, you wouldn't have to be posted at the House of Hades for most of the day—or night, you could never really tell in the Underworld. As much as you loved his company, Zagreus was always too stubborn for his own good. Now, his hard skull was fixated on escaping to the surface and many were already assigned by Lord Hades to do everything in their power to stop him.

“Ah, ___,” He greeted you as he dashed quickly into his bedroom, seeming slightly disheveled. You rolled your eyes, following him inside as he rinsed his face with the basin by his bedside.

“Pleasant trip?” You asked.

“As pleasant as the last twenty,” he replied, dabbing the water on his face dry with a towel. “I might go for the twenty-second trip.”

You collapsed on the quilted sofa in his room. “Seriously, Zag? Take the day off. I can't be bothered to fight you for the fifth time today.”

“This will be easier if you simply let me pass, my dear ___.” Zagreus leaned against the doorway to his courtyard, shooting a pleading look towards you.

“Stop looking at me like that. While you have no concerns with upsetting your father, some of us actually don't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.”

“Well, in that case.”

He immediately dashed out of his room and you peeled yourself off of the chair, running after him. When you reached the courtyard, he was still standing there by the railing with an amused look on his face.

You groaned in frustration, pushing him by the chest until his lower back was pressed against the balustrade. “Get back inside, Zag.”

Zagreus chuckled, combing his dark hair back with his fingers. You thought your heart skipped a beat. “And if I don't?”

You unsheathed one of your blades—one half of your double-ended sword and held it in front of you. “We've done this dance before. You know I don't want to hurt you.”

The two of you treated it as a normal sparring session, although usually Achilles would be there overseeing Zagreus' training. Usually, neither of you would actually be dead, as well. However, Zag's escape attempts had all turned regularity into chaos.

“Me neither.” Zag raised both of his hands up in surrender. You lowered your weapon, thinking that at least, for today, Zagreus would just stop running amok in the Underworld, but you underestimated how stubborn he was.

With a swift motion, he had knocked the short blade out of your hand and twisted his body around you, so now you were the one pressed against the balustrade. Your hands were clutching the top of the railing. His calloused hands covered yours, applying slight pressure to keep you in place. Your thighs were slotted in-between his. The lack of space was both suffocating and exhilarating at the same time.

“What are you doing?” You asked, trying to wriggle free. You couldn't move an inch without brushing against him.

He leaned forward and you felt his breath on your face. Instinctively, you leaned backwards, away from him. He smiled smugly. “What do you want me to be doing?”

A flush crept up your neck as his mismatched eyes bore into yours. It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss him. Blast. He was the Prince of the Underworld, dammit! You were not going to kiss him. You had known each other for most of your lives, anyway. It would be weird if—

“Let's make a deal, ___. I'll make sure Father doesn't know you're slacking on your guard duty.” He raised an eyebrow invitingly.

“You can't make sure of that,” you retorted, trying to push him off of you, but he didn't budge.

“He will be too busy being furious at me to care, ___. Moreover, do you really enjoy fighting me to death every time?” He emphasized his question with a frown.

You sighed, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. “You know I don't, Zag.”

He hummed. Zagreus tilted your chin up with one hand, forcing you to look at him. He's beautiful, you thought. The ambient dark lighting of the underworld framed him perfectly, showing off his sculpted jaw and brushing against his dark hair.

Like this, he only needed to say the word and you would be willing to do whatever he required of you.

“If I have to fight you one more blasted time, I may actually lose my mind,” he whispered. His free hand slid up your arm, to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair. While your heart was thumping so fast it could beat Hermes in a race, you held his gaze for one long moment, and then two.

“Okay, Zag,” you finally replied.

His eyes were unfocused, sliding down to stare at your lips. “Huh?”

“Let's make a deal,” you said. “I am frankly tired of fighting against you multiple times a day— Zag? Are you listening?”

“Can I kiss you?” He said that as if he was in a dream-like trance.

Did you mishear? Your eyes widened as his question registered and you subconsciously licked your lips.

“Stop kidding around, Zagreus.”

His different-coloured eyes shifted to stare into yours. He repeated the question once more, with the same stubborn look he would give you whenever you advised him against doing something.

“Can I kiss you, ___?”

The corners of your lips twitched upwards and you leaned forward, closing the gap between your lips. Your hands made their way up his chest to circle around his neck while he cradles your face, pressing his body against yours so impossibly close until all your senses were overpowered by him. You felt him everywhere on your skin. His taste lingered in your mouth. All you could hear was your own heartbeat and his gasps for breath.

His teeth caught your lower lip gently as he pulled away to trail kisses down your jaw to your neck. Your hands tangled in his hair as he pressed your body towards him.

“Zagreus,” you sighed out when he gave the juncture of your neck a tentative bite.

It felt like forever until the two of you broke apart with racing breaths. His thumb swiped at your lips as he reluctantly pulled away from you, while still keeping an arm around your waist. You smiled at him, brushing your hand through his hair to comb out the messiness.

“We should have done that sooner,” Zagreus said, chuckling.

“This is one of the rare occasions when I think you're absolutely right.”

Zagreus smoothed out your outfit as he finally let go of you. You tugged at his chiton to fix it as you stole another peck from him.

“Go show them, Zag. I'll be here when you return.”

[ ].