#<- at least I'm pretty sure this counts as that

[mediumgayitalian]

It was a bad idea from the start, really.

Will is very smug about it.

"I'm not," he insists, lying. He adjusts Nico's arm over his shoulder, breathing heavier with every step up the rocky hillside. "I'm just pointing out that it's very lucky you love someone who is right so often. Else you'd be dead."

His barely hidden smirk makes it a whole lot easier for Nico to be guilt-free about his current incapacitation. In fact, he cuts any effort at all, going completely limp. Will stumbles, damn near dropping him and sending them both tumbling back down into the sea, but manages, at the last second, to find his balance.

He's smug about that, too.

"You have the kind of arrogance they talk about in the Bible," Nico points out, as Will slides his arm under his legs and lifts. "Just saying."

"Do I."

"Mhm. Unchecked. Your father's son, truly."

"Oh, get fucked."

He's laughing as he says it, and Nico smiles, victorious. He swings his legs idly as Will labors, enjoying the sweat beading on his top lip and the shift of his muscles under his wandering hands.

"You know, I landed us pretty good for being near-death."

"You landed us in an underwater cave eight feet from the surface," Will says drily. He pauses, flash of warmth blooming under his palms, then shakes his head in exasperation and keeps hiking. "And you're nowhere near death, you man-baby."

"I'm dying."

"You have a couple scrapes and hay fever."

"I can see the light!"

"Bold of you to assume you're making it to the pearly gates."

Nico pauses. "Okay, point to Will." Will grins. Nico pinches him to teach him humility. "Onwards, servant. And in silence as your panting and human distress bothers me."

Will rolls his eyes again, but he suffers from Finding Nico Funny Disorder and also kind of Enjoying Being Ordered Around Not That He'll Admit It Syndrome, so Nico suffers no consequences. Instead, he inspects the countryside, humming along to the beat of Will's elevated heart.

In terms of places Nico has been stranded, this place is pretty good.

It's warm, for starters. A balmy seventy-seven to eighty, if he had to hazard a guess. The sun is out but it's a little cloudy, so it's not too awful, and if Nico had to haul both another person and two backpacks worth of overpacking he's sure he would be much less pleased about the light humidity, but as it is he is not, and he doesn't mind. The wind from the ocean -- channel, rather -- undercuts it nicely, anyway, and it smells like saltwater and pine needles.

"Are we out west?" Will asks, puffing a little. Nico refrains from making a comment about keeping in shape but it is a close thing. "Don't see pines like these back home much."

Nico hums, looking up at the forest. It's true -- among the many indistinguishable conifers peppering the wet soil are strange, sparse pine trees with trunks that seem almost cartoonish, geometrical. Like an exaggerated idea of a pine tree rather than a real one.

"Hold on. Lemme down, I can check."

"Nah. Let's get somewhere level first, okay?" He squeezes, gently, pressing a kiss to Nico's temple. "You're still a little wheezy," he murmurs, which is rich coming from someone who has not caught his breath for the last twenty minutes at minimum. "You can frolic about like the little GPS you are when you've had a minute to get your bearings."

Nico scowls and refuses to acknowledge the care in the action. He is not a GPS and it is disrespectful to refer to him as such. It would be akin to him calling Will a glowstick.

"Which you do," drawls Will. "On the daily."

"Yeah, but you're cute when you're mad," Nico argues. The comment, predictably, has Will's freckles flashing, and Nico grins. "See?"

"You're intolerable."

"Hm. Four years and counting, though."

"Yeah, yeah."

The incline steepens and Will's breathing steepens with it. Nico can hear the extra effort in his chest, in his pounding heart, and squeezes his shoulders. He teases, but Will has hiked them both a mile at least -- on a steep incline, too, trying to navigate the shifting rock and soil. And he's tired, and he dragged them both up from the water, and there -- there's another couple hundred feet until the hill slopes off, at least. Will takes a moment to catch his breath and Nico brushes the hair off his sweaty forehead.

"Almost there," he says quietly. "Almost there, and we can rest for a bit."

Will nods, and pushes forward. There is that look in his eye, familiar; eyes clouded and distance and face wiped totally smooth. The same face he gets when the infirmary gets a touch too crowded and he reaches, on long-dead instinct, for the helping hand of a sibling that isn't there, and shuts down. The same face he gets when someone peels a boiled egg and the smell of sulfur drags him down, the same face he gets when he wakes himself up half past three in the morning and grits his teeth through the screaming so he doesn't wake anybody up. The same face he gets when he is hurting, when he is tired, but there are others hurting worse, and he forgets. And he forces it away.

Nico hates it. He always has.

But Will is his own person, and he is strong. And there are hardly fifty feet left until they can rest.

They crest the top of the hill -- cliffside, really -- and Will makes no grand heaving, does not drop him. He sets him, gently, on the yellowed grass, and sets his bags down next, arranging them carefully so they hold their own weight. He straightens slowly and holds himself stiffly.

"Will," Nico says softly. "Come sit."

Will works his jaw. "Gimme a minute."

Nico nods, and watches him. He can almost picture the chanting he is doing in his head, trying to release the tension manually, trying to coach himself through the haziness. Trying to bring himself back, like Mr. D. taught him. There is nothing Nico can do, to fish him out of his own head, to drag him out of the place he goes and sits when things are too hard. The place where he used to live, unbidden to everyone. Where he would lose time by the months and resurface with a plastic smile and a practiced laugh and hands clenched so tightly the tendons are worn like old guitar strings.

He sighs, and slumps forward. Nico watches him sway, carefully, hands poised to dart out. But he gathers himself, eyes gently shut, and makes his careful way to the ground next to Nico. Nico places a hand between his shoulder blades.

"You with me?"

He nods. "Yeah." He leans back into the cool relief of Nico's hand, knocking their knees together. "Yeah, I'm with you."

"Good."

It's beautiful, from this height.

However high up they are -- Nico doesn't bother estimating -- they can see out for miles, nothing but ocean and forest as far as the eye can glean. The water is peppered with dozens of other islands, some bigger than others, and the yellowed sun shines in gentle brushstrokes through the woolen clouds, tiny beams of light piercing their way through and onto spotted cliffsides. Chittering coastal birds chase crabs along the rocky beach, and farther in the waves, Nico can see the coasting fins of a group of orcas. He tilts his head, curious, and when he feels his lungs are full enough, and his eyesight is clear and steady, he exhales, long and slow, and rests his hands spread and flat on the soil, searching. He extends his feeling as far as it will go down and outward, feeling Will's life forcing flickering -- tired but strong -- to his right, and millions of other creatures in the ground beneath them. He lets their noise fade and swell and wash over him, like the blending conversations of a large crowd, and tries to follow the waves of seismic energy as they shift and ebb beneath him, rumbling a conversation with connected plates all throughout the Earth.

"BC," he murmurs, blinking his eyes open. Will watches him, head propped on his bent knee. "Canada. Uh, Haida Gwaii, I think."

Will blinks. "Really?"

Nico nods. "Pretty sure." He is not expecting the slow, teasing smile that spreads over Will's face, and he is suspicious of it. He narrows his eyes. "What."

"Oh, nothing."

"Do not lie to me, William Andrew."

"Nothing! I mean it." He pauses. "I was just wondering --"

"Oh, here we go."

"-- it must be the dyslexia, I guess --"

"-- do you ever stop talking --"

"I mean, BC, NY, practically the same thing --"

"I hope you get eaten by a bear. Genuinely."

"-- easy mistake." Will grins. Nico scowls. "Anyone would make it, I'm sure."

"I was drained, you irritating jackass."

"Of course, of course. That totally explains why you shadow travelled us four thousand miles in the wrong direction."

"It's not -- four thousand miles, you dickhead." Nico pauses. "Fuck, is it?"

Will shrugs. "More or less. We're on the literal opposite point of the continent."

"Well." Nico blinks, staring back out the coast. "Shit."

"S'okay." Will stands, brushing off his shorts. "Let's keep moving."

Nico bites his tongue-- Will knows himself. He pushes himself, too, but he's smarter than to leave them both incapacitated. He holds out a hand, and Nico takes it, pulling himself to his shaky feet. He holds up a hand when Will tries to lift him again, and Will sighs, but falls into step beside him, hovering.

The hike is a helluva lot easier when they are not travelling eighty degrees upright. Will leads them into the dense forest and Nico lets him, making a face at the mugginess and the mosquitoes he can already feel but trusting Will's judgement regardless. If he gets malaria, it will be Will's problem, anyway.

"You are such a goddamn drama queen."

"Your fault. I used to be cool and traumatized."

"It's really cute that you genuinely believe that."

"Shut the fuck up."

Will snickers, but does. Probably less because Nico told him to and more because his dumb ass was not looking where he was going and almost walked into a tree, but that's none of Nico's business. He'll just remember the moment for eternity and bring it up next time Will tells him he should spend more time calibrating himself with nature.

They walk for a long time. A couple hours, at least, but Will packed six different water bottles, something Nico did indeed mock him for when they left ("It's a two-day quest, Will, I promise there will be a fucking water bottle available for purchase in Delaware." "Sure, go ahead, trust Delaware and see where that gets you.") but now tastefully pretends is not the case. The granola bars he stuffed in there are the nutritionally bereft but delicious ones from Costco, and they are melted to shit and waterlogged, but they're good anyway. Will tries and fails to ration them. Nico is faster. Plus, they'll…hunt, or something. Probably.

"I have never hunted a single thing in my life and you haven't either, nature boy, but sure, whatever. Let's Bear Grylls this thing."

Nico primly ignores his gripes. Will gets grouchy when he gets anxious, it's fine. He also happens to be very attractive when he is grouchy and Nico happens to be very attracted to him, so these things have a way of working themselves out. Especially because Will has a very sensitive spot on the side of his neck that he isn't quite aware that he has, so as soon as Nico gets close enough to lovingly and perhaps a touch hungrily also bite him he will be fine. Well, he will be goo, but that works. Nico can handle him when he is goo.

"Stop looking at me like you're going to eat me. You know it freaks me out."

It doesn't freak him out. It makes his whole face very hot and his brain kind of non-functional. But Nico is loving and benevolent and refrains from pointing this out.

"We should stop and eat, then."

"You just had fourteen granola bars!"

"Yeah, like an hour ago."

Will reaches out and pretends to strangle him. Nico darts out and grabs one of his hands, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Will melts at the speed of sound.

"What -- okay, whatever. What Ever, okay. Fine."

He tosses his backpacks -- actually tosses, Christ, someone get this boy a BFA -- and sits heavily on the forest floor, ears burning. Nico looks at the mud and pine needles, wrinkles his nose, and sits delicately on Will's lap. This does nothing for him in the embarrassment slash flusteredness slash superhots he has for Nico, but it does have the added benefit of immediate physical affection and a solid weight in his lap, so his breathing calms. He tilts his face forward until his head is tucked between the space of Nico's neck and his shoulder. Nico reaches up, sliding a hand through his damp curls.

"Check-in," he says quietly.

"Buzzy," Will admits. "Tired. But -- fine."

Nico nods. He cards his hand more regularly through his boyfriend's hair, shifting so Will is slumped against him, and both elbows rest on his broad shoulders; he spends extra time on all the knots, untangling them gently and flicking the shedding strands to the side. He pushes his fringe off his forehead and, when Will doesn't stop him, starts to weave the sections into braids, splitting his hair down the middle of his scalp. He ties both ends off with one of the several elastics on his wrist and grins at the dandelion-pouf of the short strands. He kisses the crown of his head.

"You're cute as hell, you know that?"

"Bleh."

"Don't bleh me. I am the Prince of Hell. I would know." "Whatever, nerd." Will straightens slightly, leaning back against a tree trunk and adjusting Nico's weight. "Your turn. You good?"

"A little wheezy," Nico tells him. "Not that you were right or anything but the quest could maybe have waited until I was not contagious."

"Yeah. Damn, I wish someone would have told you that."

"Oh, can it, Mr. I Can Still Run My Infirmary With A Broken Spine."

"I mean. I could. I did, actually, and it went pretty well."

"You literally almost permanently paralyzed yourself."

"But I didn't! So there." Nico kisses him quiet, because sometimes he actually wants to shake the hypocrisy out of him. The way Will grins, cheeky, into the kiss tells him that he is aware and this was the goal. Fucker.

"I think this is a good spot," Will murmurs, sighing into Nico's mouth. Nico occupies his lips for a little bit longer, kissing every time he opens them to speak -- there are many benefits to dating a virus-immune doctor -- but moves, eventually and mournfully, onto the corner of his mouth, his jaw. His neck. It is a little bit unfair in terms of letting him focus but Will smells like salt and lavender still, somehow, and he looks good surrounded in browns and greens. "For the night, I mean."

"It's maybe two in the afternoon, Solace."

"Well, you need a nap. And I don't want to set up camp twice."

Nico pulls off, shrugging. He has a feeling you need a nap is code for if I don't sleep in the next ten minutes I am going out pass out on the floor. It has been before.

"Works for me."

Together they unpack the entirety of Will's bags. There's a lot of shit in there -- more than Nico assumed could actually fit in any kind of logical space -- and chief among it two bedrolls, a couple blankets, a tarp, some rations (that are not candy-stick granola bars that Nico shoved in there last minute) and, even, some fishing hooks and line. And, of course, more medical supplies than what probably exists on the entire island.

"You can never be too prepared," Will says primly, when Nico bites the corner of his mouth.

"You have leukemia medication," Nico points out.

"Well. Who knows."

"…Right."

Patting his neurotic boyfriend lovingly yet condescendingly on the forehead, which is somewhat of a challenge since he is distantly related to the Yeti or perhaps Godzilla, Nico grabs the tarp and some paracord string and leaves in search of some good branches. Will sings, high and clear, and Nico uses it as his version of Ariadne's string -- he never goes far enough that he can't hear the words, or the pout in his voice when he misses a note. He sings something ridiculous about a small-town judge and a murder plot, twangy and over-the-top and old, no doubt, and Nico smiles, piling the branches in his hands.

Will is convinced he can't sing -- and maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't see the world in quarter notes like his mother, or hear a jazz solo in a creaky door jamb like his prodigy brother. Maybe the birds don't stop when he hums and maybe his guitar is always a little flat. But his voice is rumbly, and curls in the air like camp smoke. And he knows more songs than any other soul living or dead, and when he hums something he made up about the sound of the wind against bending flower petals it warms you, from deep in your stomach. When he makes up a tune to put behind the most famous Italian sonnets or forgets the real tune of a rock song he heard in the back of a tour van ten years ago, Nico's breaths all taste a little sweeter. When his voice gets reedy and pleading and he pants next to Nico's ear, in warm, early mornings, he feels like he's drunk off sound alone.

He likes Will's voice.

He comes back with enough sturdy branches for a lean-to the Hunters would be jealous of, and Will smiles when he sees him. He doesn't stop singing, maybe because he's trying to keep himself awake, maybe because he knows Nico likes it, even though it turns up his vowels in a shy kind of way. Maybe both, or neither. Either way Nico joins him, humming a halfway decent harmony, and hands him the branches one by one, lingering whenever he can at the brush of their equally roughened fingers.

"'Kay," Will says, or sighs. "'S good as it's gonna get, I think."

It's a cute little tent, honestly. There's not a lot of space and once upon a time Nico would have chafed at the thought of it, whether he liked Will or not. A person needs their distance.

But he doesn't, really. Need distance from Will. Maybe he did, before they learned each other. Before they fell into depths unseen and struggled their way back up, before Will helped him angry and hurting, before Nico helped him quiet and blank. Before they learned each other's silences and sacrifices, before Nico knew what it meant to sit next to someone and exist on the same wavelength, in different spaces. Before he knew what it meant to share the same air.

They're codependant, a little.

Nico likes depending on him.

Will squeezes his hand. Nico squeezes back, and together they spread out their bedrolls, pushing them next to each other, and configure themselves around the balance of sticks and corded twine, of tired knees and aching backs. Nico fits his arms around Will's waist and his leg between his thighs, his forehead to the dip in his back and his breathing matching every inhale, every exhale. Will rests a too-warm palm on his wrist and sags into him, exhausted, and together they lay, still and sticky and warm, and it's a little uncomfortable. But it's good, too.

"It'll take you a couple days to get your strength back," Will says softly. "There are a lot of bears in BC."

"I have a sword," Nico points out.

"They're endangered."

"Hm."

"We have one drachma."

"Just the one?"

"Yeah."

"Shit."

Nico curls tighter into him. He can tell, without looking, that he has his eyes squeezed shut -- guilty. As if Nico remembered to pack any emergency drachmas or medical supplies or anything outside of granola bars that are 92% chocolate.

"You're not worried about bears."

"No."

"I don't think the eidola followed us from Delaware, sweetheart."

"…Me either." He swallows. "Lotta weird shit in a lotta weird places, though."

Nico hums. He's right. Of all their quests and visits to Will's mother and errands and dates, they've been left unbothered maybe seven total times. Nico doesn't have great luck, and Will is some kind of homing beacon. They never go long without some motherfucker ruining things.

…Nico has a feeling, though.

A good one. For the first time in a while.

"I think we'll be okay," he says, carefully. "I can't promise and I don't know for sure. But I'm not -- I'm a little weak, Will, but I'm not that sick. And you're tired, but you're capable." He punctuates the statement with a firm kiss on the back of Will's neck, anticipating his shaking head. "I think you're right to save it. But you can sleep, and we'll be fine."

There is a lot of shit coiled up in Will's head. Years worth of baggage Nico will never untangle in a day, in a month, in four years. It will take him a lifetime.

But he's gotten pretty good at helping Will wade through it, he thinks.

"Yeah," Will sighs, loosening. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right." He brings Nico's hand up to his mouth, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to his wrist. "We'll stay here for a bit. Three days, at least, it'll take you that long to come back to normal strength."

Protest stirs its way up Nico's chest, but he swallows it back. It won't kill him to wait it out. They have supplies. It will be nice, not to get back to camp exhausted.

Plus, he and Will…

Well, they could maybe use a break, in the wilderness, where no one can bother them.

"We'll IM if we get desperate. We're not too far from New Rome, anyway." Will yawns. Nico squeezes around his waist, and he leans back fondly. "Don't let me sleep longer than an hour, okay? I wanna scope out the place a little more before sundown."

Nico nods, and Will exhales, and in minutes he's out. Nico has always been jealous of his ability to just drop anywhere, in minutes; he could sleep standing up on one foot on the peak of Mount Everest. But now it only makes him smile, and he presses the curl of his lips to Will's warm skin, breathing in the smell of him. It's indistinguishable, almost, from the general outdoorsyness around them, and Nico takes the careful time to memorize it. To memorize it, and them, and the shape of Will in his arms.

He looks out over Will's shoulder and carefully counts the minutes.

-- -- --

next

[eileenrry]

CH.1 A KISS from WE CAN TRY series pairing: Uni/Roommate/Best Friend!Harry x Fem!Reader summary: Harry has an unique lifestyle and you're his sweet innocent best friend. word count: 5.9K contains: FLUFF, description of sex, feelings, kissing (obviously lol) a/n: First chapter of my new series WE CAN TRY! I worked on this one way too long (maybe a month even) so I hope it'll be worthy, and that also another chapters will come sooner. Mid writing, I realized this trope is crashing a little with my ROOMMATES one shot but whatever, we all love roommate/uni!harry ;D A HUGE THANKS goes to each of you that reached out and showed me and my writings your love! It really pushed me and made me keep going. I'm forever grateful for this sweet community. Would be grateful for any feedback, ideas, anything! My dms are opened always. All my love, E

“Ahhh, oh my god, Harry! So good!”

A high-pitched voice echoed through the apartment, repeating his name like a mantra, until it melted into something almost sacred, less like lust and more like worship, a breathless prayer wrapped in need. From what you could hear, which was almost everything, Harry was undoubtedly good. Too good maybe. The kind of good that turned otherwise sane, put-together girls into a mess of tangled limbs, and desperate cries.

The old, squeaky bed frame gave out its usual protest, rhythmic and sharp thuds against the wall, punctuated by a wet, obscene slick of bodies moving in unison and his guttural grunts. It all added to the soundtrack of his filthy and flawless performance.

”I’m close, I’m so close!”

Harry was a man who knew how to use his hands. He knew the language of touch like the back of his hand, the map of a woman's skin. He traced every curve like he was fluent in desire, knew exactly where to dip and press, when to graze and when to grip. His fingers were long, and sure, curled in just the right places, showing the kind of precision he learned over the years. And his mouth? Absolutely filthy. He knew exactly what to say, when to say it, and how to say it so it hit the soul and the clit in equal measure. The dirty sweet nothings that made legs buckle and throats dry. He didn’t just make his lovers moan, he made them cry out, scream until it echoed into the early morning. Girls loved him. Craved him. Needed him.

It wasn’t just the way he looked. His golden skin covered in tattoos like a piece of forgotten art, sleepy green eyes that saw everything yet gave away nothing, the lazy, deliberate way he moved like he had all the time in the world. It was much more than that. He was effortless chaos wrapped in wild charm and just enough danger to make him irresistible.

“Harry!”

There wasn’t a week that passed without at least one night like this with Harry’s latest pretty things over until the sun came up. And oh boy, they were completely wrecked. Moving on shaky legs with tousled hair and smudged mascara, with clothes crumpled from their quick ministrations the night before and now clinging on their frames in all the wrong ways. Some tried to linger, trying to catch Harry like a fish on the idea of breakfast and potentially something more. But most barely managed to whisper a shaky goodbye and slip out of the door, especially after you stepped into the kitchen in your mismatched pyjamas and with sleepy eyes, immediately enveloped by Harry's strong frame from behind and his usual ‘How did y’sleep, sweetheart?’ in a British accent mumbled in your ear.

That was the moment every girl lost it. Every. Single. Time.

“Fuck, that was- ugh amazing, fuck! The best I ever had!”

Harry was a walking sex. A living, breathing wet dream that the entire campus, hell the entire university, dreamed about. Whenever he strolled through the crowded hallways with his arm draped casually around your shoulders, heads turned. Girls, younger or older, even some professors, cast looks your way, their jealousy written across their faces.

Because no matter how many girls he made scream and come undone not only on his fingers, at the end of the day, it was you he came home to. You, he wrapped those strong arms around in the quiet moments. You, he crashed next to at 2AM, slipping into your bed like it was his own after whatever girl had left or passed out in his. He’d curl into your warmth, still all sweaty from his night ‘workout’. It felt like the only place he truly belonged to, knowing you’d always let him and pull him close. His sweet best friend, the one he let himself be soft for, let himself be seen. Though he’d never admit that to anyone.

“You’re so good Harry…”

Harry stirred something primal in people - respect, arousal, intrigue, the kind of attention that clung to him without effort. He wasn’t the bad guy stereotype, quite far from it. He didn’t break hearts just to watch them shatter into little pieces. But he wasn’t boyfriend material, nor the guy you proudly brought home to meet your parents either. He was sharp-edged and wild-hearted. Unruly in a way that made you want to unravel beside him.

And even while he might have had a reputation for ruining girls in his bed, he was a gentleman. Never treated women like they were a doormat, never made them feel small unless they begged for it. The degradation he gave was wrapped in silk and whispered with affection and real care deep down. In everyday life, Harry was the opposite of cruel. In fact, he loved women. Admired them, respected their power and softness.

For him, there was simply something about wild and untethered nights without any promises, words of love and feelings involved. Just skin against skin, girl’s moanings and pleasure for pleasure’s sake. Harry easily slipped into this lifestyle, feeding on physical hunger without the need to understand the heart behind it all. Intense but shallow, passionate but uncommitted.

He was simple in the most complex of ways. A man of appetite and need. If something was freely offered, he never turned it down. Especially, when it meant getting his mouth on a pretty girl, drowning in her scent and juices and losing himself in the softness of her thighs. He loved it. The way they moaned his name, the whimpers, the gasping cries. Every sound they made was breathy and pure ecstasy, and it stroked his ego just right.

“Mhm, see you around then?”

But those nights were only momentary. A flash of heat, pure bliss and marks on the skin that in no time turned into a dusty memory. For others, a brief stint in his orbit. But none of them lasted. None of them mattered.It was always you. You, who he trusted with his whole life. You, who came back to, again and again, no matter who had warmed his bed before. It was always you.

You’d known Harry long before he became the person he is now. That lanky boy with big dimples, ruffled hair and a habit of chewing the pencil he’d stolen from you during lectures. Back then, he wasn’t the guy who made girls lose their minds. He was sweet and funny, awkward too, until he found cocky confidence over the years. And the rest? Mostly stayed the same.

His skin gradually adored more tattoos, more poems written in ink. His wardrobe shifted into something bolder, more distinctive, more him. He started putting more effort into his appearance - his hair, shaving, whatever it is boys do, and began carrying himself like he knew exactly how magnetic he’d become. You watched him change like a flower in bloom, mesmerized by nature’s own art.

The first time you met was in high school. He’d been running late, and the only empty seat left was next to you. And somewhere between stolen pencils and library study sessions that turned into other kinds of conversations, the two of you, in some strange way, became best friends. The kind of best friends who know each other’s coffee orders, wear each other’s sweaters (especially Harry, your big pink one), who fall asleep on the couch with tangled limbs like it’s the most normal thing in the world. One would think it’s quite a simple recipe for such a strong friendship.

Yet through all the years, you haven’t even once let in your mind the thought of you and your best friend crossing the line into something romantic. Not seriously, anyway. Not in a way you let yourself feel. Not even when his voice drifted through the paper walls in your ear every other night like a lullaby, moaning low and deep, mixed with someone else’s breathless gasps.

You never found your place in his bedsheets like the other girls did. You’ve never been a part of that rollercoaster of flings and one-night stands. He never really said it out loud, but you were such a precious creature to him.

Because out of all the girls on campus, why would Harry choose you?

You only knew the basics of sex from high school biology lessons, where Harry spent more time teasing and flustering you than anything else, and the blurry pictures on textbook pages told you nothing. You giggled through poorly shot porn at sleepovers with your friends, watching out of curiosity more than desire. You didn’t know much. How to touch, or move, or arch your back like the girls in those videos. You weren’t like the kind of girls Harry usually found for his (un)usual company.You were just and only his best friend! His safe space. The one he came home to, unafraid to spill his insecurities. The one he rambled to about professors and whined at when you tried to make him study. The one he let see his worst moods and softest moments. That’s who you were to him. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was another Friday. Lectures were done for the day, schoolwork pushed out of the sight, and casual clothes were swapped for pyjamas and worn-in sweatpants, which could only mean one thing. A movie night.

It has become an unspoken tradition over the years. Every Friday night, without fail, the two of you fell into the same rhythm. You ordered pizza or takeout, argued for a good fifteen minutes over which cheesy movie to put on, only to settle for an old classic or something completely ridiculous, and curled up together on the couch. Limbs tangled beneath a shared blanket, your head resting somewhere on Harry’s chest or shoulder meanwhile his fingers lazily traced patterns on your arm as you talked about everything and nothing. Sometimes, you get deep in the hole of philosophical questions. Other nights, you let yourselves get lost in the memories.

It was sacred. Something that was only yours and his. The only night where time slowed down and the weight of reality was lighter than a feather. Just you and Harry, a movie, and your shared apartment. Whenever things got hard, exams and pointless arguments, this night steadied you. It let you find the ground again or reach the clouds. It soothed you, melting all the tension from your shoulder until it all turned into oxygen you craved. It was the calm between chaos of your ordinary lives, where you let yourselves simply be.

“Where’s the pizza? I think I’m gonna die from hunger!” You groaned, throwing yourself dramatically onto the couch, sinking into the pile of pillows and blankets you’d prepared for the night. Everything was ready for your cuddles and chats, except for the food. Harry was on food duty tonight, and it felt like an eternity since he’d called in your usual orders from your favorite pizzeria.

“Oh no! We can’t have that, can we?” Harry’s laugh echoed from his bedroom. And a second later, he appeared in the doorway, already changed into grey sweatpants that hung too dangerously low on his hips and an old, worn band shirt he bought on the first concert you two went to together. Every time you’ve seen him in it, pleasant memories flew through your mind.

“Soon, sweetheart” He promised with his typical boyish grin, ruffling your already messy hair in passing. You whined in reaction and (unsuccessfully) tried to swat his hand away, only making him chuckle as he wandered into the kitchen to grab something cold to drink from the fridge.

Your gaze lingered on him a second longer than you intended, than you realized. You watched his muscles flex beneath the soft fabric of his shirt as he stretched up to grab two glasses from the cabinet. It was almost ridiculous how effortlessly attractive he was and how oblivious he seemed to it sometimes. Or maybe he just liked pretending he didn’t notice the way your eyes followed him whenever you thought he wasn’t looking.

“You’re staring again, baby” Harry mused, the teasing tone in his voice obvious even without him turning around to look at you. He poured himself a drink, and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew he had that cocky little smirk plastered on his lips.

“Am not!” Your cheeks flushed instantly, betraying your lie before you even realised it, and you pulled the blanket up to your chin as if it could somehow shield you from reality.

“Whatever you say” There was the typical flirtatious glint in the wink he sent your way before he plopped down on the couch beside you, handing you one of the full glasses of soda with a cheeky grin. Harry sprawled across the couch like the whole world belonged to him, his feet propped on the edge of the coffee table and his arm immediately found its way around you in a casual side hug. He loved having you close.

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the occasional buzz of your phones and the faint hum of the city outside the open windows. It was moments like this that made you forget about everything else and left only the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You know,…” Harry began after a long stretch of quiet, his voice lower, more serious, “these nights, they are actually the best part of my week.”

You blinked a few times, trying to process his words, caught off guard by the rare burst of raw honesty.

“You tried smoking weed again or something?” You teased him with a sarcastic chuckle, trying to mask how much his confession was actually making your heart race.

Harry laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and shook his head. “No, no, sweetheart, I’m staying loyal to cigarettes,” He swore, grinning at the memory of his disastrous first and only attempt at getting high. “I’m serious. It’s just…easy with you. Don’t have to think too much. Don’t have to pretend. Don’t have to try so hard for you…”

Your chest tightened with every word, your heart thudding against your ribs. You didn’t know where this was coming from, but you were so grateful for hearing it. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in your throat. And then, like if everything was against you or wanted to actually save you, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it! You start looking for the movie, okay?” Harry said, pointing at you with a playful wag of his finger before peeling his arm away from around your shoulders. The sudden loss of his warmth made you shiver, and you instinctively curled tighter into the blanket as he pushed himself off the couch.

You watched him disappear in the hallway, listening to the low murmur of his voice at the door a moment later. Laughter, easy small talk, a generous tip handed over without a second thought, and then the soft thud of the door closing and locking again, sealing your little bubble safely back up.

“My savior!” You sang loudly, throwing your arms wide open as Harry walked back, the unmistakable scent of cheese and Italian seasoning trailing behind him. Your stomach growled on cue, the smell making you realize just how hungry you really were.

Harry chuckled at your reaction, holding the pizza box just out of your reach in an attempt to tease (and frustrate you) a little more. “Patience, sweets”

You grabbed the box greedily when he finally gave in, your fingers brushing against his briefly, but neither of you seemed to notice, or just didn’t think of mentioning it. You were too busy setting your boxes down on the coffee table, flipping them open to reveal the glorious sight of melted cheese, golden crust and your favorite topping scattered across.

“What’s that?” Harry mumbled with a mouth full of pizza, nodding towards the TV where you’d already picked the movie for the night. You’d seen most of what Netflix had to offer by now, but this particular one caught your attention. It was a movie from last year, still relatively fresh and new, tagged under romantic comedies. Harry loved to protest whenever you picked a romcom, but secretly? He was way too into it.

“Some new romcom. The description sounded fun. C’mon!” A small pout from you was all it took for him to be fully convinced, and with a dramatic sigh and mumbled ‘fine’, he pressed play on the remote.

You were about halfway through the movie when things started to shift. Your pizzas were almost gone, drinks were finished, and you were snuggled beneath Harry’s arm, his fingers occasionally toying with the strap of your tank top or tracing idle patterns on your skin.

You’d been surprisingly quiet, fully absorbed in the storyline. Now and then, one of you would make a comment that would send the other into a fit of laughter, but otherwise, you were both content and cozy.

Until a particular steamy scene started.

Harry’s attention drifted from the screen solely on you. He noticed the way you whimpered softly under your breath, the way your thighs pressed together just slightly, searching for some sort of friction. That your fingers grew restless and your body curled a little closer into his.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl?” Harry murmured into your hair, his hand giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, coaxing a response.

A man was kissing his lover. His fingers traced her curves with precise touch, mouth claiming hers in a kiss that made her moan quietly. After months of pinning, he was finally getting a taste of her lips.

“Nothing,” You said quickly, shaking your head and sitting up straighter, trying to get your body back under control. 

You were hoping he’d let it go. But he never did. His eyes stayed on you, quietly observing the way you stared a little too intently at the screen, pretending like none of this was affecting you.

“It’s clearly something” He murmured near your ear, his voice soft, warm, but with the edge that made your stomach twist. He wasn’t teasing, like you would’ve expected. There was no mockery in his tone, just quiet curiosity. “C’mon.”

“Just uh… It’s just the movie” You said, too fast, too light. There was a beat of silence. Then another. You cleared your throat, trying again, this time slower, with a more steady voice. “It’s nothing.”

Harry didn’t respond right away. He didn’t challenge you or call you out. Instead, his fingers resumed their soft tracing along your skin, gentle and grounding. It was patient, soothing, like an offer to breathe, to take your time.

He was quiet about it. Like he was registering every small reaction - every shift, every unsteady breath, every way your body leaned just a little closer without even realizing it.

Not to push. Not to rush. But to understand. Like he already knew what was going on, and he was just waiting for you to catch up. Open up.

“Why can’t I have this too?” You whispered, the ache in your voice unmistakable. You longed for that kind of connection. The late-night kisses that would leave you breathless, the hickeys you’d struggle to hide, the kind of touch that turned your stomach inside out. The intimacy. The sex.

Harry shifted beside you, his hand gliding up into your hair. He began twirling a strand gently between his fingers, his nails lightly scratching your scalp in that way he knew calms you down. He hated when you started spiraling like this and got too deep in your own head.

“What do you mean?”

“I just… I want someone to kiss me like this too. To touch me. To love me.” A long sigh escaped you, as if the admission had been sitting on your chest for too long.

“You should have that all. You deserve it, baby. Every. Single. Bit.” He said finally, his voice steady and sure. There was no trace of pity or sugarcoated empty words meant to soothe. Just the truth. Simple, quiet, firm. Said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry never understood how no one had seen you for what you truly were. How they could pass you by without even stopping, like if you weren’t something extraordinary.

You were sweet in the most effortless way, stunning even when your hair was a mess and your face was clean of makeup. You didn’t need to be polished or perfect, there was something real and raw that made you simply glow. You were like a walking angel. So pure and innocent.

Your kindness was performative. It was stitched deep in your bones. You’d drop everything if it meant helping someone else stand a little taller. And you were absolutely brilliant. So incredibly smart it sometimes left him speechless. Honestly, he didn’t know where he’d be without you. Lost, probably.

“I just want to finally have my first kiss…” You murmured, the words slipping out in a soft, wistful whine, like a little girl dreaming of her Barbie dream house.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, only thick with thought, stretched between you softly. Your attention drifted back to the movie playing on the screen, though the images blurred in your mind, your mind occupied the you'd just let slip.

“Would it be that bad of an idea?” You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You tilted your head, resting your chin on his broad shoulder, eyes flicking up to catch his reaction.

The steamy scene continued, oblivious to the shift in atmosphere. On-screen, the woman gasped each time her lover’s lips pressed against her skin with devotion, marking her as his own. The soft moans and rustle of sheets played like a soundtrack to your heartbeat.

Harry turned his head toward you slowly, his face lacking in emotion. Blank like a love letter that awaited to be written. Not cold, but impossible to make out either. He reached up and gently tucked a stray of your hair behind your ear with so much care, it made your chest tighten.

“You know I would do anything for you”

The words left his mouth without hesitation, steady and sincere, like he’d known the answer before you’d even asked.

“Yeah?” You breathed out, almost afraid to believe it.

“Of course. But uh…” He stuttered, his thumb tracing soft, slow strokes across your cheek. The motion made your eyes flutter, your body leaning instinctively in his touch like a kitten starved for affection. If you could purr, you would start immediately within a second right in his hands. “Do you want it to be me, baby?”

Your throat tightened, but your words came out anyway, trembling yet honest. “You’re better than anyone else.”

It scared you how true it was. How badly you meant it. Because the only thing worse than wanting him to kiss you was the thought of losing him.

“Okay, okay. We can try then… C’mere.”

Harry’s British accent broke the heavy hush in the room, grounding you, welcoming you, telling you that you’re safe with him.

“Um… like- like on your lap?” You asked in a whisper, the words catching awkwardly on your tongue. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, a little too hard, almost enough to draw blood, as you straightened up in his arms again. Everything inside you buzzed with nerves and anticipation. Your limbs felt foreign, like they weren’t entirely yours anymore, like they hadn’t adapted yet.

Harry let out a soft puff of laughter through his nose, not in a mocking way, just warm and genuinely amused. “Yeah, silly girl.” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ve sat in my lap before. C’mon, it’s okay.”

You hesitated for a moment, just long enough to let your nerves crawl under your skin like a static, but Harry’s touch on you was steadying, grounding you. He slid his free around your waist, giving it the softest squeeze. A quiet, wordless promise.

You shifted slowly from your place, climbing into his lap like a muscle memory. Like all these years before in drunk slumbers and laughter, only this time there was humming something else beneath your skin than alcohol.

It felt almost clumsy at first, awkward in the most achingly human way. Your knees bracketed either side of his hips, and your hands instinctively found his chest, steadying yourself as your palms met the heat of his skin through the thin cotton of his shirt, his heartbeat strong beneath your touch, rhythmic and calm. And Harry didn’t rush you. He didn’t tease. He just held you patiently and tightly, like if you weren’t toeing the edge of something so fragile.

“See? Nothing to be scared of with me.” he whispered, voice barely above the rustle of the blanket beneath you. “You can change your mind, you know. I won’t be mad. You set the rules here.”

“No, I’m fine. I just don’t know what uh, how-” You stumbled over your words, the weight of his gaze made you feel like a small, clueless girl who didn’t belong in this moment. Not when it came with your inexperience in something as simple yet monumental as kissing.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Harry murmured softly and began rubbing slow, soothing circles into your arms, trying to coax the tension out of your body. “You’re so tensed, baby.”

A quiet huff of frustration escaped your lips as you tried to shake out your limbs to force the anxiety out. You hated that your nerves were betraying you like this.

Once your breathing evened out a little, he reached up, his left hand gliding up to the side of your neck with practiced ease. His fingers were gentle but sure, angling your head just slightly to his wanting, thumb grazing the flutter of your pulse point from time to time.

Your breath hitched when he leaned in. His nose brushed softly against your cheek, dragging a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Then his lips joined the same path, pressing featherlight kisses to your skin, slow and deliberate, a wordless message of reassurance in each.

“Lemme kiss on you for a bit.” he whispered against your jaw, his breath hot. “We’ll get you calm. It'll feel so much nicer then, I promise.” Another kiss, this one closer to his final destination. “Don’t think too hard, sweetheart. Just… feel.”

As Harry pressed gentle kisses along your cheeks and jaw, your hands became restless. You didn’t know where to place them, what to hold onto, how to touch him in a way that felt natural. The slight tremor in your fingers didn’t help either. Eventually, you reached for his free hand that was resting loosely on your side, holding you in place, and laced your fingers through his, guiding your intertwined hands in your lap.

“You’re still doing okay?” he asked gently, pulling back just enough for your breaths to mix. His voice low and tender. “We can stop if you want.”

“Mhm… don’t- don’t stop.” It came out more shaky than you wanted, but still sure. You squeezed his hand in what was supposed to be (your) reassurance. He responded instantly, giving your fingers a firm but gentle squeeze in return.“Take a deep breath for me, yeah? In and out… That’s it. Good girl.” The words wrapped around you like a soft blanket. Harry tried everything to soothe you as much as it was possible. Yet your nervousness was adorable to him. how stressed out you were over something as kissing, something he did almost every night without thinking.

And a few moments later, his lips found yours.

They were warm and impossibly soft, like cushions brushed in the slightest trace of smoke he must’ve had earlier. It wasn’t quite a kiss, not yet. More of a hesitant touch. Lips brushing, delicate and unsure. A question, not a statement. You tilted your head slightly, testing the angle, testing the feeling. Trying to learn him.

The next kiss was fuller, a proper press of lips on lips. No longer just testing the waters, but committing to it deeply. You could feel the corners of Harry’s mouth curve upward into a subtle smile the moment you mirrored the motion of his lips with newfound confidence. His hand slid from your jaw to cradle your cheek, fingers spreading gently, thumb brushing over the reddening skin in soft motions. The softness of his touch grounded you, even when your heart felt like it could burst out of your chest at any given moment. He held you close like the most precious thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but wonder, if he touched the girls he had overnight the same way or if you were special.

You exchanged soft pecks and gentle kisses for what felt like minutes, maybe more, you lost track of time right after his lips were on yours. Each kiss grew a little bolder and deeper. Every so often, one of you sighed into the other’s lips, or tentatively brushed in a curious lick. “You’re doing so good, sweets. Open up your mouth a little, yeah?” Harry murmured between kisses and with a small peck to the corner of your mouth dived back in. This time, his tongue flicked gently against your lower lip, tasting you, asking without force.

The room had fallen into a hush of quiet noises - occasional whimpers and wet sounds of your lips. The movie still played in the background, long forgotten, only the light coming from the TV reminded you of it with colorful shadows across the walls.

You parted your lips just slightly as he asked, enough for him to deepen the kiss, enveloping you like a warm cocoon in the moment. His tongue stroked gently past yours in a motion that made your stomach twist and your fingers clutch his tighter in surprise. Harry immediately sensed the shift in your body, the new tension clutching at your limbs, and pulled back just a little, replacing the intensity with a series of softer pecks, grounding you again with the calm rhythm of his thumb on your cheek. “Everything okay?”

You nodded, maybe a little too quickly, breathless and wide-eyed. “I didn’t know it would feel this… this intense,” You finally breathed out, barely finding your voice and opened your eyes to look up at him. And with the one single look full of something unspoken he gave you, you were completely gone.

Harry was quiet for a while, watching you, how your chest rose and fell too quickly and your shoulders still held the tension of uncertainty. But nothing about it felt wrong. Not even your lingering nervousness. Everything felt exactly as it should be. In this moment, with you two finally together.

“Intense?” His voice was quiet, like if he didn't want to startle you even more, not that he could. His touch grew even more gentle as he reached up, brushing a strand of our hair behind your ear. “Bad intense or good intense?”

“Good intense. It feels like… a lot. Right here.” You brought your intertwined hands up between you and guided his palm to your chest, right where your heart thudded wildly beneath your ribs. He felt the subtle moving of your muscles and you could see his smile softening, one corner of his mouth tugged up again. “But it feels so good.”

“That’s normal. Means it’s real. We are.” The words felt like the most precious thing you wanted to treasure forever. Lock it in the coffer and swallow the key. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, gentle and light, and it made you giggle, loud enough to ease the tense atmosphere.

“You’re my favorite person ever, you know that?” Harry murmured, his lips brushing barely against yours in a whisper of a kiss. His fingers were buried in your hair, mindlessly wrapping strands around them the way he always had. A habit he never seemed to outgrow.

“Do you tell that to every girl you kiss?” You couldn't stop yourself from asking. The question was laced with a vulnerability you didn’t want him to see. But it would burn your tongue if you kept it in a second longer. This situation was getting more dangerous with each touch and word, pulling you into depth you couldn’t crawl away from.

“Just you.” He finally leaned in and stole the breath right from your lungs with the touch of sincerity. There was no rush, no pressure. It was the kind of kiss that told you more than words could. It was everything.

Your lips moved with his, slow at first, but growing more confident as the time passed. The rhythm between you got bigger meaning than the word ‘natural’ had. Your free hand slid up at the side of his neck, fingertips massaging muscles on his neck with pressure and softness at once. Harry hummed quietly in response, a sound that vibrated more through your chest and down to your core than ringed in your ears. A wordless answer, a praise at how good you were doing. He kissed you again, and again, until your mind went quiet. Until you became the definition of being kissed senseless by the boy who knew your heart better than anyone else ever would.

Minutes slipped by unnoticed when you pulled back, just enough to let your forehead rest against his. Your breaths mingled in the small space between you, hot and uneven, slowly syncing as your lips tingled, still swollen from his kisses. Your brain felt mushy, your thoughts scattered somewhere between the couch cushions and the soft curve of his mouth. There was the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. Held, tender and safe.

Your chest heaved in a shaky rhythm as you tried to find your voice again, managing only a breathless whimper that instantly caught his attention. “I- uh I think we have a problem.”

Harry blinked at you sleepily, still caught in the dazed haze of making out. “Huh?” His brows furrowed as he squinted at you, clearly confused, like his brain hadn’t fully caught up with the words that left your lips. His grip on you subtly tightened, grounding you both in case whatever was going through your mind might shatter something between you.

You glanced away for a split second, cheeks heating as you tried to gather your courage again. “I’m gonna need your kisses every day after that…” Your voice was light and honest, but laced with something deeper. It was more than just admitting a passing joke. It was real. And it felt too right to regret.

You saw emotions swirl and shift across Harry’s face. He was stunned, caught completely off guard by your words, frozen for a beat before a loud, genuine laugh burst from his chest, vibrating through yours. “Baby!” He groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you close like he couldn’t physically contain the joy bubbling inside him.

He peppered your skin there with chaste kisses and loud smooches that left big ‘mwah’ sounds behind, before pulling back just far enough to meet your eyes again, grinning like a fool.

“We can arrange that. Don’t worry.”

[bluewxrld07]

I'm The Problem (Luke Hughes)

Summary: Luke isn't the happiest camper post his shoulder surgery, and he feels at a loss at the fact he needs help doing almost everything. His best friend Y/N has been there every step of the way, but takes a step back after Luke get overstimulated

Warning(s): angst, yelling/cursing, crying, lack of self-worth

"For fucks sake."

Luke was annoyed to say the absolute least.

After getting an injury towards the end of the season, especially during playoffs, he felt like he let down the team at the one time where it counted most.

The surgery went smooth and well, it was the recovery that was taking a toll on him. He was a someone who liked the faster healing process rather than sitting on being patient. Only in certain cases that is, which this one happens to be part of.

He always looked forward to the summertime because he got to see his friends back home, stay at the lakehouse, golf and skate freely without the pressure on him.

Now he could barely do any of that without his injury causing some sort of issue. Don't even get him started on the sling. He hated that thing with a burning passion.

Y/N though, was there to help pick him back up when he needed it most.

She managed to take time off of work for a couple weeks during the week of his surgery to help him, especially since Jack was still in recovery from his own.

Luke didn't think he'd be able to get through anything without her around, she was an angel in disguise for him post surgery.

That was at first.

The more and more Luke figured out he couldn't do while in Michigan, the more frustrated and overwhelmed he began to feel. He couldn't swing a golf club, put on clothes properly, wash his hair, drive a car (or boat for that matter). It was beginning to piss him off as time went on.

Y/N would cut in to help him whenever she could see the annoyance reaching his eyes.

The time he was trying to open one of his meal prep containers, tongue sticking out as he grumbled at it not opening.

So Y/N walked over and softly grabbed it from his hands. "I got it, it's okay." she assures him with a soft smile, opening it with a pop and handing it back to him.

"Thank you pretty girl," he chuckles dryly.

Luke first started off mumbling out 'thank you's and now he barely said a thing when she'd cut in. He would either scoff or stomp away like a toddler.

Y/N understood how helpless Luke felt, as having a knee surgery a few years back that caused her to be bedridden for a month or two. it was hard to see everyone doing stuff for you around you when all you wanted to do was accomplish it on your own.

What Luke didn't know was how exhausted Y/N was. Not mentally, but physically. She was up every night the week post his surgery, making sure to switch out his ice packs, bandages, meds, you name it.

She only got a couple hours of sleep realistically each night during that time. She would never complain about it, because she wanted to make the process easy on Luke.

It was now the summertime in which meant she was done with college for the time being until fall, so she was also joining the boys at the lakehouse as per tradition. Not only to make sure Luke had the help he needed, but to also see her other favorite friends she hadn't seen in a bit as they were all traveling for work too.

It was another early morning in the Hughes lakehouse, she was just returning from her workout session and grocery shopping when she could hear the quiet commotion of some of the boys awake in the kitchen.

She smiles warmly as she sets down both arms that are full of grocery bags, nicely onto the counter. Dylan Duke, Cole and Quinn were all awake and made their ways over to the girl to help unpack everything.

"You're all awake earlier than usual." she jokes, opening a bottle of water.

"We decided to run this morning, and we were the only ones who actually got up at our alarms to go." Cole mentions, making her chuckle lightly.

"Should've came and joined my class today. Totally would've made you sweat your asses off, but totally worth how you feel afterwards." She says after she swallows a sip of her drink.

Quinn gives her a look, and points at her. "Absolutely not, I've seen how scary Hot Pilates can be." he denies as he puts groceries away.

"Oh come on it isn't that bad. You gotta try it before you hate on it!" she argues, Dylan laughing at her statement.

"We choose life sweetheart," Cole laughs. "Besides us men can't be seen dying in a class like that. Let's be real." Dylan adds. Y/N rolls her eyes playfully.

"Besides," Quinn buds in. "Luke was about to go insane if he didn't get out of this house somehow and do something more productive."

Y/N raises her brow. "He went running too?"

The boys nodded. "How'd he feel after that?" she says, going to sit at one of the barstools and crossing one leg over the other.

Quinn puts a hand over his neck and slides it across as if to signal not to ask. She purses her lips. "That bad huh?"

Dylan sighs. "He ended up stopping halfway through and walking the rest of the way because the motion kept killing his shoulder. He was red in the face by the time he got back to the house, and it wasn't just from how warm it is outside."

Y/N rubs a hand over her face. "Did he take any of his painkillers? I left them on his nightstand this morning before I left."

Dylan shrugs his shoulders. "No idea. He was too crabby to talk to, so I have no idea."

"You know I'm not deaf right?" Luke's voice booms into the kitchen, his back turned towards them all as he goes to sit on the couch.

He was dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a plain navy blue t-shirt, his sling over his body and hair still slightly damp from his shower.

Y/N looks at the boys, trying to hide her amused smile as they are. They decide to keep putting stuff away for Y/N while she looks back at Luke who is hunched over and tense.

She hops off the chair and makes her way towards him and rounds the couch to sit next to the blond boy.

He is staring forward, knee bouncing as if he is contemplating in his head.

"How're you feeling Lu?" she asks cautiously.

Luke just grimaces. "Sore." Is all he responds with.

"Did you take some of your meds?"

"Yeah I did when I got back."

"Why didn't you take them before?"

Luke just lets out a loud huff and rolls his eyes, standing up his spot and walking into the kitchen to join the boys conversation.

Y/N frowns at his mood change, knowing no matter how frustrated he got, he never shut her down like that. Instead of bombarding him she ignores it and stands up herself.

"I'm gonna go shower, and then what is the plan today?" she asks.

Cole scratches his head. "Uhhh I think we're going to do the boat for like an hour or two, and then Jack was saying we should hit up this new juice place. He said it's similar to Jamba Juice or something, but it's like the protein juice things."

She gives a thumbs up before walking away towards Luke's room to grab a change of clothes before heading to shower.

Once she finishes and she's dressed, she heads back down the stairs to now see everyone was awake and music was softly playing in the background as they all conversed.

Jack saw her and smiled before pulling her in for a bear hug. "Goodmorning sunshine."

"More like good afternoon now sir." she chuckles, and Jack rolls his eyes as he looks down at her when they break apart. "Hey I forgot I told them I would join this morning, I like my sleep."

"Oh I know. I said you guys should've just joined my workout class this morning."

Jack snorts. "Absolutely not, I choose life my dear Y/N."

"That's what I told her!" Dylan points out, mouthful of food.

"You're a bunch of wimps." she laughs as she goes to grab the cooler off of Quinn's hands.

"Let's get this show on the road now shall we? We're wasting daylight!" she says before heading towards the sliding door.

They all began to slowly follow behind the girl, her letting them all pass to make sure the door was shut before they left. Luke was the last to leave, his face still a bit more droopy. His eyes caught hers, and she gave him a soft, warm smile. "You ready to go?" she says.

"I'm here aren't I?" he says with an annoyed tone, making her smile fall slightly but she tries to hide it and just nods.

"I brought some of your stuff just incase you start to hurt while we're out there." she says, and he just nods.

"You feeling okay Luke?" she finally asks as they walk side by side.

"Yes I'm fine, stop asking." he says in a short tone, earning a frown from Y/N.

"Watch the tone I'm only asking because I care." she shoots back, and watches his face fall slightly.

"Sorry. I'm sorry you're right. I'm just really sore today." he says with a sigh, and she nods. "That's okay. It's normal. I get it." is all she answers with a tight smile.

The rest of the way onto the boat is quiet between them both, Luke deciding to catch up to Duke and talk with him as they got onto the boat.

Jack helped grab the cooler and Y/N's wrist to help her onto the boat, the girl smiling thankfully at him as she stepped onto the wobbly platform.

She went to go sit across from Luke instead of next to him like she usually would, just to give him a bit of space as she's noticed his mood has been a bit more negative with her.

Luke doesn't say anything as he sees her sit across from him, only eyeing her as he talks to Duke who sits on one side of him. She gives him a tight-lipped smile before looking away and starts to talk with Cole and Trevor, Quinn being the designated driver for the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ouch Trevor! Move your fat ass over!" Y/N laughs out, pushing the boy over to his side of the booth, rolling her eyes as he playfully dramatized her actions with a fake pout.

The other boys get back with everyone's drinks, Y/N thanking Quinn as he handed her what she ordered before she takes a sip.

The group all converses amongst one another, discussing the plans for the summer and all the concerts they have all planned while sipping and munching on food and drinks.

"So Y/N you gonna have any dates while you're out here this summer?" Cole teases, earning a look from her with an amused smile.

"Yeah absolutely not. Remember how that went last summer?"

"Which one? The one that stood you up and said his fish died, or the one that ordered for you?" he jokes.

"Both actually," she chuckles while sipping on her drink.

"Yeah I remember when you texted the chat saying how the dumbass had been already sitting at a table with food ordered by the time you got there."

"Wait what? He already had it ordered?" Jack snorts.

She nods with a laugh. "Oh yeah. Basically gave me the house salad that comes with his order. So didn't even order me something for myself." she says, the guys all laughing.

Luke rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he remembers that day. She felt so annoyed and so pissed off, and she was starving after that ended.

"Never again. If I go on a date at all this summer, it's because it's with the guy I'd actually want to go on one with." she admits, making the boys all snap their heads to her.

"Wait," Trevor says, mouthful of chips. "There actually is a guy you have your eyes on??" he questions, and she nods with a raised brow.

"Who?" Duke pries, and she shrugs her shoulders while stirring her drink.

Her eyes scan the group, Jack giving her a knowing look and she just averts his gaze. "Oh come on you've gotta give us something." Cole groans, and she shakes her head.

"Nope not this year."

"Why not?"

"Because everytime I tell you guys, I feel like I jinx it because then they ghost me right after!"

"I doubt this one would." Quinn hums out, making her snap her head towards him and his shrugs.

"What? It's true!"

"Quinn knows?! Why does Quinn know?" Trevor whines.

"She didn't tell me, I just figured it out." he laughs, and she points at him with a nod.

"He's right."

"Well then now you have to tell us." Trevor begs, and she shakes her head with a laugh.

"What does Golfing look like this week?" she says to change the subject. The guys easily grab onto the bait and start discussing what they had in mind, her eyes drifting towards Luke who sat in the corner of the booth.

He was in his own world, gnawing on his straw as he tries to listen to the group converse. She can tell he is in his own mind.

She lightly nudges his leg underneath the table, causing him to snap out of his daze and look over at her. "You feeling alright?" she asks a little bit more on the quiet side, not to disturb the group of boys in front of them.

He rolls his eyes. "Y/N when are you going to stop asking me that? It's really not necessary." His gaze going back to the boys.

"You just seem off, and I want to make sure you're okay. Or that if your shoulder is bugging you-"

"I'm not a pussy I can handle the soreness and pain that comes with my injury, alright? Knock it off." he snaps quietly, his eyes burning over towards hers.

She looks at him in disbelief, stunned at the words that just came out of his mouth.

"Fuck me I guess." she mumbles back before deciding to ignore his energy, ignoring the look he throws her way after she says that, indulging in the new topic the boys were now caught into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Once they had arrived home from the juice place, Y/N was at a breaking point.

After how Luke had treated her throughout the day, she began to realize something was seriously wrong with him. She couldn't figure out what it was.

She knew he had been frustrated about his injury in general, but she didn't know why it was getting worse whenever she came around.

The boys all went to sit down in the livingroom as the rain started to slowly come down. The soft patters being heard on the rooftop of the house.

They turned on some country music while connecting the PS5 to the giant TV screen. Y/N had gone into the kitchen to go and grab herself something to eat and something to drink, setting it onto the kitchen island as she also went and prepped Luke's meds he was supposed to take every evening like clockwork.

The glass of water fills up and she tries to hide the shaking in her hands, both from exhaustion and anxiety because of what's going on with Luke.

She shook the tension away that was forming between them, and put on a fake facade while walking over to the boys.

"You going to come and join us for a round?" Cole asks, motioning towards the video games on the screen.

She smiles and nods. "Yes I will. Just give me a few minutes."

Y/N walks towards the other big couch where Luke was sitting with Duke and Jack, softly putting her hand on his good shoulder. He whipped his head towards her before rolling his eyes.

"Hey I have your meds, and I grabbed you a water to help get them down-"

"I don't need it."

"Luke you know you're supposed to take these or you can't sleep." she pries with a frown.

He huffs and decides to ignore her, starting to talk to Duke and Jack again. The boys give her a reassuring look before looking back at Luke.

"Luke, take them. You know how you get without them. If you take them later you're going to get sick." she tries again soft but stern.

Luke still doesn't acknowledge her, so she lets out a huff.

"Luke I swear if you don't take these-"

"Oh my fucking fuck Y/N just stop! I said No!"

"Luke I know you don't want to, but your surgeon says you need-"

"I don't give a fuck! I am sick of taking those and I am sick of you breathing down my neck and forcing those down my throat. Seriously knock it the fuck off!" he snaps, making the room quiet and look at the pair.

His eyes are now staring up at hers with a sharp glare, hers frowning down at him in confusion.

"Luke what the fuck is your issue? I'm just trying to help you-"

"Well fucking stop helping! I don't need your help, or you! You're insufferable! You breathe down my neck at every single moment of every single fucking day and it's annoying. You're like a clingy girlfriend who won't hop off my dick. Seriously stop, just stop!" he yells out, and begins to stand up.

Only when he stands up, his good shoulder hits her hands that were frozen in place with the glass and pills. Before she can react, the glass and pills spill from her hands and crash onto the hardwood floor, glass shattering everywhere.

It was so silent that you could've heard a pin drop. Y/N is frozen as she looks at the mess on the ground, hands shaking as her anxiety increases, hands frozen in their spot where she was once holding things.

She could feel the tears forming, lip quivering.

"Y/N" Jack's voice perks up slowly.

"Y/N are you okay?" Jack asks slowly once again. She snaps out of her daze, and sniffles putting on a fake smile.

She nods quickly and her arms fall to their sides.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine, I'm good. I uh I'm just going to clean this up and head to bed." she says before walking quickly to the kitchen to grab the cleaning supplies.

Jack is the first to stand up and follow behind her to the closet.

She's letting out a few huffs and sniffles when he sees her, shakily grabbing the broom and dust pan. Jack grabs them from her hands and says her name softly to have her look up at him.

"I got it. It's okay." he says to her in an assuring tone.

She looks into his eyes for a second, Jack seeing the heartbreak hitting her eyes as tears fall freely.

"I got the mess. Okay?" he says one more time, and she wipes her eyes.

"Okay." she sighs before leaving the room quickly and rushing up the stairs.

When Jack emerges from the closet and over towards the mess on the ground, his eyes glared over at Luke who was still standing and facing where Y/N once stood.

"You're a fucking asshole, Luke." he growls out. Luke sighs and lets his head fall.

"That was a dick move. Real dick move bro, she's been there for you the most out of anybody." Duke adds in, Luke running his hands through his hair.

"Well she hasn't left me alone for one fucking minute! I was losing my mind okay? This recovery has fucking sucked." he sputter out, sitting back down and putting his face into one hand.

"Do you know how much shit she has done for you? She didn't sleep a wink when she was one jersey during your first week post surgery." Jack admits.

"What do you mean?" Luke says.

"She stayed up a majority of every night in case you woke up in pain, or in case you needed something other than your doses of your meds. She was the one who would fill the kitchen with your favorite snacks. Your favorite drinks. She was the one who has dropped everything to take you to PT and your surgical follow ups. She hasn't slept since your surgery, because she wants to make sure this recovery is as easy as it can be for you!" Jack bursts, red in the face.

Luke sighs. "Fuck." he winces.

"Dude if you weren't injured right now I'd fucking smack you silly." Quinn scoffs.

"I don't care if you're injured, I'm still debating on doing it." Jack says.

Luke felt like shit. It was all hitting him now.

The times he caught her already awake at five in the morning. The tired red eyes she would have, bags very prominent underneath. The little naps she would take on his lap during the day. Her forgetting to eat because she was so caught up on preparing his food. Missing nights out with her girlfriends to be there for his appointments and PT.

Now he knows he has fucked up in the past, but he really fucked up in this moment. He fucked up terribly.

"I'd be so surprised if you're able to fix this one. You really hurt her, Luke." Jack says, a tired tone being heard in his voice.

"I really fucking hurt her. Fuck I fucked up bad." he groans out, feeling his face get hot and eyes gloss over.

All of their ears perked up when they hear the front door shut, Jack's eyes darting back over to Luke with a scowl as his own face had a fearful look going.

Silence follows as the boys watch Jack drop the supplies in his hands and scurry towards the entryway and open the door.

The door slams shut and Jack comes stomping back.

He points at Luke. "I'm gonna beat your ass." he snaps walking over towards his brother, Cole and Trevor walking towards him and pull him back. Luke stands up.

"What? Why? What happened?"

"She's gone."

Luke's eyes widen, soon rounding the couch and running up the stairs and towards his room.

He slams the door open on turns on the light, frowning when he sees her stuff is still on her side of his bed still in the messy clean form it was in this morning.

He rushes down the stairs. "Her stuff is still here." he says.

Jack is running his hand through his hair while the other is sitting on his hip.

"You better go find her. You better fucking find her, or hope she fucking comes back in one piece. If not, it's your head that will be on a stick by morning."

Luke glares at Jack at his sudden protectiveness over Y/N. "Since when do you get so protective over her? What's your fucking deal?"

"Because that girl is one you shouldn't treat like shit or throw away! She's one that you keep around forever, Luke. That girl is so fucking in love with you and you fucking blew it!" Jack says, his voice raising with every word he says.

Luke freezes.

"Wait, what?"

Jack bites his lip. "Fuck," he hisses. "I wasn't supposed to say that."

"Since when? How long have you known this?" Luke says, his anger now rising.

"No you don't get to fucking be the one who is pissed off! You don't get to act like that!" Quinn buds in.

Luke glares at his older brother. "You knew too? Are you fucking joking? Why-"

"Alright fucking enough! This isn't what we should be fighting about, what we should be doing is figuring out how the fuck Luke is going to fix things with Y/N." Trevor bursts out, making everyone turn over to him in shock.

Trevor throws his hands up in the air. "Yeah I know. Trevor of all people saying you guys need to calm the fuck down, but seriously I'm the only one that is also willing to see that we have a bigger issue to fix right now."

"Luke you need to figure out what you're going to say and do to fix this," Trevor instructs while pointing at him. He then points at the other boys. "You guys can sort your shit out afterwards. Y/N comes first right now."

Luke huffs, knowing he really had to sort his shit out. He royally fucked up badly, and this was the girl he cared about more than anyone else who existed in his life.

Jack was right. She was a forever girl.

He just hoped that she would still be there after all of this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Y/N arrived home, it was late. WayI late.

She knew it was way late when all of the boys were sleeping, and the lights were all off inside the house. The outdoor porch light glowing a dark orange as she approached the front door.

Sniffles left her lips as she tried to stay as quiet as she could while opening the door, silently closing and locking it behind her.

The girl kicks her shoes off and lines them up at the door with all the other pairs of shoes there, setting her keys on the group key hanger before padding into the kitchen.

She turns on the dimmer lighting, hoping to not let it be too bright to wake any of the boys whom were sleeping on the main floor bedrooms.

When she opened the fridge she saw her leftovers that she was going to eat earlier that night sitting right in the smack-dab front, a note adorning the top of the lid.

Made sure nobody touched it. I hope you're home safely

-Quinn

She sighs before placing the note on the counter, opening up the container and grabbing a fork as she decides to just eat it cold to not worry about waking up anyone in the house.

Y/N brings the bowl over to one of the living room couches and eats in absolute silence, her mind running in circles as it has been all night. She thought maybe going for a drive and then stopping at the beachfront of the lake next to theirs would be a way to somewhat clear her mind a bit.

As she sat there alone with her thoughts once more, she couldn't help but break down into more tears.

Her container falls onto the coffee table as she lets the tears fall freely, putting her head into her hands as she lays herself on her side. Her chest feeling heavy as her heart breaks over again.

She couldn't believe Luke had really said those things. Really thought that about her especially.

Was she really that clingy? That much of a nuisance to Luke? Was she just causing more harm than good to him right now? Should she just leave the lakehouse in the morning was the real question.

She didn't know what to do.

Tears kept falling freely as she lay there on the couch, curled into a ball, rubbing her arms up and down.

Her eyes suddenly started to feel heavier, her sobs turning into soft hiccups, tears drying on her face that was red, splotchy and puffy. She let her eyes slowly close, her mind trying to be silenced by sleep.

Which slowly does take over.

Y/N soon is fast asleep on the couch, no blanket or pillow covering her as she was too caught up in her mind to notice.

Little did she realize that her container falling onto the table caused a loud enough noise for the oldest Hughes brother to stun awake and head out to the kitchen to see what was happening.

He squints around, then does s double take when he sees a small form curled up on the couch while little hiccups left their mouth. He walks over, his heart clenching as he sees Y/N shaking from crying so much while being fast asleep.

He grabs her bowl and puts the rest back into the fridge for her tomorrow, then walking back over to the girl and picking her up slowly to not disturb the much needed slumber she needs.

Quinn looks down at her, seeing how torn her face looked even in her sleep. If thoughts could kill in that moment, he was sure Luke would be dead in an instant.

Once he is back into his room, he quietly shuts the door and brings her over to lay in his bed. He sets her down softly and cover her up with his comforter, kissing her head softly. "I'm so sorry he did this to you." he whispers out, knowing she couldn't hear him.

He sighs before standing up and walking over to his side of the bed and getting in. Once his light is turned off he is laying on his side and keeps his distance from Y/N so she has her space, before he himself slowly falls back into a deep slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Her car is here so she had to come back. There is no way she would just disappear." Luke says as he paces around. "She didn't come sleep in my room last night."

"Well I wouldn't blame her is she decided to sleep somewhere else too. I wouldn't want to be near you either after being told all of that." Duke says, earning a look from Luke. His friend put his hands up in defense.

Jack, Cole and Trevor were all out that morning picking up some of Y/N favorites in opes that they could try to make her feel a bit better, while Luke was conjuring up what he was going to do and say to Y/N to at least get on a path towards fixing things between them both.

"Where would she have gone? She hates sleeping in other beds. She says they're not as comfortable, and I'm the only one in the house that has a fan. Because she can't sleep without one." Luke bombards, biting his nails.

"Well I think after how much she cried out last night, her body will be out for quite some time with no fan or your bed needed." Quinn's voice perks up, the boys waltzing into the kitchen with a yawn.

Luke stops pacing and looks at Quinn.

"What do you mean? Where is she? Is she safe?"

Quinn shushes his brother with a look and a hand motion to shut him up.

"Yes she is fine. She's asleep in my room-"

"What the fuck-"

"No don't start that shit. She wouldn't be in there in the first place if you didn't act like a bitch and go off on her like you did last night." Quinn chirps before Luke can say another word. "So yeah she is sleeping in my room. I woke up because I heard her come home, she passed out from crying so much on the couch, so I carried her to sleep in my room. You need to get over yourself if you're going to even have a chance at fixing the mess you made." Quinn admits.

Luke knows he is right. Quinn might've been the more quiet and reserved one out of the three brothers, but when he was mad or driven about something, people listened because he wasn't bullshitting in any way.

Luke decided to keep his mouth shut and put his good hand on his hip.

"So what do I do? Where do I start?" he asks, and Quinn shuts the fridge to turn to his brother.

"You need to apologize. Really apologize, hear her out, and be fucking honest." Quinn instructs. "You want a chance at being with the one girl I know you're just as obsessed with as she is with you, then you need to lay every fucking thing out. Don't bullshit any of it, Luke." Quinn explains, letting his little brother take in his words.

"But for now, you need to let her sleep. She looked so exhausted. Let her sleep and take her time. Don't immediately jump her throat when she so much as walks out here." He finishes before disappearing from the kitchen to go outside.

Duke looks at Luke and nods. "I think he's right. He said it better than I could've."

So that's what Luke did.

He left to go golfing with the boys. He left to go out on the boat. He left to go into town for lunch. He gave her space. He didn't want to do what Quinn said would make her feel pressured. He kept his distance.

Throughout that day, he slowly started to realize just how much her presence was meant for their group. Meant for him. He never realized how important she became for him especially with all of his post surgery things. She did keep him in check for good reasons.

He was stressed out every time he forgot to take his meds. Or when he forgot to do his PT exercises. Or when he especially forgot to switch out his ice packs.

She really did make it an easier process for him. Every single thing she was doing wasn't to be a pain in his ass or cling onto him, it was to make it easier on him.

He groans at the thought, knowing he really wished he could've just shut his trap the night before, but of course his pain and soreness and helplessness made him lash out on the one person who made this whole thing so much simpler for him.

The boys all sat around the fire pit later that night, music playing softly while they all sat amongst one another and talked. The sun was nearly gone, crickets and frogs being heard around the lake as well as a few loons.

The talking simmered when the group heard the sliding door slowly opening, they all snapped their heads over to see the familiar girl's face appear.

She looked like she was fresh out of the shower, her hair damp and face free of makeup as she shut the door behind her.

She was wearing a pair of gray sweats and a UMich Hockey sweatshirt, one that looked like it might've been Luke's that she took a while ago.

Her hands were hiding in the big sleeves of the sweater as she walked down to join them, some of the boys letting frowns form on their faces as they see her face still puffy from the night before.

They all snap out of their frowns when her eyes rise up to look at them with the fakest smile Luke had ever seen on her.

"There's my favorite girl." Jack is the first to speak up warmly, wrapping her up in his arms as she went and sat down. All the other boys warmly greeted and cheered when she sat down, Y/N smiling at them as she took a deep breath.

"I made you one," Trevor says as he hands her one of his famous s'mores. She looks over at him.

"How'd you know?" she asks, and he shrugs with a wink.

"I told you, I've got that twin telepathy." Trevor jokes in a cocky tone, earning an amused look from the girl before she thanks him and blows him a kiss.

"See? Y'all see that? I got a kiss before you guys!" he sings out, making all the guys groan and swat at him as he does a funny little dance.

"I take it back." Y/N says, earning an awestruck Trevor.

"No take-backsies!" he pouts before going to sit back in his spot.

Her eyes never met Luke's, the boy silently begging for her to look at him just once. She never did.

The group all kept on their conversations, trying to distract from the obvious tension going on as they all didn't want to make Y/N anymore uncomfy than she probably felt.

Luke tried hard not to get jealous or annoyed at Jack or Trevor when they would be close to Y/N, as he knew they were only doing it to make her smile and feel better. He just couldn't help but feel that way as he wished it was him making her that way.

But he was the reason she wasn't smiling. Why her face was puffy. So he deserved that at payback. He deserved way worse to be honest.

As the night began to near its end, each boys lowly trailed their ways inside, Y/N and Luke being the last two to be sitting near the fire. Y/N wanted to enjoy the night, as bonfires were something that made her feel anchored and helped her decompress.

Luke kept his distance, only staying on the left side of her across the fire. His eyes hadn't really left her figure the entire night.

At that moment he decided he couldn't wait any longer. The suspense was killing him slowly. So he cleared his throat, watching as she didn't move a muscle.

"Um," he squeaks out. "You-you can take my bed tonight. If you want. I-I know you usually can't sleep without a fan, a-and that you prefer my bed because it helps elevate your back." he stutters out quietly.

Y/N keeps her gaze on the fire, and just nods. Luke feels his chest tighten.

He clears his throat once again.

"I-I um," he starts once more. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry-"

Y/N stands up before he can finish, soon walking away from the fire.

He watches her walk away in silence, watching as she disappears back inside the house. Luke lets out a shaky sigh, before standing up himself and using the pot of water next to the pit to put out the fire before soon making his way back up to the house himself.

When he reaches his room, he prays that she took his offer, the boy wanting to use the excuse of grabbing pajamas in case she was in there.

His bed was empty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day came by quicker than expected, and Luke was feeling at a loss.

Y/N had been ignoring him all day.

He had gotten up before the sun, went and picked up her favorite flowers, coffee and protein iced tea she loves, as well as her favorite bagel spot. He had even drove across town to get her the coffee grounds from a cafe that donates used coffee grounds to use for gardening, as he knows she loves using them when she does her planting at the lakehouse for Ellen and herself.

When she had come down that morning to get herself some breakfast, her face had contorted into all kinds of reactions.

Shock, awe, happiness, confusion, sadness and then nothing. It turned into nothing when she saw Luke creep in and giving her a look of hope.

She didn't acknowledge him once, but he knew he had gotten to her as she did indulge in the breakfast, coffee and iced tea he got her.

That was when Luke knew he had a chance to get her back.

Until the rest of the day had gone on.

She so much as did not look his way, acknowledge anything that had to do with him. She acted as if he didn't exist. Luke didn't know what to do. He couldn't talk to her as she wouldn't even try and be near him.

She either stuck to Jack or Cole's side for the day.

The evening was far from over too, and Luke was just ready to go to bed in that moment.

Especially now.

They were currently out at one of the dive bar clubs in the area, the music was loud and the place was packed.

Which also meant that Y/N was drunker than a sailor on a pirate ship.

She had been dancing and singing loudly to any and all of the songs, having any of the boys come dance with her as time went on. Luke stayed in his spot at the bar by Quinn, who looked very amused by her actions as she was spun around by Trevor.

"Have you gotten to talk to her yet?" Quinn says over the loud music.

Luke shook his head with a pout. "She's acting as if I don't exist."

Quinn uses his lips. "Do you blame her? You broke her heart. Especially after you said you'd never do that."

Luke huffs. "Yeah I know."

"Keep trying. That's all I'll say. You still have a shot. I know deep down she wants you to keep fighting."

"I'm trying. But she makes it so hard."

"She's worth it though?" Quinn trails off, and Luke thinks for a second. He then nods.

"Yeah. Yeah she is."

Trevor then runs up to them, drunkenly stumbling around as he reaches them. "Y/N disappeared outside. I think she's throwing up. I would go get her, but I'm not too far behind her." he says before disappearing back into the crowd.

Luke looks over at Quinn before he makes his way outside, eyes scanning for the familiar figure and spots her over at the corner by the bushes and hunched over.

He scurries over to her, using his good arm to caress her back as she throws up. He then takes her hair as best as he can with the one hand, and holds it back.

When she finishes dry heaving she turns and does a double take when she sees it's Luke.

She stumbles a little as she tries to push him away. "No, I don't want you." she slurs, dry heaving once more.

"Y/N stop focus on getting this out of your system right now. Quinn is coming with water." he says, and she shakes her head trying to get away from his grasp.

She forget that he still has a hold on her hair, and he gently pulls on it to keep her in her place. "You can hate me the most tomorrow, but I'm not letting you pass out after dry heaving for ten minutes. So it's me or the concrete."

"I choose the concrete."

"Y/N"

She drunkenly giggles at her comment, only to be stopped as she starts throwing up again. Luke keeps her hair back, his eyes looking back to see Quinn coming up with the bottled water.

He hands it to his younger brother. "I'm going to grab the boys and the car. I'll be back." he says before jogging back inside.

Once Y/N finishes her second round, she tries to stand straight but wobbles in the process. Luke is quick to catch her, only almost failing as his sling holds his bad arm back from fully being able to stabilize her.

He makes a dumb decision, but in that moment he was more focused on her.

He takes off his sling and lets it fall to the ground, Y/N watching the action and pout when she sees his sling fall to the ground. She points at it. "Your sling. You shouldn't be taking that off." she slurs out with a hiccup.

He shakes his head. "Not my concern right now, I'm more focused on keeping you upright. I don't need you passing out on me again." he tries to lighten the mood, only getting a scowl from her.

"Okay tough crowd." he mumbles, looking behind them to see any sign of Quinn.

"I'm serious-" she hiccups "put it back on. You can't have that off." she hiccups again as she bends down to try and get it.

"Y/N dammit leave it. I'll deal with my dumb decisions tomorrow."

"Like you other decision you made two days ago?"

His heart sinks at her words, seeing her eyes become big as she looks up at him. "Y/N look," he starts. "I'd love to have this conversation, and tell you how much I regret saying those things to you, but I want you sober for that. I'm not going to take advantage when you are probably seeing two of me."

"Hey! How'd you know that? Do you have my vision or something?" she whines, and he rolls his eyes trying to not laugh at her.

Before he knows it, Quinn is pulling around the corner to meet them. Luke brings her up to his car when he parks it, Quinn rushing up to grab her and he frowns at Luke as he looks down at his empty shoulder.

"Dude what are you doing? Put that back on!"

"I will, chill alright? I was more focused on trying to make sure she didn't fall face first onto the pavement." he says as he goes to grab the sling and carefully put it back on, trying to ignore the burning pain going up and down his collarbone.

It was a quiet ride home, as most of the drunk ones were already sleeping, the others just tired from the day they've had.

Once they were pulled into the driveway, Quinn hops out and goes to grab Y/N while Jack and Cole who are both not super drunk but are definitely past being buzzed, grab Trevor.

"Put her in my bed. I'm sleeping on the couch." Luke says to Quinn when they get inside. Instead of arguing, he nods and brings her up the stairs.

Luke follows behind, needing to go and grab some pajamas and his painkillers for the night. Once Quinn has set her in bed, Luke goes to turn on the fan for her watching as she snuggles closer into his sheets.

"She loves you still, you know." Quinn says softly, making Luke turn towards his eldest brother.

Luke gives him a pursed smile and nods, getting the same action back from Quinn before he leaves.

The blond boy slowly, and painfully, changes into a pair of sweats before going over to his bed to grab his pillow only to freeze when he sees Y/N's eyes looking up at him.

"You okay?" he asks.

"You hate when I ask you that, so don't ask me that." she snaps, her words still slurring.

He nods slowly. "I deserve that."

"You deserve a lot worse."

"Yes I do."

She stares at him, her eyes squinting at him as she watches him slowly try to take off his sling for bed. She doesn't miss the way his face winces at the pain he is definitely feeling after what he did.

"Where are you going?" she asks as she watches him head for his door. He points at it. "Downstairs. I'm going to go and sleep downstairs. Give you your space."

"Stay." she says, making him frown.

"Please." she slurs out softly, watching him fight with his mind. She watches as he slowly walks back over and cautiously gets into his side of the bed just incase she changes her mind.

"Just keep your distance." she says quickly and he nods.

"I know."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Luke was hurting like a bitch.

He tried his best to not wince and hiss when he woke up, not wanting to awaken the girl next to him.

When he finally got out of bed and down he stairs, he saw Quinn and Jack both in the kitchen talking. Jack was sitting on one of the barstools while Quinn was putting together breakfast.

They both looked over when they heard him coming in, seeing him hold his sling out signaling he needed help putting it on.

"That was a dumb move you made." Quinn says, and Luke rolls his eyes.

"Yeah well I was more concerned for her than I was about my arm. I'll live." he shoots back, thanking Jack as he finishes adjusting it for Luke.

"What happened?" Jack asks.

"Y/N was at her throwing up point where she can't end to pass out from dry heaving too much," Luke says before pouring himself a cup of coffee. "So I took my sling off and kept her upright instead of letting her faceplate straight into the concrete."

Jack hums. "You're a dumbass," he starts. Luke chuckles dryly as he goes to sit down next to Jack. "But proud of you." he says before taking a bite of his waffles and standing up, patting the boy on his back.

"I'm off. I'm meeting Sammy for a farmer's market run this morning. So I'll be back around one." he says, putting his place in the sink and then heading towards the front door.

Quinn nods. "I'll be leaving shortly too. Trev and Cole are still sleeping. I think Duker and I are gonna go take up some ice time for a bit." he says, and Luke nods.

Y/N soon comes strolling in, still in her dress from the night before and her hair in a bun as she is squinting her eyes.

She goes to grab a cup of coffee, Quinn handing her a plate of food as she stand over by him at the island. "How you feeling champ?" he giggles, and she huffs.

"Not great. But not dying. I more so just have a headache right now. I think I got most of it out of my system last night." she explains with a dry laugh, taking a sip of her coffee.

Quinn laughs, before finishing up his breakfast. He goes over and kisses her head. "Don't kill him today, yeah?" is all he says, making her give him a look before he disappears.

Y/N just stands there, tracing the ring around her cup with her finger as they sat in silence.

Luke was the first to speak.

"There's um," he clears his throat. "There's some liquid IV in the cabinet. It's the berry one." he says, pointing to the cupboard.

She stands there quietly, taking a sip of her coffee and nodding.

Luke sighs. "Can I say more? Or are you going to leave before I can finish?" he asks genuinely.

"I'm debating." she answers back, not meeting his eyes as he keeps his own her figure.

"Well I'l just talk, and if you've had enough then you can walk away. Yeah?"

She says nothing, which then has him proceed.

"I fucked up," he sighs. "I really fucked up. I know that. I honestly wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to talk to me again."

"Again. Debating."

"And that's okay," he says, not wanting to say how much it would hurt him if she chose that. "I really should not make any excuses for what I said. I've just been in so much pain, and at such a breaking point with all of this. I took it out on you when I should not be doing that."

She takes a sip of her coffee, soon taking a bit of her food. He takes that as a sign that she isn't ready to leave just yet.

"I didn't realize how much you were doing until you weren't there. You know what I also realized?"

For the first time, she looks at him.

"I realized all you were trying to do was make this whole healing process easier on me. Not pester me. Or overwhelm me. Or annoy me. It was simply to make sure I was on the right path towards a faster paced healing process to get back on my feet."

"That's all I was trying to do, and have been trying to do Luke. Because I know how you get. You proved my point when you blew up at me like that." she answers in a monotoned voice. Luke nods.

"I know that now. And I'm so grateful for that and for you. Especially after having that realization," he says. "I hated hearing how you haven't slept, and how you have put me first. If anything don't do that again. For my sake. As much as I love you for that, I need you do make sure Y/N is healthy first."

Y/N ears perk up, and she looks at him with a frown. "What did you just say?" she says softly.

Luke furrows his brows. "I need you to put yourself first. Your health."

"You said you love me."

Luke's eyes widen, and his heart freezes. He did not even realize he let that come out.

He clears his throat and he feels his ears heat up, seeing her face change slightly. "I um," he squeaks. "Yeah. Yeah I do love you. I think I always have, but after realizing all of this I think it made me realize I loved you more." he admits, his voice shaky as he looks at her.

"Luke."

"I'm serious, Y/N." he says. "I know you hate love bombing, but honestly that slipped out. And I am just going to own it because it's nothing but the damn truth."

Y/N just stands there in disbelief. Luke continues. "I want you to know that I truly and deeply am sorry for saying all of those things. You're not clingy. You're not annoying or a burden or any sort of negative impact on my life." he says, slowly getting closer to her. "If anything I do need you. And I want you as mine and mine only. I don't want any of those stupid guys from last summer to be the type of dates you have this year. I want us to figure our shit out, and I want to give you the proper dates you deserve."

Y/N looks up at Luke. "You've got a lot of making up to do, Hughes. A lot."

Luke takes a deep breath. "I know. I know I do."

"You broke my heart."

"I know."

"You called me things."

"I did, and I'm sorry for that."

"Yet I love you too."

His eyes could've popped out of his head. "W-What?" he cracks out, and she give him a small smile.

Before he knew what was happening, she flicks his forehead hard and then smacks his cheek. "Ouch, hey!" he says in awe, and she points at him.

"You deserve that," she says. "But I got those out of the way so I could finish with this."

She lightly grabs his jaw and places a chaste kiss on his lips. He groans when she pulls away far too short for his liking.

"No. No more. Because you have a lot of shit to fix first."

"Roger that."

"I love you."

"I love you too, and I will spend the rest of my life proving it."

[sodaneko]

SATURN LIGHTNING ; Suna x f!reader

It’s a beautiful destruction, taking you apart like this, and Suna isn’t so sure anymore who is ruining who now, but it doesn’t matter as long as he gets to keep you as his sweetest secret. 

contains: f!reader, brother's best friend & roommate suna, +18 (not sfw, mdni), pet names (attagirl, sweet girl, baby, good girl), fingering, oral (reader receiving), praise kink, spit kink (you know me), secret romance, down bad and mildly obsessed suna, born from two drabbles (one + two) but not necessary to read them prior for context, hello i'm back in sunarin hell

word count: 1.5k

Big brother’s best friend Suna Rintarō has trouble sleeping ever since you moved in with Osamu and him. He blames it on the thin walls and your insatiable nature (he’s convinced it runs in the family) because when he walks down the hallway after midnight he can hear you rubbing out your frustrations on the highest settings of your vibrator, the relentless buzzing and your cursing under your breath when your toy dies on you. You poor little thing, he thinks to himself, because he knows your own hands won’t do. 

Not anymore at least, not since you got a taste of his fingers working you open. 

It’s a good thing that Osamu is working day and night at his newly opened restaurant, and when he’s not working he’s dead asleep for half a day, blissfully unaware that his best friend is making his sister squirt for the first time in the other room. Suna is pretty sure Osamu would kill him if he found out about this, but the thought melts away the moment he sinks into your tight hole, feeling you flutter around him. He constantly told himself he could put a halt on this anytime–but then you just had to look up at him this teary eyed, his slender fingers pressing down on your tongue where his cum was pooling, and let him spit in your mouth, swallowing everything he gave you.

Yeah, he could never let you go. He's gonna ruin you for everyone else. 

As always it’s late when Suna hears the soft patter of your feet across the wooden floor again. You don’t bother knocking or turning any light on, too risky waking up your brother, instead you just push Suna’s door open a tiny crack so you can slip inside, heading straight for his bed. The mattress dips slightly under your weight and you hum when he lifts the covers, inviting you in. 

“Hi Rin,” you whisper with a small breathless giggle, acting coy as if your panties weren’t already soaked by the time he runs a finger over the fabric. 

“Hi sweet girl,” Suna murmurs, his hand finding you where your shirt rides up, pulling you closer to him by the waist. His thumb is tracing idle circles against your bare skin, admiring your softness. In the dark his lips find yours, melting against each other in a hungry kiss. His tongue slides against yours, lapping up the small moans threatening to escape your throat. He has one thigh slotted between your legs, guiding your sloppy movements as you grind on him. 

Suna thinks you’re a vision when you’re like this. the heat in your cheeks, your glassy eyes, your lips plump and glistening from your cherry lip gloss and his spit. Your shirt pushed up, exposing the underside of your chest and your hardened nipples while the damp patch in your panties is growing bigger by the minute. And god, your gaze–fiery, hungry, quietly pleading, no, demanding.

“Gonna play with your pussy,” he whispers against your lips, his fingers already slipping past the waist band. He finds you soaked and aching for his touch, a stuttered breath escaping your throat when he draws slow, lavish circles around your clit. “Be good for me, yeah? Not a sound. Can you do that for me?”

You nod eagerly, a small mewl escaping your throat, earning you a click of his tongue. Suna feigns annoyance, his hand cupping your cunt. There’s this shit-eating grin again when you grind against his palm, desperately searching for some sweet friction. Your pupils are blown out when you look back at him, an expression between desire and something challenging. You whine quietly, biting down on your bottom lip to stop the sounds from slipping out. The sight makes the heat pool in his lower stomach, shooting straight into his cock. 

“On your hands and knees for me, c’mon,” Suna instructs, pushing himself up and eventually flipping you over on your stomach when you’re too slow to follow what he told you, your mind already lightheaded from his ministrations. He gives your side a small pat while he positions himself between your spread legs from behind, instructing you to lift your hips for him.

“Attagirl,” he mutters once you push up your ass in the air with a small wiggle, your cunt on full display for him like that. His cock is straining and leaking uselessly against his sweatpants. Later. He has patience of a saint, you on the other hand…

Suna grabs the nape of your neck and pushes your face into the pillow. He's as gentle as one can be with it, muffling your soft mewls. Some days he dreams of having you all for himself, in a room where he can charm out all these sweet sounds of you without having to worry about someone hearing you. The way you push your ass against his crotch snaps him back into reality, the grip on your neck tightening slightly in a silent warning. 

“Hush, baby,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping between your legs, pulling your panties aside to give him better access. You’re already dripping for him. “Gotta be quiet for me if you want me to eat this pussy.” 

Suna doesn’t give you another warning, just pulls you closer to him by your hips before burying his face between your thighs. He feels the jolt that shoots through your body when his tongue licks a long stripe across your cunt and he keeps you still with an iron grip around the back of your thighs. His hands are big enough to pull your folds apart with his thumbs while still keeping you in place. You can feel his breath hot and heavy against your pussy before he closes the distance again, lapping at you with fervor. 

You’re making a fucking mess out of his sheets but Suna couldn’t care less, if anything he coaxes more out of you, wanting to see how far he can take this. Only when you look over your shoulder again–these glassy needy eyes again, your breath coming out in short pants–does he pull away slightly, sinking two fingers in your tight hole instead.

“Too much?” Suna murmurs and there’s an underlying softness to his voice. His fingers still for a moment but you start rocking back and forth on them, signaling him not to stop just yet. He can tell how hard you’re trying to stay quiet and it’s adorable really, how you think he’s gonna go easy on you. After all, you crawled into his bed, right? 

“Want your cock, Rin,” you whine quietly, one of your hands moving between your legs, spreading your cunt some more for him in an invitation. Suna idly moves his fingers, curled up against your sweet spot but not enough pressure to make you cum just yet. 

“You want my cock,” Suna echos, his tone slightly mocking. his lips tug into a half-loped smile. “But I'm not done with you yet, sweet girl. You didn’t even cum on my tongue yet and you’re already getting greedy?” The click of his tongue makes you clench around his fingers and Suna knows he got you right where he wants to right now. 

With that he once again sinks between your spread legs again, eating you out like starved, eager, his moans vibrating against your cunt. He doesn’t care about breathing, just a one track mind of wanting to make you feel so good you forget your own name. He wishes you would scream his instead, but your muffled whimpers are a delight too. By now his sweatpants are already soaked with his own cum, his cock throbbing and leaking uselessly against his thigh.

He can tell you’re close when your legs start to tremble and your whines turn into sobs, begging him not to stop. It’s when you turn around slightly to grab his hair and shove him harder against your aching cunt that Suna is the one who has to swallow down his moans, his cock instantly jumping back to life from the sweet mix of pleasure and pain. He’s feeling dizzy but he doesn’t stop, not now, not with your juices dripping down his chin and your tongue fucking your hole, his fingers rubbing relentlessly around your puffy clit.

Suna isn’t so kind as to give you a break when your orgasm crashes over you, no. Sure, he lets you ride out the aftershocks of it on his tongue, but instead of giving you a moment to catch your breath he pulls down his sweatpants just enough to let his cock spring free, bouncing against the valley of your ass. Coating it hastily with your wetness and his precum he strokes himself a few times before sinking into the warmth of your throbbing hole, one hand of his flying towards your mouth and clasping over it to hold back your pitiful sobs. 

“You can take it,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, punctuated by a sharp thrust that makes your cunt tighten around him. “You can take anything I give you, right? So fucking perfect for me. Good girl.” 

It’s a beautiful destruction, taking you apart like this, and Suna isn’t so sure anymore who is ruining who now, but it doesn’t matter as long as he gets to keep you as his sweetest secret.

a/n: this was supposed to be a fleeting thought about suna eating pussy from behind but here we are

[dixonsdarkelf]

Words of Affirmation: Daryl Dixon & Fem!Reader

Summary: After you’re taken in by a group occupying West Georgia Correctional, you’re sent on a run with a particular archer. Much to his dismay, you try to strike up a conversation, and one little interaction leads you to wonder if those feelings you'd been bottling up may be reciprocated.

Main masterlist Daryl x Reader Masterlist AO3 link

Genre: Fluff

Era: Season 3, Prison era

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Swearing, I'm pretty sure that's it!

A/N: Thank you to my angel @dixons-sunshine for beta-reading for me & helping me with the parts where I felt stuck 🖤 This one was giving me a lot of trouble, and I still feel kinda eh about it. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

“What’s your love language, Daryl?”

The fresh-fallen leaves crunched under your boots as you skipped along, doing your best to keep up with your rough-and-tumble companion. Crisp autumn air swirled in your lungs as you inhaled deeply, a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt in ages washing over you. Aside from your voice and pairs of footsteps, the world around you was still. Even the birds were quiet, only an occasional chirp-chirp piercing the silence.

“The hell ya goin’ on ‘bout?” Daryl groaned. He didn’t even so much as turn to look as you strode up next to him. You exhaled softly, trying not to take his stinging tone personally.

You knew he hadn’t wanted you to come along. In the short amount of time you’d known the archer, one thing had become abundantly clear—he preferred solitude, and he didn’t like that solitude being intruded upon. But when someone needed to go on a run with him, Rick chose you, saying that since you were new, Daryl could “show you the ropes”.

“The new girl?” he’d argued. “Ya serious?”

“Show her how we do things,” Rick ordered, hands on his hips. “You’re the best one for that job.”

Rick was right. Daryl was the best one for the job, so despite his protests, he agreed. Though you knew he didn’t want you to join, you weren’t complaining.

Daryl had caught your eye from the moment you’d sprinted through those gates, running from a horde of walkers far bigger than you could’ve anticipated. He was beautiful—unkempt chocolate locks framing his face, toned, sun-tanned arms that made you drool more than any meal ever had, and crystal blue eyes so deep, you thought you’d drown if you looked at them for too long. But that didn’t stop you from sneaking glances.

Daryl only had two rules for you on this run—keep up & don’t talk. And now, you were already deep into breaking one of those rules.

But rules were meant to be broken, right?

“Your love language,” you repeated, more persistent this time. “What is it?”

He shrugged, crossbow held tight against his chest. His gaze remained straight ahead, scanning the area for walkers as you continued down the secluded dirt road. “Dunno what that means.”

You pursed your lips in thought, the furrow in your brow reflecting the confusion in your mind. Surely, someone so beautiful had to be well-versed in the world of romance. The man was sculpted like a God, and anyone with working eyes could tell that he was gorgeous. “Love languages are...” your voice trailed off. “…different ways people like to receive affection. Everyone has their preferences.”

“Ain’t exactly one for affection,” he snapped, intentionally kicking up dirt as he walked, as if that would somehow prove his point.

“Come on, Dar,” you teased, crossing your arms over your chest. You skipped a little in front of him and spun around, forcing him to finally make eye contact. “Everyone has at least one.”

At first, you’d started calling him Dar because you assumed it was a nickname of his. But he quickly made it clear he didn’t appreciate it, and that only spurred you on more. But sometimes, there’d be a glint in his eye. A little twinkle of mischief that made you wonder if he actually liked it. Even just a little bit.

As you met his gaze, that same glint was present. However, it was quickly overshadowed by his calloused response.

“And I ain’t everyone.”

Ignoring his clear signs, you pressed on, walking backwards as you continued your spiel. “The five main ones are physical touch, acts of—“

A sound in the trees caught your attention, cutting you off. But before you could react, Daryl spun around, crossbow aimed at what you both had presumed to be a walker.

Instead, it was a squirrel. The sweet creature had gotten a little too confident about jumping from one tree to another and had fallen. They shook it off for a moment before scrambling to their feet and scampering off, leaves crunching below them.

As the adrenaline began to wear off, you’d noticed something. Daryl had stepped in front of you, just a little, as if he was ready to act like a shield between you and whatever was coming your way. His bow remained locked and loaded, held high like he was waiting for another sound or for a walker to stumble out from behind a tree.

Why would he do that? He had no reason to. You were a stranger to him–a nameless face among all the other nameless faces roaming around the prison. So, what reason did he have to protect you?

Once he was sure there was no imminent threat, he lowered his bow and continued down the road, barely waiting two seconds for you to catch up.

“As I was saying,” you continued, skipping back up to his side, “there’s physical touch, acts of service, words of affirmation, receiving gifts, and quality time.”

“There one where ya dun’ talk ‘n stay silent the rest of the run?” Daryl scoffed.

“Ha ha.” You rolled your eyes, your tone bone-dry. “Very funny, Dixon.”

After a few beats of silence, much to your surprise, he spoke up. “What’s yours?”

You were more taken aback by his question than anything. And his inflection—one that sounded like he was genuinely curious—perplexed you even more. Was he really asking a “get-to-know-you” question? Daryl Dixon, the man who self-isolated on a good day & was aggressive with others on a bad one, continuing a conversation? It was unheard of as far as you were concerned.

You took a moment to collect your thoughts. “Honestly, words of affirmation. Being told how much I mean to someone, how much they care for me…even little things, like a ‘you did good’ on the small stuff.”

“How come ‘s’that one?” he asked.

“It feels good to know even the little things I do are appreciated,” you elaborated. Your eyes were fixated on some falling leaves in the distance, watching them twirl around each other, almost touching but keeping their distance—barely out of reach. “It makes me feel special. Seen. Like the things I do actually matter.” You looked up at him, squinting to shield the sun from your eyes. “And in a world like this….well, it feels like it means more. Makes me want to keep going.”

He didn’t reply, but simply nodded, understanding evident in his eyes.

The remainder of your walk was spent primarily in silence, but now, it was far from awkward. Things were comfortable, like it was natural rather than forced. The silence that previously pricked at your skin now felt like a warm hug, the desire to fill it slowly slipping away with each step. And out of the corner of your eye, you thought you spotted a hint of a smile tug at his lips.

The run went as smoothly as ever. You cleared out damn near what was left of the convenience store, just enough room in your respective bags to fit what you could find. At one point, you even cracked a joke, eliciting a scoff, with a soft, underlying laugh from him.

And the walk back was much the same—a comfortable silence with an occasional quip from you, which mostly resulted in an eye roll or huff from Daryl. Aside from a few walkers, nothing gave you too much trouble.

Later that evening, after you’d returned from your scavenge and had begun settling in for the evening, there was a soft knock on your cell, the unexpected clanking of metal causing you to jump. Turning around, you were surprised to see Daryl. The bar creaked under his shoulder as he propped himself against the doorframe.

“Jesus, you scared me!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on your chest. “But hi. What’s up?”

He didn’t speak at first, nor did he make eye contact. The tension in the air was heavy, growing thicker with each passing second. You watched him scratch at the broken skin around his thumbnail, a light cock in your eyebrow forming. You’d never seen Daryl fidgety, so…nervous, it seemed.

“Nice job today, Y/N,” he said with a small nod. “Ya did good.”

Just as your racing heart had started to slow, it ramped up again, faster than before. The rumble in your stomach from hunger warped into butterflies, flapping violently and threatening to crawl up your throat.

“Huh…” you mused, crossing your arms over your chest, using every fiber of your being to keep your demeanor calm, cool, and collected. “Didn’t even realize you knew my name.” Your gaze briefly dropped to the floor before meeting his again. “But thank you.”

He shrugged, mimicking your posture and crossing his arms. “Dun’ mention it.”

“Does this mean I can join you on the next one?” you smirked.

“Dun’ push it,” he huffed, rolling his eyes.

A small smile pulled at the corners of your mouth as his gaze met yours. It was only for a few seconds, but it was long enough for goosebumps to form on your skin and a shiver to travel down your spine. He was the first to break it, diverting his eyes to the floor.

You broke the silence with an awkward clearing of your throat, softly shaking your head like you were trying to direct your mind away from the direction it was headed in. “Goodnight, Daryl.”

With another small nod, he sauntered off, dragging your cell door closed behind him. His heavy boots echoed through the otherwise silent concrete halls, trailing off until it was only you & your very loud thoughts.

And as you crawled into bed and drifted off to sleep, you visualized the grumpy, brooding archer, thought of the way the ice had started breaking between the two of you, and you fell asleep with a contented smile.

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract @dixons-sunshine @tinysunshine @stellar-waves @chateaujoon @mediocrxtes @angelsanarchy @8stliv8 @dixonsbridexx @cuntee3

Hit me up to be added to or removed from the taglist 🖤

Collage at the top (though I do not own the photos--those were found on Google) and © below were made by me. Sparkle & ‘continue reading’ dividers are by @/anitalenia

[punkrockmlchael]

NSFW Alphabet - Emperor Caracalla

Masterlist | Fred Hechinger Characters Masterlist

Emperor Caracalla x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Mentions of: Sex, Cum, Sex Positions, Masturbation, Mentions of Blood, Kinks, Oral (male and fem receiving), and probably way more, probably not super historically accurate (sue me), afab reader, I'm a sucker for sweet Caracalla so sorry that's what I rolled with!

big thanks to @keeryhours + @the-witty-pen-name + @medievalharlot + @prettycalla (oh wise caracalla one) for looking this over and helping! love you all my girlies

Word Count: 3039

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Caracalla is actually very cute after sex and wants to be as close to you as possible. He has this secret sweet and soft side to him that he will only show for you—typically after sex. He loves to hold you close to him (if he could crawl into your skin, he would) and loves to rest his head on your chest with his arms wrapped around your waist. He also really loves you when play with his hair, it makes him purr like a cat before he eventually falls asleep.

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Caracalla, being the man that he is, definitely has a favorite body part of himself. And honestly, it’s his dick. He’s very… well gifted by the gods in that aspect and he really loves being able to please you in that sense. He’s gifted and he knows how to use it which makes him a tiny bit cocky in that sense. Bonus points because he can actually make you scream so loud that one time, the guards came in because they thought something bad happened. And Caracalla had the smuggest look on his face when you, the Empress, needed to tell the guards you were fine and that Caracalla was just… really good at pleasing you. When it comes to his favorite body part of yours, Caracalla likes your hips. Whether you are with him at the games, with him during a feast or a party, his hands always seem to find your hips. One hand as you're standing beside him in all your glory, both hands as he guides you through a crowd, both hands as he holds you down in bed; it doesn’t matter. He loves to hold you close, hand on your hip as his fingers softly rub circles against your skin.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Caracalla loves to cum inside of you, always. He loves the small gasp that escapes your lips when he does it, he loves when your legs wrap around him tighter, keeping him in place as you literally milk him for every last drop that he has. He just loves knowing that he’s the only one that gets to do this to you and because of that, he will always be sure to cum inside of you. No, like, even if you go down on him, he won’t finish in your mouth because he would rather finish inside of you.

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

Caracalla has a bit of a thing for blood… that’s not really a secret. And while he would never hurt you on purpose, he really does enjoy when some sort of blood is involved. He’s just always been drawn to it and has always gotten excited at it and the thought of it. So much so that he absolutely goes feral for period sex; no really. It doesn’t matter what time of the month it was for you, Caracalla is always up for having sex with you and worshiping your body. And when his cum meets your blood and trickles out of you and onto your thighs? Yeah… he loves that. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

Carcalla has definitely been around the block a few couple times. He’s been with plenty of people before you and him were officially together and married and that definitely makes him good in bed. He knows not only how to make himself feel good, but he also knows how to make you feel good. The first time you two had sex together he made you cum at least three times… from his fingers, from his dick, from his tongue; Caracalla just knows how to please you and he will always ensure that you are pleased and screaming his name to the gods above.

F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying):

For Caracalla, this really depends on the day. Any position you two are having sex in is his favorite position but if he had to choose he really enjoys missionary because he loves to be on top of you, holding down against the bed as he thrusts in and out of you fast and deep. He loves being able to hold your hips down against the bed and place hot and sloppy kisses over your neck and upper chest while having sex. However, on the flip side, Caracalla also quite enjoys having you on top of him during sex. He loves gripping your hips and helping you move up and down as you bounce on his dick freely and he loves being able to see himself thrust in and out of you with each bounce you make. His hands can move from your hips to your boobs, squeezing them while you’re on top and that’s also something he quite enjoys. To be completely honest, as long as he is able to be inside of you and his hands are able to be on your body, he’s pretty content in any position you two do it in.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc):

It is no surprise that Caracalla has this light for life that not many others do. He is often called childish, but really, he sees the fun in the most mundane of things. And because of that spark that he has for life, he is often a smiling and giggling mess when it comes to sex. Yes, he enjoys pleasing you and being pleased himself, but that doesn’t stop the small giggles and smiles that he has during the intimate moments with you.

H = Hair (how groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc):

Caracalla is a naturally hairy man—and he’s okay with that and so are you. He has hair on his chest, his stomach, his lower stomach… everywhere. When it comes to below the belt he definitely doesn’t do anything to fix it, he believes he is made how the gods wanted him to be so he will always just let it grow out naturally. And he loves when your hands run over his body and body hair, scratching at his chest and stomach gently. He lets everything grow freely as it should, as the gods intended, per say. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Caracalla is always making sure you are comfortable and happy during sex. He loves to be with you and worship your body like you were a true walking goddess. Soft kisses left on your body, his hands slowly moving over the curves and divots of your body, gentle squeezes that make moans and gasps fall from your mouth… Caracalla does it all. He loves loving you and pleasing you while you love and please him in return.

J = Jack Off (masturbating):

Caracalla isn’t opposed to masturbating, he just never seems to have any time to do it. When not doing his duties as an emperor, he seems to be with you already and if he’s craving something, he can just have you. On an occasion where he is really horny and makes it back to your shared private chambers before you he will rub one out but that’s not super often for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Breeding Kink. Caracalla is always always wanting an heir, he is doing anything and everything to ensure he gets one. And, because of them, he just loves to cum inside of you. He loves to watch you squirm underneath him while he’s finishing and he loves it when you stand up afterwards and his cum is trickling down your thighs. On occasion after he pulls out he will just… stick his fingers inside of you to keep anything from dripping out. Caracalla also has a slight submissive side to him. Maybe it stems from always being in Geta’s shadow, maybe it stems from who he is and how he grew up but he just loves to let you take control from time to time. It’s not always, and it’s typically after he has had a long day or a bad day where he just wants to be loved and cared for. He’ll let you do literally anything to him in that moment while he clings to you for love and support. You’ll be so soft and sweet, taking care of him when he needs it most. 

L = Location (their favorite places to do the do):

Caracalla really loves to have sex together in the typical places: your shared bed, the bathtub in your shared bathroom, you know all the normal places like that. He loves when you two get a break and time to yourselves to enjoy some love and intimate time in the bathtub but he also craves you climbing onto his lap in bed. If you could crawl onto his lap and take him on his throne, that would actually make his life complete but alas, that hasn’t happened… at least, not yet.  

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): 

Anything and everything will get Caracalla turned on, no, like literally. Whether he is at the games, at a banquet, at some party, almost anything will turn him on; especially if he is with you. Being around you, watching you interact with others, watching you interact with him, watching you do your duties as his Empress—you truly turn Caracalla on just by being yourself. You just have this overall radiance about yourself that he absolutely adores; you hold yourself at this high standard that he finds extremely hot.

N = No (something that wouldn’t do, turn offs):

There is very little, if anything, Caracalla wouldn’t do in bed if you asked him to. He is kind of sick in the head and likes just about anything and everything, but if it’s something you two try and you don’t like it, he’ll be sure to not do it again. He is very open and honest in bed, and he loves when you are as well because it makes him feel good knowing you trust him with what you like and dislike.

O = Oral (preference in giving, receiving, skills, etc):

Caracalla really loves it when you go down on him. He just loves to see you on your knees for him, ready to please and worship him like he is one of the gods. He loves to watch you work your magic on him and please him with only your mouth; a beautiful smirk on your face the entire time. And, he prefers finishing inside of you but on the rare occasion that he does finish in your mouth… he is literally a mess as he watches his cum drip down your lips and chin. Oh, Caracalla also loves going down on you, he loves pleasing you and tasting you while your fingers slide through his hair, tugging on the locks gently (or roughly). He really enjoys receiving and giving when it comes to oral but if he had to choose… he would choose receiving just a tiny bit more than giving. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc):

Caracalla can go either way. If he has been craving you all day, he will go fast and rough claiming you as his own as quickly as he can. He’ll be fast, he’ll be deep, he’ll be rough—he will take all of you for himself and his own pleasure. If he has had a bad or rough day, he will go slow and sensual to truly savor every moment with you. He’ll take his time, running his hands up and down your body as he leaves soft and sweet kisses over your entire body. Caracalla just takes each and every round of sex with you as it comes, going based on what you both need and want in the moment.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc):

It’s not that Caracalla is opposed to quickies, you two just never seem to be able to have them unless it is in the early hours of the morning before your actual duties are needed to be attended to. He would love to be able to sneak away from his responsibilities and take you somewhere in the palace but it’s just not super realistic, unfortunately. So, for now, he’ll stick to his quickies with you in the morning, making sure you cum at least once before the day begins… and to his longer nights with you, making sure you’re a moaning and cumming mess before crawling into bed next to each other to retire for the night.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc):

Caracalla is always down to experiment and take risks in bed, he actually encourages it. He loves to try new things with you and is constantly looking for new things to bring to the bed to please not only himself but also you. It doesn’t really matter what it is, he is definitely down to try everything at least once. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

Caracalla could pretty much go on for ages and ages, round after round. Maybe it’s from all the rounds he has had before you two got together, maybe it’s from how his brain works—there is no clear answer. But, you do know one thing, it doesn’t matter, he will be ready for you. And, if he’s not super exhausted, you better believe you are getting at least two rounds of sex before bed. Sometimes more. It really all kind of depends on the day. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or on themselves?):

Caracalla is not super big into using toys, mainly because he hasn’t found any that he enjoys for himself. That, and, if he was using toys and they worked for you he would think that he’s not helping you and not good enough to please you on his own. All of that being said, Caracalla will probably never whip out any toys in bed but, hey, he knows what he wants and what he likes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Caracalla teases you without realizing that he’s doing it. His hands always seem to be on you in some way, shape or form because he loves to show you off and let everyone know you are his. And, he’ll do that with a hand on your hip, a hand on your waist, a hand on the small of your back; his hand being on your body constantly is a bit of a turn on for you, especially when he starts rubbing circles on your skin. He has yet to realize this is a form of teasing you but if and when he figures it out, he might just do it more to formally tease you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc):

Caracalla is not super loud in bed, but he does make quiet gasps and low groans occasionally. When you are on top of him, bouncing on his cock he will gasp and throw his head back, and small groans will leave his mouth when you speed up or slow down your movements. Curse words and praises also seem to leave his mouth each time you are together in bed. He is fairly louder when he cums, though, moaning your name a little too loudly that you’re fairly certain all of Rome hears him and knows how well their Empress pleases her Emperor. 

W = Wild Card (a random headcanon for them):

Caracalla tries to be subtle and discreet but he is such a huge oversharer, and most times it’s not even on purpose, it just kind of… happens. He is just always talking about himself and his private life to anyone that will listen and, unfortunately for you, that means more people know about what happens with you and Caracalla behind closed doors than you’d like to admit. It’s funny, really, people don’t know what to say when Carcalla starts talking but also, they don’t know how to shut him up either. He’s just a huge oversharer, especially when he’s happy about something that has happened.

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Caracalla is huge, definitely as he says, how the gods wanted him to be. He’s fairly long (definitely a bit longer than standard) with some slightly above average girth to him.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive):

Caracalla is such a needy and clingy man, he literally would have sex every day if you let him. He just loves seeing you adorned in precious jewelries and fabrics, the thought of taking you out of everything you wear sets him off and makes him want you more and more. If he gets any time alone with you during the day between his duties of being an emperor, he is spending it running his hands over your body, leaving kisses on your neck and whispering how much he cannot wait to see you in your shared private chambers later that evening. If he is extremely touchy and needy all day there are times where you’re already waiting for him in one of your best silk gowns at night and within a minute, he is ready to tear that gown off of you and toss it to the side. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Caracalla passes out the moment your hand is in his hair after sex. You’ll play with his fiery locks, running your fingers through them gently and slowly and he’s out like a light. He’ll snuggle against you, arms around your waist with his head on your chest as soft snores leave him. And, once Caracalla is asleep, you better hope you’re comfortable because any little movement you make causes him to grumble and pull you closer to him. No, really, you won’t be getting up until Caracalla is ready to get up.

emperor caracalla taglist: wanna join? click the form here! ; @prettycalla ; @medievalharlot ; @alexa0813 ; @yearsbecomingcool ; @bumblebeeswrite ; @losingmygrasponreality ; @samslvrgirl

[wolfish-trickster]

Hello! If you’re still looking for fic ideas, could I suggest an idea where Astarion and the Reader get separated from the group. They’re feeling a bit hopeless at first while wandering around, but it ends up being a bonding moment with some banter thrown in. 💕

I finished it 😭 I'm so sorry it took this long but it was such a good prompt and i had so many ideas popping up. Hopefully you'll like the one i stuck with. Enjoy <3

Stuck in a shortcut

Astarion x reader

Word count: 3.2K

Summary: out of all the people of your group you just had to be stuck with the sassy vampire in a an old cole mine. But who knows, maybe this little annoyance could turn into a bonding moment.

Warnings: fluff, humor

Let's take a shortcut, Gale said. It would be fun, Gale said. What he didn't say was the cole mine you assumed would've lead you through an entire mountain was older than all of you combined and would collapse once Karlach sneezed too hard. No one was hurt, thankfully, but a whole different type of problem appeared: rocks from collapsed ceiling trapped two of the group on one side, deeper into the tunnel. It wouldn't be too bad if you were stuck with any other member.

"Oh splendid. Trapped in a festering hole in the ground surrounded by filth and darkness. Almost feels like home," Astarion gestured dramatically. Well, you couldn't see him in the pitch black darkness but you knew him well enough to know he was gesturing around.

With arms outstretched you walked until you felt the fallen rocks blocking the narrow passage you've just passed. "Gale? Karlach? Wyll? Can you hear me?"

"Loud'n clear," Karlach yelled back, followed by a grunt. "But these rocks won't listen to me. Ha, get it?"

You chuckled a bit, despite the situation you were in.

"Ha ha," Astarion laughed with a heavy dose of sass. "I'm glad we're all having fun. I would be too if it wasn't for the ceiling choosing to identify as the wall."

"I'm sorry," Gale shouted through the blockage, "I didn't expect this to happen."

"Well, is there a way to get us out?" You asked and tried to pull some rocks out of the way, but none of them would budge.

"Affraid not," Shadowheart has made her presence known, "Karlach has even tried to melt them, but these stones seem to be more than ordinary."

Well that's just fantastic, you thought and hit your forhead against the cold stone in desperation. There's a, what, 50% chance your group has made the wrong turn and you've entered dead end again? You've ran into at least three since you've entered the mines, despite having a map. The chances of the tunnel you were stuck in is the one that will lead you to the other side of the mountain was pretty slim, even slimmer with no map.

A dull thud pulled you away from your calculations followed by Astarion's painful grunt. "So you mean to tell me I'll be stuck here with no map, no light and only one tiny snack to live off of while you fix the situation you put us in?"

"You did not just call me that," you snap at him.

"I meant my wine, dear. But if you consider yourself a snack~"

You groaned.

"I've checked the map!" Wyll shouted. "According to it you're in the correct tunnel! Just keep on walking forward and you should be out by the end of the day. Make no turns and you won't get lost."

"Good job soldier!" Karlach praised him and, based on the hit and Wyll's wheeze, playfully slapped him across his back.

"Are you sure? There's still a chance the map's wrong."

"Or that he is," Astarion said under his breath.

"Trust me. Just go. We'll meet you on the other side."

And with that you got separated not only by rock but also by distance.

"Is it just me or his 'we'll meet on the other side' sounded a bit ominous?" You asked to break the ever growing awkward silence.

Astarion sighed. "To be completely honest with you even the other side would be more appealing than this."

"What's your problem?" You turned into the general direction his voice was coming from. "Aren't you a nocturnal predator? Your eyes should be functioning perfectly in low light."

"Low yes," he said too sweetly, "not zero," ah, there it was. That low almost unnoticable growl in his voice whenever he grew too irritated.

You sighed and reached into your travel sack for matches or anything that could make a fire. With the small flame in hand you swiftly found a wooden beam which fell along with the ceiling, wrapped it in some spare shirt and you had a makeshift torch.

"There, now we got light, no need to be scared anymore," you teased and waved the torch around to taunt him.

He yanked it out of your hand with a scoff. "As if I could be scared of a bit of darkness. Do you even know what I am? Now let's get going before you loose your youth here."

You made no comment on how much the torch's light trembled in his hand and followed after him through the narrow tunnel.

For the first couple of meters both of you were quiet. You were a quiet person over all so that was normal but Astarion to be quiet? You started to wonder if he inhaled some gasses and grew sick.

The walls were getting narrower and narrower. As Wyll advised you ignored all turns and alternative paths and only walked straight ahead, even if the wider passages looked extremely tempting. There were moments where both of you had to squeeze in order to pass. During those Astarion's hand shook so much you were affraid the torch would go out.

After some more time chills started to cover your whole body. The clothing on you wasn't nearly enough to warm you up and the exit out of the mountain with the warm sun was too far into the distance. The only source warmth was currently in Astarion's hands.

"Hey, could you give me the torch for a while?"

"No."

"What do you mean no? I just want to hold it."

Astarion stopped and turned to face you. "With how much you've been tripping for this entire walk your clumsiness would put it out leaving us completely stranded. No, thank you. I'll hold it."

"Alright, first of all your big back is blocking most of the light so technically me tripping is your fault. And second of all I just want to warm up a bit."

"Ugh," Astarion rolled his eyes and passed you the torch. Being closer to the fire felt pleasent. The heat kissed your face and you could finally feel your fingers again. You wanted to continue this little walk however his body still blocked the narrow passage.

"Uhm, could you, ya know," you gestured with the torch which Astarion hypnotised so much he reminded you of a cat watching a dangling toy, "move?"

"Why?"

"Holy hell, so we can get out?" You exclaimed. How can someone like him be this dense?

"Nu uh, not with you being the torch master," he wiggled his forefinger in a 'no-no' motion infront of your face.

You groaned. This man...

"Listen, if you also want to be warmed up by it we can just share," you offered him the torch, "I'll hold it here and you can hold it above my hand."

"That's extremely kind but how do you plan on going through all these narrow passages joined at the hip?" He folded his arms over his chest. "I'll take it after you've warmed up enough."

"Seriously? Ugh, you're unbelievable," you shove the torch into his hand even though you've just barely warmed up. For someone as ancient as him he sure acts childishly. But fine, if him holding the damn thing means you'll get out of here faster and be on the actual warm sun then you could stomach some underground chill. "Are vampires like lizards or something? Would you go immobile without it?"

Frowning Astarion turned his back to you and walked ahead. "This isn't about warmth."

"Then about what?" You asked but got no response. 'Like a child,' you thought.

You've walked for about fifteen more minutes until you finally got a new sound out of Astarion besides whining and grunting. "No."

"What?" You asked as you desperately tried to squeeze yourself between two boulders. How could miners much bigger than you even work in this place?

"No, no, no, no," Astarion kept repeating as he ran further away from you.

"Hey!" You yelled after him. "Wait up!"

He stopped but not to wait for you. After you finally got free and got closer to him you saw why: a wall. A dead end.

"Wyll, you horned idiot," Astarion punched the rock making it crack but nothing more. "Keep on walking forward my ass."

"Hey, maybe we've made the wrong turn," you put your hand on his back but he flinched so you pulled it away. "Mayve we got distracted and entered the wrong tunnel. You know how many intersections we walked by. We just need to return to one of them and try the other way."

"Maybe this, maybe that," Astarion mocked. "Don't you get it? We are buried here. For eternity. I know a mind like yours can't comprehend such a time frame so I'll simplify it for you: for a freaking long time!" He yelled out of desperation. "But hey, the bright side is we have a nice spacious grave. Better make yourself at home darling," he sat down criss crossed and slouched.

"Why do you give up so easily? We've ran into dead ends before and made it out. We can do the same again," you took ahold of the torch but he wouldn't let it go out of his grasp. "Astarion, come on."

His grasp didn't loosen.

"Why are you like this? You said this was a grave. And what do vampires do the first thing after they become one? They dig their way up out of the grave! This is your thing so come on! I can even leave the torch to you just please get up," you tried to cheer him on and give him a bit of a hope.

"Yes well it isn't exactly my thing since I had to be let out of one!" He growled and yanked the torch out of your hand completely.

You stumbled and landed on your knees, now at the same eye level with him. The fall wasn't exactly the most graceful though as you felt the sharp pain climb from your knee caps up your body. "What do you mean someone had to let you out," you said through pain, more to distract yourself while you rubbed your injuries rather than from curiosity.

Astarion opened and closed his mouth, realizing he's said more than he'd wanted. But after a moment he sighed. "I guess telling you will do no harm since you'll literally take it to your grave," he chuckled at his own joke but you noticed his eyes, dull and pained.

"At the begining of this all," he gestured at his vampiric traits, "I've met someone on my nightly hunt. A darling boy. I haven't met anyone as sweet as him. I refused to bring him to Cazador so I ran. But he caught me and forced me into a tomb, not much wider than some of the passages here," he nodded towards the two rocks you just squeezed through. "He kept me there alone, cold, in utter darkness for a whole year. A year of lonliness and hunger. Sometimes I was so desperate I drank my own blood."

You listened intently. Astarion didn't talk about his past often but whenever he did it broke your heart. That's why he was so against entering the mines in the first place. That's why he made those uncomfortable noises whenever he had to walk with the walls closing in on him like a mouth of a beast.

"Well," you moved a bit closer to him while maintaining some distance between you two, "at least you got me here with you. We can play word games or do shadow art. Or you can dine on me after I starve to death."

Astarion scoffed with a smile, appreciating you not fishing for more details from his past. "I admit that would be a very delicious feast," he purred but teasingly nudged you at the same time.

You smiled and layed your head on his shoulder. After some hesitation he rested his own head on yours and both of you stared into the fire he held. The flames danced and swirled creating nice calming patterns of yellow and red. It casted shadows of all sizes on the walls all around you. Behind the narrow entering you noticed a slight glint. You got an idea.

"Hey, let me try something," you said and stood up walking towards the small sparkle in the dark.

"What are you doing? Where are you going?" Astarion also stood up sounding almost worried.

"Relax, I just think I saw something. Wanna come investigate with me?"

He pondered a bit. Then, after realizing he has nothing to lose he followed you. Both of you squeezed again through the walls, now mindful of Astarion's trauma and giving him a hand to pass as quickly as possible. The more fire got towards the glittery stone the less it sparkled. A nice paradox of the nature. But further down the hall you noticed some more sparkling.

"Hey, do you want to feel more comfortable in the darkness? You know, associate it with something nice instead of horrendious?"

He side eyed you. "Go on."

You pulled him by the elbow towards the source of the small glitter. As you expected it was near an opening to a room sized hole miners dug and upon finding nothing valuable abandoned it, leaving it as is.

"Go in the middle," you pointed, "and give me the torch."

He squeezed around the wood, not keen on your little idea. Reluctantly he gave it to you and did as you told him.

You stuck it into a small hole in the ground just behind the corner, letting it emmit just enough light entering the hole for Astarion to see wonders.

And sure enough once you've entered the room yourself Astarion was gazing amazed all around himself. All over the walls around you were tiny specks of a mineral known to glitter in low light. There were so many you felt like you were outside staring up at the endless starry sky. "Much better than the camp, huh?" You said.

Astarion didn't make a sound, only nodded.

Wanting to give him some space you exited the starry cave and went back to make sure the torch had enough clothes to still burn. Astarion walked out soon after, a sense of peace on his face. "I-" he started but needed couple more seconds to collect his thoughts. "Thank you."

You smiled and nodded. If you'll die here you might as well give him a nice experience before that.

After feeling sentimental he cleared his throat and put on his usual demeanor. "Let's explore our future grave shall we? Some never have the opportunity to get to know their resting place and we can't let our own go to waste. Maybe we'll find a pirate treassure or better yet an actual exit."

"That's the spirit!" You offered him the torch but he shook his head.

"Your chattering teeth could lure a cave bear and we can't have that, can we?"

Both of you knew that was bullshit but you didn't argue. You were just happy you got to the source of warmth again.

The warmth didn't last for long though. After some more passes and wrong turns the flame started to flicker. Not knowing if you had clothes to spare and use on a new one you tried burning anything you could, paper from your journal, herbs Shadowheart left in your sack. Knowing the fire won't last long you turned towards Astarion.

"I guess we'll have to cut our exploring short. Are you okay?"

He took a deep breath in, not used to people asking him about his comfort. "I'm fine. I will be."

You nodded and faced him again, looking at him for what could very well be the last time. He's coldblooded, he'll survive. But without the fire you would surely freeze to death. Or starve. Whichever will come first.

Holding the dying torch you hugged yourself to keep warm a bit longer.

"Cold?"

You nodded. "A bit."

"Well," he said and stepped closer to you, "you've helped me associate the darkness with something nice. So, as a thank you, let me," his fingers brushed against your hand holding the torch, "warm you up."

Leaning in he pushed the almost dead torch away, making it hit the ground and putting out the few flames it had left. You felt his breath on your lips, heart pounded in your chest. With your eyes half closed in an anticipation of a kiss you looked up, gazing into his glinting eyes getting closer and closer. Wait, glinting? But the fire was out, there's no light to cause his eyes to glint.

Your head snapped towards the tunnel and sure enough you saw a tiny dot of light right ahead. Ignoring Astarion's complaints about you turning into a moving target you took him by the hand and together ran towards the exit, like moths flying to a lamp.

Finally you were out. The sun was already low, few more minutes and it would've set completely. You were lucky Astarion decided to be lovey dovey at that exact moment. You closed your eyes and let its last rays warm your cool skin. "I think I understand now."

"What was that?" Astarion asked.

You opened your eyes and looked at him. He was basking in the sun just like you were. "I understand why you always choose to be on the sun all the time."

He nodded and smiled a bit. Sincerely. Not before making a snarky comment about you needing to spend some hours in a freezing cold mine to finally have some empathy for poor old him. Though, despite how annoying he could be and how much he complains he hasn't let go of your hand. His thumb even brushed the back of it.

"It'll be a long time till the rest of our friends come over here," you remarked and looked up the mountain.

"Oh, are you suggesting something?" Astarion asked with a smirk that told you no pure thoughts were left in his mind.

You smirked. "I could think of a thing or two," you stepped closer to him and while he focused on your lips moving closer to his your hand sneaked behind him and stealing his travel sack. "Got your tent!" And with that you sprinted away.

"Oh you little minx," he yelled out and ran straight after you. "Get back here!"

You zigzagged between the trees trying to escape him, but there's no escaping a pissed off vampire. Once he caught up to you he hooked his arm around your waist and pulled both of you down to the ground on a small blooming meadow. You laughed. And even though your little mischief left Astarion irritated he started chuckling as well. The two of you layed facing eachother on the meadow, surrounded by flowers until stars came up.

Astarion watched the stars dance in your eyes and counted in his mind. The first time he emerged from a dark tight hole in the ground was the begining of the worst time of his life. The second scarred him and left him broken. The third might as well be the time he got truly reborn.

[watching-spn]

spn s6 bingo card update!

okay so i made this bingo card before starting s6 and now i wanna take a moment to talk about it after finishing the season. for some of them i'm not totally sure whether i can cross them out or not, but yeah, let's try:

"dean wanting to bring sam back from hell" -> yeah, dean admits to have tried to bring sam back in that one year between 5x22 and 6x01, because he didn't know sam was already back. and after he finds out that sam's soul is still in the cage, he does everything in his power to get it back

"michael isn't dead and he's very pissed off" -> yeah idk, i guess this one's also true because he's just in the cage, so not dead (as i understand it, angels are only dead when they're actually gone? like, neither in heaven nor hell or whatever else, so i'd say he's still alive, just not free). and i think you could say he's pissed off, considering the damage he did to sam's soul in there

"dean and cas hug" -> well, no. we were robbed.

"chuck is either god or in danger" -> yeah lmao no chuck in the entire season, guess he's just useless now that the whole prophet-thing is kinda outdated with the free will/no apocalypse thing, so maybe he just vanished because his purpose is gone? idk, kinda wanted to know why the fuck he just disappeared into thin air but okay thanks (i mean there are still more seasons, so maybe he'll come back. not counting on it though)

"bobby being absolutely done with the boys but helping anyway" -> lmao always, we even got a whole episode of this

"time travel" -> yup! the whole titanic thing of course, but i'd say the most prominent time travel ep was the one where they visited samuel colt

"dean gets slammed against a wall" -> i mean, he's been beaten up and probably been smashed against walls often enough, but i only count the ones that have at least a bit of homoerotic tension, so sadly none in this season as far as i recall

"bloody cas" -> oh yes. 6x19 where the jefferson starship attacks cas and dean just cuts its head off from behind and splashes cas with blood. yeah

"dean dies again" -> yeah (6x11 when he wants to talk to death). when doesn't he?? i think that's the only thing one can be sure of when watching this show

"sam at the very end of 5x22 was actually lucifer" -> ok no

"dean praying to cas" -> yeah like all the time. but somehow i want it to be more intimite (?), yk as in him being alone and sincere about it and not just "hey castiel... could you come down for a sec?", i want him on his KNEES

"sam fucking a monster" -> surprisingly not. cas does kiss a demon though

"really powerful cas" -> oh i cooked with this one. wasn't thinking about god level power but damn yeah

"dean crying" -> i think so? i think he cried when lisa almost died. i could be wrong though

"adam is dead" -> since he's not alive, i guess he's dead, yeah. not saying he can't also come back, but yeah, dead at the moment

"god dies" -> still don't even know who/where he is, soooo no

"sam having trauma" -> not at first, but the second the wall to his memory of hell breaks down this boy is nothing but a big ball of trauma

"dean and lisa break up" -> yeah, i was pretty sure he would lose her and ben somehow :(

"archangels being assholes (raphael??)" -> ha i called it! i figured since michael and lucifer are in the cage the next one who was gonna fuck up their lives would be him

"hell flashbacks" (not flackbacks lmao, sorry for the typo) -> mostly just sam on fire but yeah

"cinematic showing of cas' wings" -> yesss 6x15!!! love it

"lisa dies" -> almost, but fortunately we have cas and his healing powers!!

"crowley kissing more guys" -> i'm certain he did, but we didn't get to see it :(

"more intense destiel eye sex" -> in my opinion jensen and misha can't do a scene together without their characters doing that. so yeah. it was there

so in conclusion: bingo!(?)

this was actually fun so maybe i'll do this again for another season!

[vodika-vibes]

For The Love Of A Selkie

Summary: Howzer knows there’s something super sketchy about his neighbor. The man is a drunkard with violent tendencies even when he’s sober, and he’s about 85% sure that he bought his wife. After all, she always looks so sad, all of the time.

Pairing: Captain Howzer x Selkie F!Reader

Word Count: 2534

Warnings: Mentions of domestic violence, kidnapping, trafficking

A/N: So, I had an idea and needed to get it down. Which is how this fic was built. Sorry if it's not great, I'm recovering from the mother of all migraines.

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“Good morning, Captain.”

Howzer looks up from where he’s tying his sneakers as the familiar, almost musical, voice drifts over the hedge from the house next door.

“Good morning, sen’ika,” He offers the slight woman a kind smile, “You’re awake early.”

“Oh, well,” She glances away from him for a moment, “I wanted to water the plants before the sun gets too high.”

She has a new bruise on her cheek, Howzer notices. And he twists his lips, “Goddard got drunk again last night, I see.”

She laughs hollowly, “Believe it or not, he’s better drunk.”

“I just don’t understand why you don’t leave.” Howzer lowers his voice as he notices her anxious glance towards the house. The last thing he wants is to be the cause for her to get hurt even more.

Sorrow crosses her face, edging into despair, and Howzer feels about 10 inches tall. Her life is hard enough without him adding to it.

“There’s no where to go.” She finally says, after she takes a moment to wipe the grief from her face and replaces it with a fake smile.

“Your family—” Howzer trails off and shakes his head, “Never mind. Just know that you can come to me if he gets to be too bad.” She beams at him, and his heart skips a beat.

She’s dazzling.

Mesmerizing, even.

Her husband doesn’t deserve her.

Hell, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t deserve her. But at least he’d treat her like she deserves to be treated.

“You’re kind, Howzer.” She says lightly, and he ignores the way that his name falling from her lips gives him goosebumps. “I’m glad you are. It would be all too easy for me to end up hating people—” She trails off with a sigh.

“I think most people are kind. You just...got unlucky.”

The smile she shoots him is a little odd, “More so than you might imagine.” One of the lights in her house flickers on, and her shoulders slump as if an unimaginable weight just landed on her shoulders, “Have a nice run, Captain.”

“Sure. I hope you have a nice morning—”

The screen door slams open, and Goddard glares down at his wife, “Useless woman! You haven’t made breakfast yet?”

“You hate eating breakfast—”

“I want it this morning, and get me a beer too.”

“I—yes. Of course.”

“A bit early for beer, don’t you think Goddard?” Howzer asks wryly, “It’s not even 6 am.”

He releases a booming laugh, “Well, you know what they say about it being 5:00 somewhere, right? You should join me!”

“If I show up for work drunk, I’ll have my ass handed to me.” Howzer counters wryly, “Have a good day, Goddard. I need to get going.”

“Sure! Sure! Sorry if the wife was bothering you!”

“Ah, I like hearing about her plants. Maker knows that I have a brown thumb after all.” Howzer offers the much older man a half wave, and then steps off his property and onto the sidewalk. “See you around, Goddard.”

“You too, Howzer!”

Howzer might hate the man, but he’s pretty good at being polite with people he can’t stand.

He exhales slowly, pops his earbuds in, and starts the music on his phone. And then, with one last glance towards Sen’ika’s house, he starts his run. He wishes there was more he could do for her.

But his hands are tied.

And then, several months later, Howzer finds himself invited to a cookout, held by Goddard. And, as much as he would have preferred to tell the man to take a long walk off a short pier, he goes anyway.

For one simple reason.

The bruises covering his poor Sen’ika have become more common. And he’s pretty sure he saw burns on her forearm the other morning.

“How do you like your steak, Howzer?” Goddard asks from where he’s standing in front of the grill, “Normally, I leave all the cooking to the wife. But grilling is a man’s job.”

He’s very drunk, already.

“Oh, I like mine cooked to medium,” Howzer replies as he slowly sips his soda, his gaze following Sen’ika as she carries food and drinks from inside the house to the buffet table outside the house.

She’s limping.

“Hey Goddard,”

“What?”

“How many people are you expecting? Your wife made a lot of food.”

“Oh, seven or eight other people said they would come.” He replies dismissively, “Though, I got texts a little bit ago saying that they weren’t actually going to come. So I hope you like leftovers.”

“I’ll never say no to free food.”

“Ha! I remember being 20 years old and saying the same thing.”

“I’m 25.”

“Same difference. You’re still a kid.”

“Your wife is younger than I am.” Howzer points out, flatly.

“Ah, she doesn’t count.” Goddard waves his hand dismissively again, “She’s not really human, after all.”

“...I’m going to need you to explain that.”

“She’s a Selkie.”

Howzer stares at the older man, blankly, for a moment, “Are you drunk?”

“Ah, just a little buzzed.”

“Selkie aren’t real. They’re a myth.”

“I thought that too. But nope, I managed to get my hands on her coat, and now we’re married for life.”

Howzer is quiet for a moment. This is so much worse than his poor Sen’ika being a mal-order bride. She’s, literally, a prisoner. “What’s stopping her from taking her coat and just leaving?”

“Ah, don’t you know that myths?” Goddard points his spatula at Howzer, “You gotta hide the coat so they can’t find it. And then you got yourself a perfect wife.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“You can say that because you’ve never had to worry about finding a girlfriend.”

Howzer rolls his eyes, “So, where is it?”

“Hm?”

“Her coat. Where is it?”

“Why?”

Howzer ignores him, “It’s obviously not in your house, or else she would have taken it and run off already. And you wouldn’t keep it at work, too much risk of it getting lost. So...do you keep it on your boat?”

Goddard is silent for a long moment, “I think it’s time you left, Howzer.”

“Oh, but you invited me to dinner.” Howzer counters, his voice like ice, “I would hate to be rude and leave you with all of this wasted food.”

“Get off my land,” Goddard snaps, “And stay away from my wife!”

“You don’t own her, Goddard. I’ll do what I want.” Howzer stands and then pauses, “Also, if you don’t stop hurting her, no one is ever going to find your body.”

“Are you threatening me?!” Goddard demands as he draws himself to his full height.

Howzer flashes a smile that’s all teeth, “No. Of course not. I’m making you a promise.”

“Get!”

Howzer meeting his Sen’ika’s wide, frightened, eyes and offers her a small, reassuring, smile. And then he leaves.

As soon as he turns the corner of the house, he hears the sharp sound of skin against skin, and a cry of pain. “Get all this stuff back in the house, woman! And don’t you think, for one second, about ever speaking to that boy again. Or I’ll give you something to cry about—”

Howzer grimaces. He really didn’t mean to make life harder for her. And, as much as he wants to turn around and beat the absolute shit out of Goddard, he doesn’t. Instead he leaves their property and turns to head towards the marina.

The best way to hurt Goddard is to make sure Sen’ika gets her coat back.

Sure, he’ll miss her when she’s gone. But at least she’ll be alive.

Everything hurts.

Your loving husband has been on a tear since the dinner party the other night. You’re not sure what Howzer said to him, but whatever he said has pushed Goddard into being even crueler to you than he ever has been before.

You’re pretty sure that your bruises have bruises.

And the burns on your left forearm are never going to heal if he doesn’t stop with the fire and the hot metal.

A silent sigh falls from you as you crouch next to the orchids your mother-in-law bought you as a wedding present.

They’re dying.

Like you, they don’t belong here.

You want to go home. You’d give anything to feel your mothers arms around you, or to go swimming with your father, or to race with your siblings again.

But it’s your own fault. You never should have trusted Goddard.

You just didn’t know that humans could be so cruel.

Well, not all humans are cruel, you suppose.

A tiny smile lifts your lips as you remember the way that Howzer looks at you. They way his eyes soften when he sees you, and the way his voice gentles when he talks to you.

You wouldn’t mind being married to him.

But then, Howzer’s the kind of man you could give your coat to, and you wouldn’t have ever had to fear that he wouldn’t give it back.

You haven’t seen him in a couple of days, now that you think about it. You allow your gaze to drift to Howzer’s house, which has remained dark since the day of the dinner party.

You hope he’s alright.

You turn your attention back to the dying flower, and you lightly touch one of the petals. It won’t be long now before the flower dies completely. No amount of love and care will encourage it to live longer.

“I don’t think orchids are are native to this area.”

You muffle a startled yelp at the sudden voice behind you and as you turn around you fall back onto the ground.

Howzer is standing behind you.

He’s...filthy.

Covered in dirt and dust and nursing a series of bruises on his face that weren’t there a couple of days ago. Not to mention, there’s blood on his shirt.

He’s also still wearing the shorts and tee shirt that he had been wearing at the dinner party, and his sandals seem to have been lost somewhere. In fact, the only new thing is the bag tucked under his arm.

“Howzer? What...where have you been? Are you okay? You’re bleeding!”

“Hm? Oh this?” He lifts the bottom of his shirt, revealing a clean bandage around his side, “I was minorly stabbed.”

“You were stabbed?!” You scramble to your feet and reach out to touch the bandage, panic threatening to choke you, “Are you okay? What happened?” You fall silent when his free hand presses against your cheek.

“I’m alright.” You look up at him, your eyes wide. His face is soft, and he’s looking at you like—well, like how your father looks at your mother. Like he loves you. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“You were stabbed—”

“It was worth it.”

“I—you—Howzer, that—” You find yourself at a loss for words. Surely nothing is so important to risk getting stabbed.

“I have something for you.”

“...what?” Now you’re even more confused. You can’t think of anything that you need that would require Howzer to get stabbed.

“Here. This is yours, isn’t it?” He offers you the package under his arm, “Sorry it took so long, there were quite a few that needed to be returned.”

“—what are you talking abo—” You stop mid-sentence as you open the cloth bag. Inside, neatly folded and carefully oiled, is your coat. You can feel a lump in your throat, and your eyes burn with tears. “—my coat. You found my coat.”

“Found and rescued.” Howzer gently wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, “It was a whole organization. Scummy men and women stealing coats of your people, and then locking them away where you all wouldn’t find them. There were almost 100 of them. I needed to recruit my brothers to help return them all.”

“Why?” Your voice is choked with tears, and you know you’re about to fall apart.

Howzer’s smile is warm and his other hand comes up to cradle your face, “No one should hold you here against your will.” His smile broadens, “You can go home, Sen’ika. No one can stop you now.”

“Howzer—”

“I’m going to miss you. But the knowledge that no one will ever hurt you again makes it all worthwhile.”

You stare at him. Really stare at him.

And then a laughing sob falls from your lips, and you surge forward and fling your arms around his neck. And crash your lips against his.

“Thank you,” You whisper against his lips, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You’re crying even as you speak against his lips. You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy, and so heartbroken, in your life.

His arms close around you, “You don’t have to thank me for being a decent person.” Howzer replies against your lips.

“Yes, I do.” You pull back and wipe your face with the palm of your hand, like a child. “I’m never coming back here. Ever.”

His smile becomes slightly wistful, “I don’t blame you—”

“But you’d better come visit.”

“I...what?”

“Tradition dictates that the person who gives us back our coats is proposing to us,” You say as you look up into his eyes, “Surely the others mentioned it too you.”

“They also said no one follows that tradition anymore, and they haven’t in centuries.” Howzer replies.

“But…” You pause, “What if I wanted to marry you?”

“I would say, “let me woo you, first.”,” He replies.

You curl your fingers in the material of his shirt, and think on his words, “Alright then.” You finally say, “I’ll let you date me, but that means you still have to come and visit. My family, all of the families, will want to meet the man who saved us.”

“Deal.” Howzer lightly bumps his forehead against yours, “You really want to marry me?”

“You look at me like how my father looks like my mother,” You reply, “I want that kind of love.”

He huffs out a laugh, “I suppose I haven’t been subtle.”

“Not at all. But humans generally aren’t.” You say reassuringly.

Howzer leans in and steals a kiss, “You should get going. I’m sure your parents miss you.”

“Yeah.” You hesitate, “Be careful. Goddard is more dangerous than he looks.”

A cruel little smile crosses his face, “Don’t you worry about that. All of the men and women who have kidnapped you, and the other Selkies, have been arrested for trafficking.”

You blink at him, stunned, “I—what does that mean?”

“It means, my beautiful Sen’ika, that you never have to worry about Goddard again. Because he’s never going to see the light of day.”

For the first time in years, it feels like a weight is lifted from your shoulders. “Will you walk me to the beach?”

“Anything for you.”

As you leave the property of the place that had been a prison for you, you look up at Howzer and grin at him, “Howzer,”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

And, for the first time since meeting him, you see a blush darken his face, “Yeah, yeah. I know.” He glances at you, “Me too.”

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[fictionadventurer]

Fun Catholic Lord of the Rings trivia for you:

Tolkien had a devotion to St. John the Evangelist (which should not have been surprising, given his name).

Traditionally, the symbol of St. John the Evangelist is an eagle.

There's no indication it's intentional allegory, but it does add a very cool layer to those scenes.

[free-luigi-mangione]

also i'm losing count of exactly how many NYPD officers have been charged for falsifying evidence in different cases, and are getting reported in the last few days

[semi-completely-original]

this is how i envision childe and skirk's time together in the abyss went

[thebitchlapin]

The one time (up to all three times if you also count Noah and/or Sylvester) any of Ally's PCs have had romantic feelings for male characters that relationship was already established before the start of the campaign and I like to think (because it's the funniest interpretation) that that's because for the life of them, Ally cannot figure out how to play someone falling in love with a man

[sysig]

what if you drew the cutest little mettaton. possibly shitty despot king mettaton looking sooo cute on his throne. or adorable shy ghostie mettaton. or literally any mettaton. what then.

Day 9 - Teeny Tiny Tyrant

[townofcadence]

The first time you change, do you even Remember how to be Human? Do you really really believe you can be again, once you've opened a door you can't close?