#I know it’s December but my mind’s eye wanted beaches

[iz-does-art]

Something a little more sketchy, but fun nonetheless! I’ve had beach shenanigans on my mind for the past few days, so here’s my Muriel-centric doodle page for it! I feel like they’d love the beach and find so many joyous things about it. (I may or may not also possibly write a little bit for this idea)

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 1/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No school? Check.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deserves better. 

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

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

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

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

Luke Hughes loves summer.

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

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

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

He does love living with his brother.

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

And he really is grateful for that.

But, God, can he be annoying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing.”

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

“Fine, it’s Ellie.”

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

“She’s refusing to hang out with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know her?”

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

Not the truth, but not exactly a lie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,”

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

“My name’s on the lease.”

“Maybe you could talk to her for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Since when do you work here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Five minutes of your time?”

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

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

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

Who doesn’t love a shortcut?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know who you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about ‘em?”

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

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

Us. Oh, he likes that.

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

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

“A nudge, then?”

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

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

“Are you here to eat or annoy me?”

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

“How profound.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is fun. 

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

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

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

“We could make a competition out of it.”

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

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

“Whoever actually gets them together, wins.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t see that happening.”

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

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

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

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

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

But God, you were pretty. 

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

“I’m Luke.”

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

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

“Depends who’s asking.”

“I’m Luke.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I know her.”

“Clearly.”

“This is her basket.”

“Does she need to sign for it?”

“No, I-,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has you figured out, by now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack swats at his arm and rolls his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cole Caufield being one of them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn. You walked yourself right into that one. 

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

“You wish.”

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

“I think you’re an idiot.”

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

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

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

“Good for her.”

“Alone.”

“No shit.”

“To ask her out.”

“Whoop-de-doo.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How could you possibly know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you find out?”

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

“Does this mean we’re teammates?” 

“No. It absolutely does not.”

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

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

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

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

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

Much better.

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

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

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

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

So it has to be for him and Jessica.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was I not supposed to?”

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

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

“Well done, you can read.”

“Why?”

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

“So?”

“He’s on a date.”

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

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

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

“To get his hair cut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

“Any food?”

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

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

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

“Thanks, Cara, that’s everything.”

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

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

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

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

“Won’t he complain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In your dreams, Hughes.”

Luke sort of envies the charm you hold over people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That would usually drive him crazy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re really keeping score?”

“You’re not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She started it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wasn’t feeling it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you get to that conclusion?”

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

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

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

“Like what?”

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

A death wish might actually be an understatement.

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

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

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

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

“What, that?”

“You’re so dead.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not something you really love talking about. 

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

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

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

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

Interstellar. 

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

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

“Me too. I love space movies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re gonna be so shocked.”

“Sports movies?”

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

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

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

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

“Only if I get to ask one back.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

>PART TWO<

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

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

[hoe4sports]

“Take my heart, dont break it”

Alexia Putellas x reader

A/N: You voted and picked Alexia. This is a series based on Myles Smith song called stargazing. No triggers. P2 here.

The fresh Barcelonian air was flowing into your hotelroom as you found yourself sat in the frame of the window m next to one of your teammates, Alexia Putellas. You were both sitting together in silence with your eyes closed soaking up the morning bliss. The sun was slowly waking up as the gentle rays felt like a warm cup of cocoa in December by the fireplace with a book and a blanket. Not too warm, not too cold. You were taking in all the fresh salty air you could possibly fit into your lungs before exhaling through your mouth. It felt blissful, peaceful; like a morning mindfulness class. You could smell the gentle strawberry scent from the tea Alexia had made you when you got up in time for sunrise. You and Alexia had known each other forever. You grew up with her and Alba next door and you had religiously played football with Alexia for your whole life. You did it all together: High school, college, Barcelona and the national team. You sat together on buses and flights. Even though she was entitled to her own hotel room as captain; she still wanted to partner up with you.

“Can I interrupt your peace?” Alexia asked as you opened up your eye to see her still in the same relaxed position with her eyes closed. “If you must” you said as you giggled. Alexia sighted. “No, no, go ahead big al” you corrected as you looked out on the beach below the hotel.

“I’ve been having some issue with Olga; she seems spaced out. She’s there, but she isn’t really there. It’s strange, I don’t really understand and she keeps insisting that everything is all good. I dont honestly know what to do.”

You could sense the tension in the room as the Catalan poured her heart out to you. It was like thunder from a crystal blue sky. They seemingly had the picture perfect relationship. Amazing vacations. Nice cars. Fancy dinners.

“It’s just, I know it’s selfish but I can’t stop my mind from wondering if she is cheating on me. She’s always on her phone, and she deleted her location off of the life360 app.”

You spent a second figuring out what words Alexia wanted to hear and what she needed to hear. It was clear as day that you needed to knock some common sense into her. Who would cheat on one of the hottest women in the world of football? Nobody could ever be able to commit to adultery without anyone taking notice of their famous girlfriend.

“Ai, Ale. Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear or what you need to hear? Pick your poison capitana.”

You looked over at her. She was still sitting in the sun in the window while taking on the fresh air. Her chest rhythmically rising. Her brown eyes were still closed and her blonde hair was up in the messiest Lucy Bronze style bun you could imagine making the sight of her almost wanting you to giggle.

“Hm, buena pregunta…Tell me what I need to hear.” Alexia said softly as she opened up her eyes to look at you showing off her worried grin. Her body language changed. Like she was getting ready for a fight.

“Estúpida, Olga loves you! She adores you. She practically worships the ground you walk on. You need to talk to your girlfriend, and you need to tell her what you told me.” You finished as you looked at her with an attitude.

Later that day at practice, you were doing drills with Claudia. It was evidently warmer now, and you had popped off your shirt to avoid getting overly warm. You kept passing the ball at the right time in the right height to help Claudia with her first touches. It was always fun working with Claudia. Her humor was incredible and if her humor didn’t do the job; her infections laugh would. As you passed the last ball to Claudia, she ended up whacking the ball senseless and the ball went flying into the open field. It caused you to laugh hysterically as Claudia flopped down on the grass. Claudia was a vibe; you got along so well and she’d been like your little sister.

The next practice begun at the gym, and it was individual programs. You, Alexia, Claudia and Ingrid has the same program for the day meaning that you partnered up together. You noticed that Alexia seemed distracted. At first, she had placed the weights in the bench press without securing them causing them to go flying off the pole. The next situation was when she tried filling her waterbottle from the water cooler and she overfilled in for a good 10 seconds before she caught the little spill. The last situation was when Claudia was doing squats and Alexia was supposed to be spotting her right side as you spotted the left. The weights were a little heavier than what Claudia normally lifted so you expected her to need assistance. After four lifts, Claudia went for the fifth and it caused her to fail. You grabbed the pole from the left side as the younger girls hands were wobbly violently to hold up the other side of the pole. Alexia didn’t caught on. “Alexia” No answer. “Alexia for fucks sake, help!” You yelled causing Ingrid to shove her away to help you with the spotting.

In the warderobe that afternoon after everyone left, you decided to stay behind and talk to Alexia again. Alexia liked taking her time in the shower so it wasn’t uncommon for her to be the last woman standing. You approached her as she stepped out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around her lower half leaving her chest open.

“Ale, you have been distant. You could’ve caused an injury. What’s going on?” You crossed your arms as you stood in front of her with a stern look on your face. The feeling you had wasn’t something you could shook away easily. You just couldn’t act in situations that maybe had happened. That wouldn’t be fair to Olga or Alexia.

“Ai, Y/N, it’s just hard. I’m in my head and Olga is too busy to talk. I cannot shook the feeling I’m having in my gut. But I need to trust Olga, right?”

You nodded. Olga hadn’t done anything that wouldn’t give her chance to explain herself. For all Alexia knew, this was all just a big misunderstanding.

Olga was amazing, you knew her from before her and Alexia started dating, and they were perfect for each other. Olga was always so perfect, almost to the point where it annoyed you. Olga was picture perfect and rarely looked out of line or did Alexia wrong. Alexia’s observations were however not unlikely. A few weeks ago you went to a new restaurant with Claudia, and you could’ve sworn you saw Olga with another woman. You couldn’t be sure though because you had excused yourself to the bathroom to get a better look, but when you got out of the bathroom; The mystery woman was out of sight. Quite frankly, she had also been out of mind.

That was until now however, but it couldn’t have been Olga. Olga was sweet, genuine and had a heart of gold. You couldn’t wrap your mind around what Alexia had said, but you could also not tell her that you might saw Olga. You were having an internalised conflict of trying to decided whenever to tell her or not. You didn’t want to seem pushy and like you didn’t like Olga, but you didn’t want Alexia’s heart to break either.

At least, that was the lie you continued to tell yourself.

[allwaswell16]

Happy Fan Fic Writer Appreciation Day 2024!

The first lines of some amazing fics by some of my favorite 1D writers! Since I've done this post for so many years, this year I limited it to fics that were published in the last year or so. Please check out the past years' lists here where you'll find even more incredible writers! Thank you to every writer in our fandom for your gifts of fic to us all!

Louis hung up his keys and coat as his cottage door closed to protect himself from the drizzle.

He’d only given in because he was lonely.

The sun sat low in the sky, bathing the expanse of beach in warm, golden light. 

Louis looked around the room, waiting for the others to laugh and let him know that the last ten minutes had all been an elaborate joke and of course they weren’t serious. 

Harry’s thighs burn.

Harry Styles was a star.

Harry Styles has standards. 

The man in the video was annoyingly chipper in the face of what seemed to Louis to be imminent disaster. 

The first time it happens isn’t even intentional.

Louis Tomlinson strived for perfection in everything he did.

Liam Payne doesn’t know how he got here. 

Standing in front of the second-hand mirror hanging on his closet door, Harry looks himself over. 

If she was being honest, the last thing Harry wanted to do at the moment was get ready to go out.

It had been a good idea when he’d agreed to it.

Louis tilted his head up and took in a deep breath.

Bosworth Academy for the Well-Bred Omega sits upon a hill overlooking the quaint town of Kinsey in county Durwin.

Stumbling through the door, Liam dragged the sweat soaked vest over Zayn's head, pushing him back against the wall.

It’s December first.

He gets sent home.

Life wasn’t supposed to be like this.

All Louis’ life, he’s known he’s been different.

Liam is in the middle of fucking nowhere, the two-lane highway stretching ahead and behind him, as far as the eye can see. 

When Harry first tells him, Zayn isn’t sure what to think.

Spending his Saturday night with an older man who was not his father was never what Harry Styles pictured his mid-twenties to look like.

Louis rolls over on his back, sighing in frustration as he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand.

“Wait! Please don’t go!” 

Waking up from rut is a bleary, confusing experience. 

He knew scrolling through his phone so soon would only end in disaster, and yet he opened Instagram anyway.

There’s music echoing throughout the rink, an instrumental Disney song.

The telly is on when Louis comes home, keys jangling in the lock as he swings the door open and kicks off his shoes into the haphazard pile by the mat. 

“So, what did you have in mind?”

Two essential tips for anyone planning to take a nighttime stroll: don't forget to bring a heavier jacket, and make sure your phone is fully charged.

The large fluorescent lights groan awake high on the ceiling overhead as Harry flips on the light switch.

“You heading home, mate?” Liam asked as the movie ended.

Louis curls his hands around the balcony railing, tilting his head up to let the slanted rays of the evening sun catch on his face.

When Harry opened Niall's door, a combination of warm air and cologne greeted him.

“Harry? Are you home, love?”

It was the first day back after Winter Break, and Louis did not want to be here.

Louis has been single for 369 days, and the last place he wants to be is at a wedding.

Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate.

Even before Louis presented as an omega, he’d dreamed of one day finding his soulmate.

Authors in order of first lines:

@nouies @jaerie @disgruntledkittenface @2tiedships2 @haztobegood

@lululawrence @daggerandrose @homosociallyyours @alwaysxlarrie @thelavendrhaze

@fallinglikethis @kingsofeverything @becomeawendybird @reminiscingintherain @louandhazaf

@thedevilinmybrain @laynefaire @londonfoginacup @ladyaj-13 @jacaranda-bloom

@voulezloux @phdmama @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @parmahamlarrie @crinkle-eyed-boo

@uhoh-but-yeah-alright @absoloutenonsense @all-these-larrythings @beelou @justanothershadeofblue

@galacticlarry @persephoneflouwers @letthemusicmoveyou28 @enchantedlandcoffee @shimmeringevil

@imogenleewriter @lunarheslwt @red-pandaaa @loveislarryislove @hellolovers13

[goldengleams]

a fic with clingy trevor?

vacay vibes | t. zegras

My spring break plans failed to make it out of the gc so here's this while I wish I was on a beach😭🏖️

With the All-Star break about to start, you were excited for the extra time you would have with your boyfriend, Trevor. It wasn't his fault that he was always busy, and you were fairly busy with college as well, but you both knew that you could use some rest and relaxation for a few days, just the two of you. Trevor had planned a little trip for you two back in December and had surprised you with it for Christmas. A trip to Hawaii was a perfect gift that you both needed more than ever.

Now, you stood at the door of your beachfront rental that Trevor had booked and watched as he walked up the sand with his surfboard.

"Catch any waves, Zegras?"

Trevor looked up when he heard you, eyes wild as always. "You saw that big one? It was crazy!" Trevor planted his board in the sand and jogged over to where you were lounging in a beach chair.

"You wanna come surfing tomorrow? Then we can do it together," Trevor said excitedly. He plopped down in the chair next to you and shook his wet hair out.

"Trevor!" You squealed. He paid you no mind, even trying to pull you over to sit on his chair with him.

"No, absolutely not, T! You are wet and smelly and need to get that wetsuit off," you protested. Trevor pouted in response. Oh how you had missed that face.

"Shower with me," he said, not missing a beat. He started pulling down the zipper on his wetsuit to expose his chest.

"Trevor, I already showered this morning."

"So? It's 80 degrees, we could both use a shower!" Trevor successfully pulled you over to his beach chair at this point, and you sat on his lap.

You pushed up your sunglasses to give Trevor your best deadpan. His hazel eyes took in every part of your face, unable to concentrate on just one aspect.

"You're clingy," you mused. You and Trevor were always touchy with each other, that wasn't the surprise. You just hadn't been used to his urgency in quite a while due to the start of the semester.

"Maybe," Trevor said quietly. His hands danced across your skin, relishing in the fact that your daily attire had become a bikini on this vacation. "Just missed you. Missed having you at the games and giving us our good luck charm."

You chuckled. "I don't know if I'm the good luck charm, Z. The Ducks aren't doing as bad as last year, at least."

"I don't even wanna talk about hockey. We need a whole new team," Trevor groaned. You knew he constantly beat himself up over the losses his team racked up and the last thing you wanted to do was to stress him out on his vacation.

"Okay, no hockey in Hawaii," you laughed. "And I missed you, too, T. I'm glad my classes won't be taking up too much time anymore" you smiled. You pulled him into a soft kiss, which quickly turned passionate. Trevor's hands found the sides of your bikini way too quickly and you slapped him.

"Okay, if you want to be clingy then you have to go shower, get this wet suit off, and then make lunch with me. Deal?" You asked, raising your eyebrows in question. Trevor nodded enthusiastically.

"Whatever you say, baby!"

[icarustypicalfall]

December

Alejandro Vargas x reader

masterpost • Ao3

Summary: And only when you feel like there is nothing left, you'll find me waiting for you, I'll make it feel like home.

Or

Where Alejandro comes home, because home is you.

Warnings: SFW, bath scene, sweet fluff <3

Note: I die for the unsexual ways of showing intimacy. I tried a new style, not really sure of it, but i just love this trope; where A washes B's hair and takes care of them in a non sexual way, and they are both comfortable and happy :( <3

“Be still my foolish heart

Don't ruin this on me”

The journey from the base to home was long, uncomfortable, and, above all, tiring. Alejandro shifted, letting out a deep sigh as he rubbed his eyes, careful not to touch the still numb cut on his forehead.

The medics had urged him to get his wounds stitched up, or at the very least, checked. But he dismissed it as pointless, with only one thing on his mind: coming home to you.

As soon as the debriefing ended, he hopped into the nearest car, beckoning Rudy and some other vaqueros to join him. A younger member, barely awake, asked, "Where are we going, colonel?" Alejandro gazed at the purple sky with a knowing smile and replied, "Home."

Home.

Alejandro was the colonel, but that didn't mean he didn't care. If anything, he was the exact opposite. He checked on every member, praising some and ordering others to go straight to their family houses to rest. Los Vaqueros were his family, he celebrated their joy and grieved their sorrow as his own.

Even in his most exhausted moments, Alejandro never forgot about his long-time friend and second in command, Rudy. He made sure Rudy reached his family, sain et sauf after every mission, as he had done for the past twenty years.

Alejandro sighed, stopping at the side of the road to check his phone after the last vaquero had left. The background was a selfie of you and him, licking ice cream under the moonlit sky.

You never understood why he liked this picture so deerly, he's been gazing at it for the last two years, whenever he was away from you. As if your sweet smile comforted him and buried his dark thoughts somewhere only you knew.

If anything, it was a sweet picture, tongues out, wide grins, your hair sticking to your foreheads, a proof of the swimming session you two had beforehand.

He remembered it perfectly—the day you got married. Instead of going home, he insisted on going to the beach to have your own celebration. It was surprisingly warm and deserted. Time didn't matter to you—three in the morning. You danced, swirled, and swam in the dark water with your dress on.

To hell with makeup and his suit.

All you wanted was a laugh and a kiss under the moonlit sky. And you never found it lacking, not once, after meeting him.

You were both madly in love. Two fools swimming in an ocean of sanity and adoration. You completed each other. You longed for each other.

Alejandro reached home after the long journey. His muddy boots left traces on the doorstep as he fumbled for his keys, trying to be discreet. It was almost midnight, and he didn't want to wake you—or any of the neighbors.

Before the key even grazed the hole, the door slowly unlocked.

You gazed at Alejandro with a calm smile on your face and uttered, "Welcome home, colonel."

You were silent, still. Gazing at the astonished man. You promised, never quitting this habit of waiting for him.

He complained, nonsense about how you should rest and let him surprise you and bla-bla-bla.

You didn't give in his pleas, not even once.

You were always waiting at the doorstep, every ounce in your body craved a glimpse of your beloved husband.

Alejandro grinned, stepping inside and letting his bag fall to his side. His arms found their way to your sides, sweeping you off your feet and crashing you into his chest as he murmured, feeling a sense of peace wash over him, “Mi mondo… mi todo...”

The embrace was a burning fire, melting both of you into one. Alejandro closed the door with a kick of his heel, slowly stepping into the warm flat.

You cupped his cheek, running your thumb over the cut on his temple. He winced slightly, his eyes shutting before he uttered, "It's nothing...mi amor."

You shook your head, knowing his stubbornness was just a cover to hide his pain. Not because he was afraid of being vulnerable to you, he simply didn't want you to worry. He wished for you to live your ultimest youth, without a single cloud of onus to disturb your shining sun and skies.

You were a Phoenix to him, healing every scar and cut with your gentle touch and soft whispers.

"Come with me."

You guided him upstairs to the bathroom.

The room was hot, steamy with fog clouds floating around you. The black marbelic walls were covered with small beads of water vapor, slowly racing down to the ground.

Alejandro leaned against the door, resting his against the hard material with a long and tired sigh.

You checked the water temperature, motioning for him to climb in the tub. He steeped closer, gazing at the surface of the colorless liquid. His face emerged, and he couldn't help but chuckle. He cupped your cheeks, smiling wearily. "Mi amor, you didn't have to..."

"I wanted to..."

You ran him a warm bath, filled with devotion to the brim.

Just the way he liked it, with oils and conditioner that he enjoyed smelling on you. Alejandro adored every detail about you. Somehow, you had captured his mind and soul within your hands. Your little gestures only served to deepen his affection.

You helped him take off his dirty, blood-soaked clothes—thankfully not his own. The military uniform fell to the floor, followed by his torn shirt. He sighed deeply, shivering slightly as your hands trailed over his scarred skin, the cold sensation leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He remembered when he brought you to the beach, embarrassed about his battle scars, thinking you'd be disgusted by the cuts on his skin. But instead, you cradled his flesh with merciful tenderness, Washing away his worries through kisses scattered on his back. He held back his tears, letting you heal his skin and carve a lasting memory in his mind.

Back to reality, Alejandro smiled at you, his eyebrows furrowing in question at your grinning face. He was wearing cat-printed shorts, and you couldn't help but laugh as he blushed slightly.

There was no tension, no other thoughts, not at this moment at the very least. This precious moment was too good, too perfect to be tainted and corrupted by any sin, even if it wasn't a wrongdoing anyway. He saw it no other way, and neither did you. You helped him wash away the weariness of duty, making him feel at home. Could he ask for more?

Alejandro slowly submerged himself under the water, his head lazily resting on the edge of the tub. He gazed at you, silently observing your every movement. He missed this, missed you deeply. No words could express how desperately he longed for your presence.

You held the shampoo bottle, scooping some product into your hands before lathering it into his now wet hair. He shivered, letting out a contented sigh. You massaged his shoulders, washing away the aches of war and leaving nothing but love that cascaded down his shoulders like honey.

Silence filled the house, the only sounds audible were the hushed breaths he took and the occasional dripping of water from the sink. Finally, wrapped in a large towel and smelling of fresh grass and vanilla, Alejandro sat on the edge of the tub as you searched for band-aids in the small box. He chuckled wearily as you placed a green plaster on his temple.

Standing between his legs, you cupped his face, examining his very being before whispering silently, "I love you, thank you for coming back."

Taken aback, he kissed you, your lips intertwining in a gentle embrace of madness before he uttered, "Thank you for waiting, mi todo."

It was around 2 am, as you lay in bed. The scent of warm chumpurados filled the room, igniting in his soul and heart a longing for home. But, would he complain? He was indeed at home, for his heart and mind resided with you.

Alejandro placed his mug on the nightstand before resting his head on your thigh. You ran your fingers through his dark locks, gently caressing his hair.

Alejandro leaned in, murmuring nonsensical words against your limb. His gratitude was beyond imagination. Without you, he would be lost, despondent. He found his missing piece with you, you little thief, stealing his heart and claiming it as your own. He didn't mind in the slightest, willing to sacrifice his very essence for your sake.

Silently, you asked, "Is something on your mind, mi amor?"

He whispered instantly, his fingers intertwining with your form in a tenderness that would make the clouds shy away. "You... mi cielo."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you broke the silence once more. "I know, mi amor. I meant, is there anything bothering you?"

"No. Nothing at all.. when I am with you, I am so much happier…”

[buglass]

Lonely Man - A Christmas Oneshot

Summary: A passive and respectful fan encounters a lone Elvis Presley on a beach in the Bahamas while both are on Christmas vacation in 1969. Jackie debates whether or not to bother Elvis, but feels drawn to keep him company.

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Jackie!Black!OC

Chapters: 1/1

WC: 907

Warnings: Insinuation of depression, general fluff and kindness, lack of holiday cheer

A/N: Not a big fan of the holidays myself since I’ve always been away from family since I was in the military. Still feeling it a little bit this year so this is how I’m coping lol thanks for reading!

Unexpected Chapter 2.

Inspired by this and a few other photos from E’s time in the Bahamas October 1969.

December 25th, 1969

❆   ❆   ❆

When she spotted him, she didn’t think it was actually Elvis Presley. The black dress shirt he wore was a stark contrast to his skin and white trousers. Keeping up with the whereabouts of celebrities wasn’t her forte and this man, only seeing him from his side profile, looked slightly less like the spruced up version the world had come to know. Don’t get her wrong--she still thought the man seated in the sand was handsome but a lot paler than she would have expected for a Bahamian vacation in the sun. 

Elvis hunched forward with his feet buried in the sand, his sleeved arms wrapped around his pant-covered legs as he looked out to the water. Jackie was between a rock and a hard place on the mostly empty beach. When a woman and her family came from the opposite direction, they didn’t waste time to make their approach to Elvis. It wasn’t their fault they stumbled upon him either. Because they too were on vacation, they actually had a camera on hand to commemorate the once in a lifetime event. 

Jackie slowed down, busying herself with the wispy skirt blowing in the wind and the straps of the shoes she held. She faced the water as she took the hair tie from her wrist and tied her hair back into a ponytail. There were a total of three snaps she could hear from the camera, Elvis standing there for each picture both posed and candid. Elvis hunched over, waving to the blonde little girl who was probably only about four years-old. As the fans left, he stood up straight and looked around as if he were expecting a floodgate of fans to follow. 

They were alone again.

Jackie started down the beach again, veering toward where the water could wash over her feet. When she glanced up again, Elvis was looking at her. His hands were at his back, sliding lower into what she assumed was his back pockets. She became highly aware that he was overly dressed for the beach while she wore a bikini, her lower half shrouded by the long, breathable skirt that in the right light showed some leg. Elvis moved in her path and her heart rate picked up knowing that her only option was to walk around the singer. 

Her eyes dipped toward his chest and the hair there, coming back up the closer she got to him. When the two of them were face to face, Elvis’s mouth curled into a smirk. 

“What do I owe the pleasure of your attention, Mr. Presley?” Jackie spoke casually as if they were old friends. 

“I was gettin’ ready to ask you the same. I saw you down the beach before all of that.” Elvis admitted, dropping his arms to his sides.

“I think you’re the one stopping me for my attention now,” she laughed, stepping around the man for the sake of making him follow. “I will leave you to it.”

“Hey, wait-wait a minute,” Elvis said, turning after her to walk at her side. “Can’t you stay for a while?”

“I was just making sure you didn’t feel obligated to have company, Mr. Presley--”

“Elvis, just Elvis.” He put up his hands.

“Alright, Elvis. But, as I was saying, I don’t want you to feel…bombarded.” Jackie said. She slowed up to face him, admiring how he towered over her and his general warmth. Fuck, he was good looking, she thought.

“It’s never any bother, but I could use the company. If you don’t mind?” Elvis gestured toward the sand. 

Jackie squinted up at him, skeptical of what someone of his caliber would want with her. She swept her skirt as she lowered into the sand, dropping her sandals at her side. Elvis followed suit only after she was seated and he sighed as he looked out toward the water again. 

“What’s your name?” Elvis asked.

“Jacqueline, but I prefer Jackie.” She explained softly.

“Well, Jackie, what’s more fittin’ of the Christmas Spirit than spendin’ time with a stranger?” Elvis chuckled.

“I… I think some would say the opposite, but ‘tis the season.” Jackie laughed. She was pleased by his easiness, the way he was turning a moment that clearly bothered him into a positive. She looked at him square in his face and furrowed her brows after a second. “So…why are you alone out here on Christmas?”

“Sometimes it’s good to learn to live with yourself, honey,” was all he said at first. “... But I s’pose I’m not very good at it after all.”

Jackie gave him a sidelong look for a second longer before slowly reaching for the exposed part of his arm. She understood the dreariness of the holidays tended to outweigh the excitement of gift-giving and cheeriness. When she looked at him, she saw a man that was far, far away. Elvis finally looked at her and she caught the sadness in his eyes. She would have thought someone as successful as him was immune to feeling down. But when she squeezed his wrist and his arm moved so they were holding hands, Jackie was reminded of just how human the superstar was.

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart. This is just a bad day, not a bad life.” She promised gently.

“Thank you, Jackie. Merry Christmas.” He gave her a small smile.

“Merry Christmas, Elvis,” she said, leaning over to press a reassuring kiss to his cheek.

[kittenmittenmeowchu]

─────────────────────────────────

Kafka x Reader

　　⠀. 　　　　　.　　　　　 .⠀ 　　　　　　　　　`　　⠀. 　　　　　

　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦ 　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　* . 　　　　　　　　　　

　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　 ✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀ 　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀ New year's grant ✦ ⠀

─────────────────────────────────────

──────────────────────────────────────

It's new year's eve, the night where the worlds grow loud, and the screams of the people are heard by our universe. In the clause of celebration continuing it's roll, the cycle of life.

I sighed, a bitter relief that im about to surpass another year. I used to celebrate this alone, screaming at the top of my lungs on my balcony as fireworks exploded from the city beach

I look at my phone

____________________________________

11:46

Wednesday, December 31

____________________________________

I sigh before swiping up and took a few taps. My phone started ringing as I wait for someone to pick up, only to be sent to the voicemail. I clicked my tongue and ended it. Frustuations hovering. "she' s been gone for days... Is this really work? Or did she actually leave me?"

But as time passed, memories of kafka seeped into my mind. The moments she spent with me, and the efforts she's done for me.

I haven't been the best with her have I...?

I look for her contacts, and tapped to call her once more. But as it sends me to voice mail. I sigh.

"So much has happened... Things that I've never even thought of going through." My heart felt like it was being squeezed, with tears pickling my eyes threathening to spill.

I let out a shaky sigh and my nostrils felt like it was about to get stuffy.

"I know how much of an idiot I've been, and I don't have the right to say this but please...."

"Come back..."

____________________________________

Kafka

[▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• 00:31]

Voicemail sent.

-delivered.

____________________________________

I stare at my voice message for a while, my tears drying as I start to dissociate from the feelings I've felt just now. My thumb swipes down, seeing my previous voice mails. All of the voice mails include of me begging as I cry for her to come back. Then I turn off my phone. Staring at the dim lighting casted upon my walls. the silence was deafening. I had no air conditioning to give white noise. Nor was the electric fan any helpful since it was broken. I didn't even have enough money for the rent. A surge of shame fills me through, making me scream and fumble to grab back my phone and repeatedly press the screen. I feel the sweat building in every crook of my body, the uncomfortable feeling that I meet too often.

As the black screen emits with colors. I see, for the first time in a while, she's seen my text. A sudden thrill courses through me, my heart beats fast as I expect for her reply.

Then I turned off my phone, bating my breath with a small smile of celebration. 'no.. I shouldn't expect anything.... expect nothing, expect nothing.' I repeat in my head, attempting to overshadow my excitement. Although, there's a small part of me that's counting every second for her reply.

'It's not at all a small part of me... I can't keep it in... should I text her now? she isn't typing or doing anything.... is she actually listening to my voice mails?'

a whirlpool of questions flood my brain, a hypnotic feeling I couldn't deny.

... I want to know what she's thinking.

I began to type.

Kaf_

I paused, the sight of a white bubbling text, It made me erase every idea I've had. I removed my text, letting the chat bubble close, as I wait for hers.

Pop.

The message notification resounds in my bedroom.

"Unlock your door."

I sprung from my seat, leaving my phone on the bed as I ran towards the door. But as I stood on the door mat, I felt nerveous. What was going to happen? there were so much possibilities.. She could be mad, she could be here to gather her things...

A few knocks tugged me out of my trance, determining me to focus just how things are. So I unlock the door and pull it open.

Staring down on the shoes, I knew it was her. I look up, seeking any sort of answer. And before I could even linger. Her arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight. I felt as if someone stopped in amidst the snow, and snuggled with me under my ragged blanket. The warmth of another, the kind of heat that I knew would stay no matter how cold it could get.

"I missed you..." I muffled against her clothes.

She hushed me, cooing the words "I know, I know."

Her words brought me with little comfort than I thought It would. As there was a slight tremble in my hands in hesitation, I still hugged her with the same pull she had on me. My grip was crumpling her clothes, I knew I shouldn't but I couldn't let loose... Not when I thought I lost her.

I loosen my grip on her clothes.

"where were you... You didn't you call me or even try to send a small text." I asked in worry, furrowing my brows, I lift my head to see her face. There I met her gaze, the eyes I've longed to see again. It made my tough act falter.

"It's..." she paused, looking away from me.

"I can't, I'm not ready to tell you just yet..." She spoke with such reluctance, I've never seen her like this. The distant look she had, made my stomach churn. Suddenly I felt the cold breeze through the open door.

"But I'm not late for new years eve am I?" She smiled her hands shifts on my waist as it shifts my focus on her words. I watch as she attempts to smile at me. I reach for her face, the soft skin of her cheek brushed my fingertips. then came the melting warmth of her cheek as she leaned to my touch. Theres a sigh from her lips.

I met her gaze, meeting the longing in her eyes. The glance on my lips, and the slight lean as if waiting for my permission.

I don't know what she's hiding from me. I know very little of her. but as I remember how subtle she gets, how slow yet so affective she is in showing her love. And how stupid I am to not notice a thing in the past. I had the feeling. I have to trust her.

I nod, smiling at her with a little heat building in my cheeks.

She closes the distance, her soft lips meeting mine. And I slide my hand from her cheek, to rest on her nape.

A soft ring resounded the room, the same ring tone I've set for new year's eve. As our lips part I chuckle. "You are just in time."

It might not be now, but I know someday she could tell me what's really happening in days she's gone for her so called work.

[soombee]

ଳ⋆｡˚𖦹 caught in the current of you — 06 , chemistry or chemistry ?!

warnings ! suggestive joke!!!

word count , 956 / 0.9k words

don’t mind the times LOL I’M TOO LAZY TO CHANGE ANY OF TS

* ding ! — your laptop sounds

Subject: Chemistry Project Partnership Assignment

Good Morning YN,

I hope this email finds you well. As part of our ongoing efforts to encourage collaboration and critical thinking, I have assigned partners for the upcoming chemistry project. You have been paired with Donghyun Kim for an upcoming project.

Donghyun has consistently demonstrated strong analytical skills in class, and I believe his approach will complement your own strengths. This project is an excellent opportunity for both of you to exchange ideas and develop a comprehensive presentation together.

Please note that the project is due on the 19th of December, and I recommend setting up regular meetings to ensure steady progress. If you find yourself needing any assistance or have questions, don’t hesitate to reach out.

Best of luck with your project—I look forward to seeing what you both create!

Best regards,

Professor Lee

Chemistry Department

University of California, Irvine

“wait, who’s kim donghyun..?” you scratch your head, “hm lemme see if leehan knows heheheh definitely not an excuse to text him hehehhehehee”

4:45 pm — leehan’s house

you stood outside leehan’s door, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, clutching your laptop and notes. his house was warm and welcoming, the porch light casting a soft glow over the neatly potted plants lining the steps—he must really love nature. you raised your hand to knock, but before you could, the door swung open, and there he was—in a loose white tshirt and grey sweatpants that somehow made him look even more attractive

“dirty dirty mind..” — your mouth agape

“hi,” he greeted, stepping aside to let you in, his voice so low, “come in, you can set your stuff up in the living room or my room if you want”

his space was cozy, a mix of messy and organized—a sign of humanity. textbooks and random scribbled notes were stacked on the coffee table, while the faint smell of fresh coffee lingered in the air. you couldnt help but notice the personal touches scattered around—a framed photo of leehan and sangwon at a beach, a glass tank glimmering in the corner with vibrant little fishies darting around, and a blanket draped over the couch that looked so soft

he noticed your eyes lingering on the couch and giggled, hands motioning to the couch “you can sit there, ill go grab my notes”

as you settled in, you tried not to let your nerves show. it wasnt like this was the first time you’d worked on a project with someone…… but there was something about being here—in his space, with the quiet hum of the fish tank in the background and his cologne lingering in the air—that made your heart race

when he returned, he placed a cup of tea in front of you without a word and dropped onto the floor across from you, his laptop already open. he caught you staring, and for a brief moment, his brow lifted in quiet curiosity

you had come to his house with every intention of being productive—laptop charged, notes designed and organized in your folder. well, at first, you both were. the whiteboard he had set up next to the coffee table quickly filled with chemical diagrams, and the first thirty minutes were a flurry of brainstorming and collaborative problem-solving

but at some point, without either of you realizing it, the focus shifted

“okay, so if we combine that formula with…” you paused, trying to think of the next step, when leehan interrupted with a grin

“…me and u?” he jokes, leaning back and spinning the pen between his fingers

you laughed, shaking your head. “oh shut up, u can’t even focus on the project, what makes u think i’d like u stupid”

his jaw dropped in mock offense. “this is one time! and you’re distracting me!”

“oh forreal? how?”

leehan hesitated for just a beat too long before shrugging, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression “hmm.. we’ll never know!”

you snorted, deciding to let him off the hook, “uh huh… you’re an idiot”

the conversation continued off-topic from there, subtle flirting and teasing laughs filling the room. neither of you seemed to notice how the chemistry project lay abandoned between you, nor how the serious tone of the study session had softened into something lighter— i mean, it was still about chemistry…. your chemistry!

at one point, he leaned over to draw something on the edge of your notes, and his shoulder brushed yours. the touch was so casual you told yourself it meant nothing, but the faint warmth lingered, making you lose your train of thought

“look at that,” he said, pulling back to reveal his creation; a poorly drawn fish with exaggerated features

you laughed so hard you nearly fell off the couch, the fluffy blanket falling on the floor, “that’s supposed to be a fish? for someone who loves them, i thought you’d do them more justice than whatever that is”

leehan grinned, clearly pleased with your reaction “you’re so mean, drawing is hard, okay!!”

you both dissolved into laughter again, your voices echoing softly through the space

it wasnt until much later, when the sky outside had darkened and the faint glow of the streetlights seeped through the curtains, that you both noticed how little youd actually accomplished

“wait…” you said, staring at the clock then back at leehan, “did we even finish the hypothesis..?”

leehan blinked at the whiteboard, which had somehow ended up filled with doodles instead of equations. “uhhhmmm…”

“it’s fiiinnneeee… we have a month left..” you defend your lack of work, it was all worth it— for the subtle teasing, the laughter, and, most importantly, the time you spent with leehan

prev | mlist | next

Idek where this is going but ik one thing tho!

taglist (open) ! @saintriots @yourmyst4r @sftsohee @httpenhoon @alisonyus @astrae4 @lynnimini @enhacolor @mari3s @voikiraz @yveol @sol3chu @saritahwang @kazemiya @kamfaye

[rwshfordgirl]

5. Summer Love summary: he swore he would never again meet the girl he met on a beach in santorini, but on christmas eve, back in the country where he lives, a trip to the market makes them meet again. word counter: 1.566 pairing: kenan yildiz × reader a/n: it was a day late but it came out hahah i hope you like the last imagine of the prompts! please disregard any grammatical errors ;)

🎄 christmas prompts 🎄

turin, december, 2024

sometimes in the silence of the night, kenan would close his eyes and soon his ears would be filled with the sound of the sea and a female figure would soon approach him. four months had already passed and he couldn't forget the girl he met on santorini in the summer of that year.

he didn't have her number, he had not found the girl's profile on social media. yildiz only had her first name and  memories. memories that passed through his head every day without exception.

he rolled his eyes every time the voice in his head wondered what it would be like if they had exchanged contact information. "she would keep you warm in the cold", "she would spend christmas with you." they didn't even kiss, why did he think that?

"yildiz, let's go with me to the market! my mother forgot to buy some things." his cousin appeared at the door of the room where he was and the turkish man snorted "okay." he said getting out of bed and putting on his shoes.

christmas eve, snowing. the last thing he wanted to do was leave the house, but he was willing to accommodate his family's wishes. he went down the stairs of the house complaining mentally, grabbed the keys and went to wait for his cousin inside the car. "first time driving in the snow." his cousin commented when she got into the vehicle and saw the boy in the driver's seat, she even clapped her hands. but kenan just rolled his eyes and headed towards the market.

"let's be objective." the player said to his cousin as soon as he got out of the car, "you're becoming antisocial." his cousin replied "just because i don't want to be stuck inside a supermarket on christmas eve." the cousin shrugged "get me a cart, i'll wait for you inside."

kenan didn't answer, he just snorted and went to get one of the few carts left. but someone put their hand on the cart at the same time as him "oh sorry" the girl said as she grabbed another one. the football player was stunned, his mind automatically went back to santorini.

                    santorini, july, 2024

yn doesn't know how, but she ended up at a party of someone she didn't know at all. she's not really into these types of events and her friends left her alone. "i should be home," she thought as she sat on the wall of the house with a bottle of water in her hand. she wouldn't enjoy the party, but she would enjoy the beautiful view of the greek island.

out of the corner of her eye, yn watched someone arrive, a young man in a white linen button-down shirt. "i'm not the only one who wants to stay here enjoying the view," the girl said mentally. she looked straight at the boy as he sat on the wall. he smiled at her and she smiled back.

yn doesn't know, but the young man sitting next to her is kenan yildiz, a promising young player in turkish football. she doesn't remember, but she had seen him several times on television when she joined her brother to watch juventus games. 

"aren't you in the mood?" kenan asked, pointing to the party a little far away from them. "no, i only came because they forced me to." kenan laughed. "i came because i wanted to, but i should have stayed home." he confessed to the stranger "and to make it worse they left me alone here." yn commented and kenan snorted "i would be pissed if they did that to me." yn laughed "lucky for them that i like to enjoy the view, especially one i've never seen before." yn pushed her hair back. "first time here?" he asked, looking fixedly in her direction. "yes, first time in greece." kenan nodded and directed his gaze towards the sea.

yn would like to sleep there, listening to the sound of the waves breaking and the refreshing wind blowing on the island. "are you from here?" she asked the boy next to her, talking would keep her from dozing off in a place like this. "nah, born in germany, naturalized turkish and living in italy." yn was surprised "eurotour." yn commented before taking a sip of water "i bet that you are a football player." yildiz gave a light laugh "you're right." yn smiled "how do you know?" he questioned "you have the face of a player."

it got dark quickly, yn and yildiz seemed like two long-time friends talking. the player was enchanted by yn, everything about her was incredible. he wished he would never leave. kenan didn't know, but yn had someone and she just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible because she was thinking things she shouldn't think about yildiz, who she had met a few hours ago but is someone who makes an impact on other people's lives.

she was saying something about the chemistry college she was studying when her cell phone rang. she answered it and said a quick "goodbye" to the turkish man. he, in turn, was stunned. kenan immediately thought he would never see her again. and he was sure of this thought when he looked for her for three days on the streets of santorini, every time she left the house where she was staying.

              turin, december, 2024

never. never at all. he would never have imagined that he would meet the girl in a market in turin on christmas eve. "what are you doing here?" he asked in disbelief at what he was seeing. yn's eyes widened. "visiting my brother! It's so good to see you too, kenan." the girl said without understanding why kenan seemed so angry to see her after so long.

"can we talk alone?" he asked after looking around and seeing the commotion that was close to them. kenan even forgot about his cousin who was waiting for him inside the market. "okay." the player lightly held yn's arm and took her close to where he had parked the car. an empty place.

"why did you seem like you didn't want to see me at all?" the girl asked as she crossed her arms and leaned her back against the turkish player's car. "what? why do you think i didn't want to see you?" yildiz looked confused "your tone of voice and your expressions." kenan took a deep breath, "i'm sorry to tell you, but you're very wrong." he began to speak. "you haven't left my head for a second since we met in greece. you have no idea how desperate i was looking for you on that island after you left without even saying goodbye properly."

yn's mouth formed a perfect o. she laughed nervously after hearing this. "are you crazy? we spent three hours talking and you just couldn't forget me?" yn didn't think it was so bad after she said it and stopped to think about it. she knew she had the player in mind too. "and is that a problem?" he asked ironically "man, sorry for leaving without saying goodbye properly. something happened and i had to leave in a hurry." she said "and nothing was going to happen between us, i had a boyfriend." she admitted  you had , now you don't have anymore?" yn laughed at the question "we broke up as soon as i got back to london."

yildiz was looking into yn's eyes, a thousand things going through her head. although she found yildiz's behavior strange, she had also been enchanted by the boy after twenty minutes of conversation back in santorini. he was the man of her dreams.

"i thought about following you on Instagram." yn confessed "and why didn't you?" yn bit her lips and looked to the side "because you wouldn't see, how many follower notifications don't you get per day?" kenan sighed deeply.

"how long are you staying here?" he asked. "i'm leaving on the 28th." yn replied "great. we'll have a date on the 26th then." yildiz took his phone out of his pocket and yn looked at him with raised eyebrows, thinking about how crazy he was. "give me your number, i can't risk losing you again." yn laughed but took the phone from his hand. It was open, ready for her to add a new contact, and so she did. she returned the cell phone.

"i really enjoyed meeting you that day, yn." he confessed "i also really enjoyed meeting you, yildiz" she said "but you have no idea, i've never met anyone like you, ever. i listened to you talk for three hours but i could do this every day of my life." yn smiled when she heard that "you're cute and crazy, my type." yn said.

the two said goodbye, yildiz made her promise that they would have a date the day after christmas and so she did. and kenan said he wouldn't even be able to sleep thinking about it. she laughed at him.

"my god, yildiz, i thought you had abandoned me here." his cousin said as soon as she saw him arriving with the cart, "sorry, i didn't mean to." he smiled for no reason. "judging by your smile, i think your mother will have a daughter-in-law very soon."

[redheadspark]

Druig with "Shh, it's just a nightmare. You're safe" and "You are so fucking powerful" for December prompt? 🤗

A/N - Ahh! This is lovely! I do like this request, thanks dear friend!

Powerful

Summary - Druig is haunted, but you bring him back to the living.

Warnings - Just a mix of Angst and Fluff

“Druig….Druig wake up!”

Druig woke up gasping for air, eyes wide and his breath short in his throat as the dimmed room on the Domo was all he was seeing.  Yet in the back of his mind, tucked away in the most vulnerable part he would rarely tap into himself, was the moment he was thrown to the ground by Ikaris and almost killed within seconds.  It felt so real to him, from feeling the wind whip around him as he was launched, to the rocks digging along his skin and armor as he was being pummeled deeper and deeper into the ground.  It was too much for him, no matter that it was in the past and he was safe away from Earth.  He was living it all over again.

But there were hands on his face, framing his cheeks and rubbing his clammy skin soothingly.  The sensation of body warmth next to him under the satin sheets, and a soothing scent that he knew for centuries was now flooding his nostril as a silhouette was seen perched over him.  He knew that face, it was the very face that he fell in love with.  No matter that it was dark in the room, he knew the dip of the nose and the round cheeks along with the long hair draped over the shoulder.

You, his wife of almost 2,000 years.

“Shh,” you cooed as you stroked his brown hair from his eyes that were still wide.  One of his hands reached up to grab your wrist, almost using it as his own anchor as the nightmare was slipping away from him like the water on the shore, “Shh, it’s just a nightmare.  You’re safe.”

Druig gulped, nodding his head as he felt his heartbeat go down again from rushing so quickly.  You sighed in relief, leaning over to kiss his head a few times to bring him a bit more peace, “You scared me good, Druig,”

“Sorry,” he mumbled his voice feeling raw and thick as you tutted.

“Nothing to be sorry about, my love.” You reassured him.  Druig looked away from you at the window, seeing the galaxy and the scattering of stars right outside the Domo, reminding him yet again that you both were away from Earth.  Thena and Makkari were asleep in their own rooms, your ship on its own solo journey to look for other Eternals out in the cosmos.  

“It was Ikaris again, wasn’t it?” You asked him tentatively, Druig’s head going back to see you give him a look of concern.  He said nothing, but you knew fully well that it was about Ikaris.  Taking in a long pause, you looked down for a brief moment to control your own fleet of anger that was festering out.  

“He can’t hurt me anymore, luv,” Druig said in a calm tone, his hand on your wrist tightened sightly to get your attention, “He can’t hurt us.  He’s gone,”

“Good,” You replied shortly, Druig sitting up in the bed as he was keeping his eyes on you, “And I’m glad I got a few good hits in on him from what he did,”

“Hey,” Druig said to you, seeing your eyes slowly drift back to him as he gave you a reassuring look, “I’m fine and alive thanks to you.”  

Maybe it was enough that you needed to hear since the cold demeanor you had in your eyes was now melting away.  Druig knew that you had beaten Ikaris down to a pulp after Druig was taken out of the picture to stop Tiamut. He saw the evident look of fatigue on your face and in your body language when you two reunited on the beach, his heart was breaking from seeing how worn down you were and still reeling with rage and anger towards Ikaris.  This was not what he wanted for you, knowing how good and deep your soul was and how filled with happiness and love you have been for centuries.  But he also knew how protective you two were of each other, considering each other as equals when it came to living a life together on earth.  

Ever since you both left the beach, Druig had nightmares almost every night.  He was never one to get nightmares to begin it since it was rare for all the time he’d been on Earth.  But Ikaris’s assault was vivid in his mind, almost engrained in his psyche, and Druig hated that he was reliving it over and over again.

However, you were always there to wake him up and bring him back to reality.  It always helped when he saw your face, when he heard your voice or simply felt your presence as his nightmare melted away.  You were a source of peace for him, even in the more troubled times in the past when he felt hopeless in stopping the humans from harming each other, you reminded him of his worth and all the good he has done on the planet.  

“Come here,” Druig urged you as you both fell back into bed together, Druig letting you rest your head on his chest while his arms were rubbing your arms up and down in a soothing motion.  You held him close, breathing him in as the soft hum of the Domo and its energy was floating in the room. Druig loved holding you like this, for as long as you two were together as a couple he would hold you in his arms as you two slept or simply embraced each other.  Being powerful beings, it seemed silly to be in such a vulnerable position together.  Neither one of you cared though, being open with one another was the purest form of love you two had for each other and there was no resistance for it.  

Now more than ever, after stopping the world from ending and almost losing one another, you both were never far from one another’s touch.  

“I’m beyond thankful for you,” Druig reassured you as your arms were still wrapped around him and you were listening to his heartbeat through his thin shirt, “You’ve saved me from being lost so many times in the past, even when I didn’t feel powerful enough to change what I wanted in the world—“

“You are so fucking powerful,” You said in a determined tone, Druig going quiet as you were staring out into the window to see the stars floating by at a slow pace, “You’re powerful enough to know what’s right and what needs to be done, Druig.  I love that about you, and I’ll willing to protect you and that part of your heart because of it, okay?”

Druig smiled for the first time that night, leaning down to kiss the top of your head as you two were embracing in silence again.  Druig loved that passion that you had, being the more abrasive one out of the pair of you.  He spoke his mind about plenty of things, but you were a pinch bolder with your own opinion and was never afraid to hold back. 

You would remind him every day how powerful he was, and you would pull him out of the darkness every time too. 

The End

Hurt/ Comfort Prompt Session

[kitsuga]

For What I'm Worth. {Alex x Reader/Farmer}

Description: 

A fic in which Alex realizes just how much love can change a person. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tags: fluff, reminder that ive played sdv with mods for so long i am spoiled yet tainted with possible ooc LOL, reader referred to as "Farmer"!, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, stardew valley/sdv x reader/farmer, alex x reader/farmer, stardew valley/sdv, alex

Word Count: 1,677

A/N: Written on: December 2, 2022 

I went into the game thinking, oh, I won’t like alex very much. I was wrong. Ohhhh I was so wrong  

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The night had grown cold, yet the space between Alex and the Farmer was lovingly warm. 

Alex partially sat up in their bed, leaning on an elbow and letting his head rest on the palm of his hand. His eyes danced around their face, taking in every inch of how beautiful their face looked underneath the slimmer of moonlight that graced their presence through their window. He smiled to himself. 

Their date replayed through his mind; private dinner at the saloon, a nice, slow walk along the beach, a little stargazing, and a lot of good talks all around. To round out the night, they cuddled together in bed and took turns telling each other the silliest story they could think of—he could still hear their voice speaking slow as they gently drifted off to sleep—such a lovely sound.  

He was lucky, he thought. He was lucky to have them—foolish of him to ever turn a blind eye to them when they first moved to Pelican Town—but lucky they had knocked some sense into him and his ego. He could admit, he was less than welcoming—no depth to conversations and talking only about himself—but once he finally looked past his love for gridball, he quickly found other meaning in his life. 

It was sort of scary, he thought. To suddenly care so deeply about someone else and have your whole life flipped upside down. He couldn’t help himself, however, and smiled even more lovingly at his sleeping partner beside him as he softly whispered in the night.  

“It really is scary,” he started, finishing out his thoughts. “How quickly my life changed when you came around. How was I supposed to keep up?”  

Alex carefully brushed stray strands of hair away from the Farmer’s face, keeping the physical contact going by gently running the back of his finger against their cheek before moving to let his fingers dance up and down their arm. Something about the silence in the dead of night makes a man much braver to speak his mind, Alex thought, and quietly cleared his throat to speak again. 

“I’ve been lucky to have you,” the whispers cut the silence again. “I’ve been lucky to have you because you make me a better... me.”  

He thought about the time he spent thinking; about his life, about the Farmer, about his mother. He tried for so long not to think about his past, and tried to escape with something he didn’t need to use his brain for; if he kept his head down and focused on the gridball, there would be no time for him to think about things he had been running from. What Alex hadn’t realized, however, was that it ruined him; he became dull, a jock, thick headed with not much bouncing around in there. When did he become so... uninteresting? So focused? So... scared? 

“Thanks to you, I’ve been working on myself.” He chuckled a bit to himself, pausing when they stirred a bit in their sleep. “I’ve been reading a lot more—books my mom left behind, mostly. I’ve been trying my hand at some handy work too, to make myself a bit more useful to you. You’ve helped me start to learn new things and branch out... I’m going to be better, not just for me, but for you, too.” 

He leaned down and placed a kiss at their temple, nudging them softly before sitting back up to smile down at them once again. 

“I want to give you the world, you know. I want to be great so that your life turns out great.” Alex rubbed their arm a bit to warm them up, and to keep up his morale and keep his speech going. “I want to give you a life that you can love. A loving family. A partner that you wake up next to every morning without a doubt in your mind that I...” 

He paused, his ears growing red as he bit the inside of his cheek. He knew what words came next, but his heart was pounding in his ears and the butterflies in his stomach fluttered up through his chest like flames. He avoided them for now. 

“I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you feel so loved. That our family feels loved. I’ll never be like my father was—never.” 

He moved to hold himself up above them and places another soft kiss to their temple. He let the silence dawn on them once again for a few minutes, trying to work up the courage to say what was sitting heavy on his heart. He was scared—what if saying it ruined everything? What if three little words could cause his world to come crashing down? There was no doubt in his mind that this was how he felt about them—none at all. He took a long look at their face again, thinking about just how ethereal they were, here, with him. Alex swallowed hard and whispered, barely audible. 

“I love you.” 

Alex wasn’t expecting an answer, he really wasn’t. When he noticed the Farmer’s hand start to move, he was confused more than anything. His face started to grow warm and he smiled a bit embarrassed as they gently held his face in their hands. They pulled themselves up a bit and he, though embarrassed, happily leaned down to meet them the rest of the way for a soft, loving, lazy kiss. When they parted after some time, he melted into their hands and kept his eyes closed.  

“Just how long were you awake?” 

“Oh, the whole time.” The Farmer teased, not a hint of sleepiness in their voice. “You might want to get a bit better at telling when someone’s actually asleep.”  

He melted a bit more, this time in more embarrassment; his whole speech he was trusting to the night had never been secret at all. He quickly recovered, however, and opened his eyes wide when the Farmer spoke next. 

“I love you, Alex.” 

All he could do was stare at them in bewilderment—eyes wide and glossy, he took in everything he could about them. The way the corners of their lips turned up, how softly those words fell onto their lips, how much love he could actually see in their eyes. He continued staring at them as they continued their own speech. 

“I love you, and I want to make sure you know exactly what that feels like—day after day. I promise, I won’t let you wander alone anymore.”  

Silence fell on the both of them, but it felt like a warm, comforting blanket. Alex tried to process their words; they played over and over again in his head like a broken record—one that had been so beloved that it developed a skip that caused it to repeat, but it was his favourite so he couldn’t bear to get rid of it. Their words struck deep into his heart, forcing their way through the flames to call it their home. Every inch of his body had grown numb from being so warm and comfortable, and tears started to fall from his wide-open eyes before he could even realize it. 

“Alex?” 

Their voice sounded so quiet and concerned, he couldn’t help but snap back to reality. He broke out into a bright, large smile; the apples of his cheeks quickly started to hurt and tears pooled in the crinkled corners of his eyes. He shook his head slightly, moving to hold himself up on one arm again so that he could hold their hand to his cheek. 

“They’re happy tears, it’s okay.” He turned to kiss the palm of their hand. “I just... don’t know what to say. I don’t think I have the words. I’ll have to learn some.” 

The Farmer lightheartedly laughed a bit, stroking his cheek with their thumb as he continued to place kisses along their palm. Once he finished their palm, he moved down to their wrist, softly moving up their arm before they took it away to wrap it around his neck. They pulled themselves up to him which he took as his cue to fall to his side and wrap his own arms around them and bring them close. 

They nuzzled their face into his neck, leaving small, fleeting kisses up and down the crook until they slowly died down and Alex could hear the soft sounds of their breathing, showing that they actually, truly fell asleep this time. 

“Babe?” He whispered, double checking himself this time.  

He smiled, kissing wherever he could reach until he started to feel his own eyelids grow heavy. He gently rubbed their back until he began falling asleep himself; not before replaying the entire scene in his mind time and time again. As the moonlight finally started to wrap him in his slumber, he closed his eyes and whispered to his love once more. 

“Thank you for saving me from me.”  

With one last, long, chaste kiss to their forehead, Alex fell asleep with his limbs entangled with his new life, his new reality, and had no doubts about accepting it and loving them for all that he was worth. He’d make sure of it. 

[blouisparadise]

There are so many amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of December. We’re entering a new year feeling incredibly grateful for the amazing fics we got in 2023, and excited for the many we’ll get in 2024! Happy reading!

1) Say Yes To Heaven | Mature | 2818 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Ethan Hawke.

 Later when he’s back at the apartment with Oli, as Louis is somewhat dreamily waxing poetic about Ethan, Oli interrupts.- “Does he quote Shakespeare when you fuck?” he asks, poking at the sizzling eggs on the stove. Louis’ cheeks turn suspiciously pink. Oli peers at his face. “Oh my god, he DOES. I KNEW IT.” He triumphantly brandishes his spatula in the air.

2) Shut Your Mouth, Baby | Explicit | 3028 words

While fooling around in a closet at a New Year’s Eve party, Louis can’t seem to keep quiet. All he needs to do is hold off until midnight, when Harry will finally uncover his mouth and let him come at full volume.

3) Bank Holiday Weekend | Mature | 4135 words

Louis Tomlinson is a twenty-two year old omega who doesn’t give a shit. The omega knows his heat is coming up but still decides to attend Reading and Leeds Festival with his nineteen year old alpha co-worker Harry Styles.

4) Walk In Your Rainbow Paradise | Mature | 4151 words

Louis feels emotional after he watched Harry told the interviewer about the fish in his latest music video, leading up to him thinking about their 'secret' relationship throughout the years. Harry comes home to his husband who's feeling pissed off and needy of his comfort and warmth.

5) One | Explicit | 4188 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Tommy Shelby.

When omega Louis Tomlinson becomes pregnant after an unexpected encounter, he decides his only option is to flee his pack. But Tommy Shelby, pack alpha of the Peaky Blinders, might not be willing to let him go so easily.

6) Dreaming of a Green Christmas | Explicit | 4226 words

Harry opens the wrong package by mistake and finds the sex toy Louis ordered for himself. That's not an opportunity Harry can pass up on.

7) Never Felt More At Home (Then When I'm In Your Arms) | Not Rated | 5361 words

Louis and Harry are on tour with the band when Louis is struck with an unexpected heat. He's always known in the back of his mind there was something between him and his best mate, and when opportunity strikes... well, it hits hard.

8) Cat Got Your Tongue? | Explicit | 5523 words

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry screeches and jumps back in surprise. The man drops the popcorn bowl on the carpet and stands up, raising his hands in surrender, “Hey, it's me.” Harry frowns. He has never seen this man in his life. He stares at the wide blue eyes and… holy shit. There's no way. Harry rephrases his question, “what are you?"

9) I’m So Drunk On You (Baby, You’re All That I Want) | Explicit | 5875 words

A lucid celebration yet of nothing in particular, and it was that he found alluring, begged to make himself a part of. "Come on, H live a little." Louis pleaded without care for the sigh that slipped his lips, for the smile that they both formed were proof enough he'd given in. So giddy within skips toward the centre where they gathered, the smaller carried Harry close behind to join the chaos.

10) Snow At The Beach | Mature | 7885 words

The little Matthew Styles had been throwing objects into his cute omega neighbor's yard only for the adorable blue-eyed boy to come to his house to return them and talk to his father. "I'm starting to believe that he does it on purpose just so he can hug you" Harry appeared behind them and Louis smiled at him. "I wouldn't complain if it were like that"

11) Don’t Let The Fire Die | Explicit | 8850 words

Harry makes a long trip to take back what is his.

12) The Box | Explicit | 8895 words

When the signal comes, Harry dips and slides into the box, settling himself on his back with his knees bent.  Louis lifts the side of the box to close it, and as he does so Harry goes to pull his jacket from behind his back a little. The last sight that Louis is presented with before Harry is gone from view is the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen arching his back, with his head thrown upwards, mouth slightly open. And fuck. 

13) Touch Me (Like Nobody Else Does) | Mature | 11459 words

The alpha’s grin returned tenfold, deep dimples popping into his cheeks. Holy shit, he has dimples. “No, I don’t mind at all. I know where to find you when I need it back,” he said with a chuckle before leaning back into his seat. Louis let out a small giggle before nodding. “I’ll be sure it gets returned to you…?” He trailed off, one eyebrow raised at the other man. “Harry,” he replied, amusement still shining in his eyes. “And you are?” “Louis,” the omega responded before leaning back into his seat averting his eyes once again. “Thank you, really, for the charger. You’re a lifesaver. I’m not sure how I would’ve made it through without my Netflix.”

14) Cause I’m Really Not Fine At All | Mature | 13679 words

Louis Tomlinson, one of the famous members of One Direction, is involved in a car accident that caused him to have amnesia, wiping all the last five years of his life from the memory. The interesting part is he may not remember that he has a girlfriend now, yet his mind seems to think that he has been in a relationship with one of the members, Harry Styles. Harry is baffled and shocked at the situation that's thrown in his face. He finds himself learning how to be a good boyfriend for Louis. It has to be easy.. 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?

15) Roommates | Mature | 18604 words

Louis and Harry are roommates. Harry had put up an ad for a roommate, and Louis moved in. Harry notices that Louis only survives on takeout out, and when he leaves for his shift, he cooks an extra plate of food for Louis with a note.

16) Play By The Rules | Explicit | 21835 words

“Okay,” Harry clears his throat. “Sit on the bed, um, slut.” A beat of silence passes between them as Louis raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “You want to try saying that like you mean it?” Harry pouts, jutting out his lower lip. “But I don’t mean it, Lou. I feel like I’m being mean.”

17) You Bring Blue Lights To Dreams | Explicit | 30177 words

A body slid up behind him and he tensed until he realized it was Jailen, “So… Louis’ pretty cool huh?” He whispered so Louis wouldn't hear from the other side of the barn. “I mean yeah,” Harry responded, brows furrowing together before he realized what Jailen was really saying, “Jailen no that’s not- no. Nothing’s going to happen so don’t meddle, I’m serious.” “I’m not doing anything my dear Harold, I cannot control what happens naturally. Come on Harry, I know you’ve been getting restless with the whole finding your soulmate thing, it might be time to just try and put yourself out there for a while.”

18) He's Driving Me Crazy... But... I'm Into It | Explicit | 56219 words

The boys are organising a holiday in France for Louis, and Harry is able to make the trip at the last minute thanks to Niall. While things seem to be off to a bad start between them, it seems that some of the behaviour is just pretend. And of course, Louis is annoying, and Harry is his usual calm self... But the others don't seem to understand Louis' feelings, and that's not something Harry will let pass. If they gain more than friendship, that's just a bonus.

19) Your Eyes Are Tired But Keep Them Open Cause You Wouldn’t Wanna Miss A Thing | Explicit | 137451 words

Louis is an omega in an abusive relationship everyone forced him into; he’s miserable until he meets his favorite student’s uncle, Harry, a gentle alpha with a big heart.

20) Sewn Into You | Explicit | 167485 words

Harry Styles thinks soulmates are a fairytale, or in other words-a lie. He has no interest in entertaining anything that has anything to do with the very name that had been etched along his collarbone since his eighteenth birthday. Louis Tomlinson won't be answering to another alpha for the rest of his life if he can help it. Fuck happy endings, his soul mate can choke on it. Problem is, Harry needs a personal assistant to save his family's business, Louis needs the cash to officially move off of his childhood best-friend's couch. They can manage. Surely, nothing will go wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[unique-high]

Somebody's Problem | Dean Winchester x Blk Fem Reader

Summary: Dean couldn't help but think how you were somebody's problem.

No warnings.

A/N: This is a songfic loosely based on Morgan Wallen's song Somebody's Problem lyrics are written into the ff. Short read.

Parties were the best place to get laid. Especially college parties. Dean wasn't a college student, but where there was booze and chicks, he was there. He's got a red solo cup in his hand filled to the brim with warm beer. He's smiling at girls who send him flirtatious winks, but none of them are good enough to pull him their way. He keeps moving through the party. Bodies everywhere, weed lingers in the air and Eric Church played from somewhere. Dean sipped his beer moving through the party until he was out front with a couple who were almost out of their clothes on the front lawn. At least someone would be getting some ass.

A gray-matted BMW pulled up to the party. Windows rolled down, music blasting. Dean sees the 30-A sticker on the back windshield. Two-tone tank top slipping off your shoulder kinda girl when you step out. Dean lowers his red solo cup. For a second, the world stands still.

Ooh, I know where this is going. I already know it. Dean thought.

He watches as you walk past. Throws a look his way. A little smile from gloss cherry-tinted lips. Dean knew the type of girl you were. Likes shopping with Daddy's black American Express, and long vacations in exotic places.

It's like in those few split seconds Dean saw everything as you slowly moved by. He wanted to know your name. Know your favorite color and your favorite song. Shit. This wasn't like him to want to go that deep (that was deep for him). You were just a girl. But Dean's mind saw you as something more than that.

How you were somebody's problem. Somebody's goodbye.

You being the last number that they can't find.

You were somebody's best day. Somebody's worst night.

You were the reason somebody left the porch light on.

Then here was Dean, thinking of your beautiful complexion. You're a shade darker from being out on the beaches of Cancun.

Damn. He's thinking now how he loved to drown in them heartbreaker brown eyes of yours.

Oh, she's about to be my problem.

So Dean gets close to you. You're dancing in a way that Dean imagined was the way a Goddess could dance. And Dean he sips his drink watching you. You pulled him by his shirt, body pressed against his. He liked this. You smell of Jasmine blossom and lilacs, and Dean is crazy about the smell. He wanted to lean into you, to smell more of you, to kiss you, to wrap his arms around your waist and keep you forever.

You're the kinda girl once somebody had you, they couldn't stand to lose you. Kinda girl where your friends tell you “Don't F it up.”

You're the kinda girl that guys try to get your number to sliding through the summer to talking about love.

Dean wanted to be that summer love you'll think about in mid-hot September to harsh winters In December. He wants to be the thoughts that keep you warm in the middle of those cold nights. Dean doesn't think twice when he leans forward a bit and kisses your lips. He tastes of beer. You hold his face between your hands. For Dean, he thought he'd be a face you'd forget somewhere between the tequila shots by the end of the night if the two of you didn't end up upstairs in a bedroom naked between a stranger's bedsheets.

Wherever it led, Dean didn't care.

Dean loses himself in you. Oh, he wanted to try all the problems you were for somebody else.

He thinks he's crazy for wanting that, but maybe he was.

A/N: If you want to request Dean x blk reader my request are always open. :) Thanks for reading!

[doahaesunshine]

Chapter 4: I want to see you right now

Chapter WC: 1243

Tags

Fear of Suicide

Master List | Prev | Next

“Hey, I’m just calling to see if you’re there.” “I know it’s only been a day, but we’re worried about you.” “If you see or hear this, please respond.” “I can’t lose you too.”

December 25

A loud ring blared in the early morning, enough to disturb anyone’s slumber. The offending sound ceased as the swipe of a finger answered the phone.

“Hello?” Seungcheol croaked, voice heavy with sleep.

“Heya, Cheol. Sorry I’m calling so early, but did Y/N crash at your place?” It was his best friend's dad, he sounded distressed.

Seungcheol quickly sat up. “No, they didn’t. Did they not come home last night?”

There was a disturbing silence over the line then a loud sigh broke it. “Well have you at least heard from them?”

“No- Have you not talked to them since yesterday?”

“I wouldn’t be calling at five in the morning if I knew where my only child was.”

Another silence blanketed the call. Tension filled the air as panic set in Seungcheol’s mind. He hadn’t heard from his friend since yesterday evening. Quickly he scrolled through his messages, seeing no response to his ‘Merry Christmas’ text he sent out at midnight. They should have seen it yet the message went unread. The bus ride from his friend’s neighborhood to the cafe was thirty minutes at most. Bile began to rise in his throat. 

“I’ll be in touch, Cheol. You’ll be the first person I contact if I hear anything.”

Once the call had ended, Seungcheol sat in the quiet of his room, eyes unable to focus on anything. His chest bubbled with an anxious fog and the nausea that accompanied it left a bitter taste in his mouth. His heart raced, adding to the terror that crept up his spine. Frantically he began to scan through his phone, checking all social media, group chats, Discord parties, even Spotify, but each place came up empty.

His hands began to shake as realization hit him. 

Did they finally follow through?

The cafe was closed due to it being Christmas. Most of the shops on the block were unlit and empty. Seungcheol sighed as he continued along the sidewalk.

There wasn’t much area to cover. It was a quaint town, the only one relatively close to the neighborhood where his friend lived. The only other place of interest Seungcheol knew of was the bridge. The fairy lights that decorated the structure had been something they spoke about once when they were put up for the holidays. 

Seungcheol stood and stared out into the river. There was a distant memory that slowly formed in his mind. No matter how much he tried to shove it away, it surfaced. His friend once mentioned that they believed Seokmin had taken his life here. 

It only makes sense. The water is cold and the current is fast. It would be a quick death, maybe even painless. Seokmin didn’t like seeing others in pain. I’m sure he thought the same of himself.

It was a rough couple months when Seokmin was initially proclaimed dead. The situation didn’t exactly evoke positive ideology, but imagining your closest friend committing suicide? It just seemed entirely too grim. Seungcheol had his theories too, some bleak, others not, but Seokmin was fine. He was all smiles and sunshine the day before he went missing. He even proposed traveling to the coast and renting a beach house for New Years.

Seungcheol’s grip tightened on the railing of the bridge, his knuckles turned white and his body shook to fight back the tears. Once again…Christmas had been ruined.

With one last look at the river Seungcheol released his hold on the railing and returned to his car. He dialed up his friend's father.

“Cheol?”

“I’m not going to wait for them to turn up. I’m filing a missing persons report.” He was determined. 

There was no point in patiently waiting for a call that would never come.

The report had been filed and so it became a waiting game. The department said they would investigate, but that took time. One of the officer’s said something about the disappearance needing to be ‘deemed suspicious’ before they could send a team out, which meant Seungcheol was to sit around for forty-eight hours doing nothing.

“This is bullshit.” He muttered to himself as he grabbed his coat and headed out again.

The neighborhood where his friend grew up was a close knit community. It used to be a decent plot of farmland, but had been filled up with modern farmhouses and a few suburban homes. Seungcheol knew that if he wanted to find his friend he was going to have to form a search party.

He set out door to door with an old photo of his friend that he kept in his wallet. Thankfully a majority of the people in the neighborhood knew of them and their father. To his surprise, their father was in charge of multiple households’ accounting and the older gentlemen held good standing amongst his neighbors. 

It took a few hours, but Seungcheol successfully formed a small search party that consisted of neighborhood friends and his friend’s father. Without much convincing, his own family joined in on the search, knowing that the holiday took no priority over their son’s pain. Each household filled their own vehicles, some heading for town while others went through the neighborhood and the fields surrounding it. 

Seungcheol joined the search party in town. He had been on edge ever since he remembered the conversation he had with his childhood friend. The twist in his gut made him fear the worst, but he still held onto hope. He wasn’t going to lose another friend.

The search continued into the evening. Seungcheol cursed the winter season for growing dark so early, yet the lack of sunlight didn’t stop him. By this point, he was skirting the edge of the lake with his older brother, both using up the last of their phones’ battery power by using the flashlights. Neither bothered to speak as they focused on the task at hand, too many unsaid things threatened to throw the younger of the two into a bout of tears. 

“Seungcheol-ah!” His brother yelled for him down the river.

Seungcheol wasted no time as he rushed over to his brother. He was near the outskirts of the lake where fallen trees didn’t hinder the strong currents that flowed. The former watched as the other reached for something in the water, his eyes strained to make out what the object was. As he jogged closer, he recognized the bag once he shone light on it. 

His heart nearly stopped beating. 

“No.” Was the only phrase Seungcheol could mutter.

Tears welled in his eyes, mind plagued with every heart wrenching scenario. He turned away and looked out into the river.

“Y/N!” His voice broke as he screamed. “Y/N, please! Where are you?”

Panic rose as Seungcheol shouted into the dark. He cried as he called out for his friend, not wanting to accept the answers he was dealt. If he accepted the truth it would break him. He would have to admit that he lost another friend to the same fate.

Once again, Christmas had become dull and hollow. 

The holiday that was supposed to fill people with joy, became a curse.

Two friends. Two souls. Two loves.

Christmas had stolen the only two people he truly cared about. 

To join a tag list, please comment on the Fallin' Flower Master List!

@reiofsuns2001 @shinwonderful

[surftrips]

SNOW ON THE BEACH

OBX WRITING WEEK DAY 2 — MEET CUTE W/ JOHN B. 

word count: 1158

summary: after y/n's flight is delayed, she ends up stranded in a cafe in kildare, rescued by a golden-haired boy.

a/n: my first time writing for john b. and i had so much fun! it's been so hot where i am so i am yearning for winter and cozy vibes in case you can't tell haha

Y/N’s flight to Boston had been delayed at the Kildare Airport, out of all places. And out of all the reasons, it was because of an impending snow storm. Who even knew that it snowed in North Carolina? She couldn’t believe her luck, she was supposed to be going home to visit her family for winter break and now she was stuck in the middle of nowhere. 

She supposed the Outer Banks would’ve been beautiful any other time of the year, but it was December and there was no one left but her and the locals. With an indefinite layover, she decided to leave the airport and head into town. Y/N was in desperate need of caffeine. 

After hailing a taxi and asking to be taken to the nearest cafe, she lugged her carry-on and suitcase into the store before realizing that she had no place to stay. She knew no one in the area and she was sure all the hotel rooms for the night would have been booked by now. 

Groaning, she ordered a hot caramel latte and slumped into a seat by the window. Y/N shot her mom a quick text about her flight being delayed, not in the mood to call her and explain the whole situation. Next, she pulled open her laptop and started looking into a cheap AirBnb or motel nearby. 

In the middle of doing so, she was interrupted by a voice behind her.

“Hey, you’re not from around here,” he said. 

She turned around to see who it was. Her initial guardedness went away when she saw that the boy was around her age. “Is that a question or a statement?” she replied.

Smiling, he said, “I’m pretty confident it’s a fact. I’ve never seen you around here before.” 

“Don’t you get a lot of tourists?” 

“Not many as pretty as you are.” 

Y/N found herself blushing despite how ridiculous this situation was. “I’m just passing by,” she muttered out, unsure of how to respond to his straightforwardness. 

“Really? You didn’t plan on vacationing in the Outer Banks in the dead of winter?” 

She laughed, the ice having been broken, and decided that it was probably safe to introduce herself to this (admittedly) cute stranger. 

“Haha, no, not really. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“My friends call me John B. Y/N, what’s your story?”

“Well, my flight here was awful, thanks for asking. Then I found out my connection to Boston was delayed because of a New England storm or something and now I’m stuck here indefinitely,” she sighed.

“Shit, sorry to hear that. You must be really unlucky because it never snows around here.” 

“You’re really helping me feel better John B.” 

“Sorry,” he scratched his head. “How can I help?” 

“Seriously? You want to help me?”

“Yeah, sure. Got nothing better to do.” 

“Well, unless you have a place where I can crash I don’t think you can help me very much.” 

With that, the boy’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do happen to have a place for you to stay.” 

“Oh, I-I was sorta joking you really don’t have to do that.” 

“It’s no big deal, my friends crash there all the time. My dad’s not home that much and even if he was, he wouldn’t mind.” 

Y/N was starting to wonder what the catch was, sure the boy looked nice and like he meant well, but at the end of the day, this was a stranger. He could be luring her back to his house and she would never be seen again. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he started again. 

“What?”

“You can trust me. Look, it’s a small town, everyone knows me. I’ll even invite all my friends over so you can feel safe. Two of them are girls.” 

Y/N really wanted to say yes. She had been silently begging all day for a miracle and this was the closest thing to it at the moment. 

Sighing, she gave in. “Okay, fine. How far away do you live?” 

“Like ten minutes that way,” he pointed east from the store. “We can get there in the Twinkie.” 

“The what?” 

He led her outside where he had parked his van, infamously named the Twinkie. John B. carried her suitcase into the back while she held onto her carry-on. 

“And this thing is safe?”

“Yes, she is safe to ride in. My friends and I have been through a lot worse than a minor storm with her.” 

“Whatever you say,” she said, still not convinced. “Hey, what time do you think it’s going to snow anyway?” 

“Who knows if it even will? My buddy Pope said it probably won’t get cold enough.” 

What was supposed to be a short ride back to his house ended up becoming a very elaborate tour of the town. It started with John B. pointing out a few of his friend’s houses, then the The Wreck where his friend Kiara worked, the high school they all went to, and finally, they ended up at the beach. 

Y/N had to admit, it was a nice beach. Even in the dead of December, the sand looked clean and the sparkling ocean had not yet frozen over. As John B. admired the landscape, she used this time to get a good look at him. His golden brunette hair, the blue bandana around his neck, the slight hint of a smile on his face as he looked out into the water. She couldn’t decide what was more beautiful to her at that moment, the boy or the sea. 

“Oh my god,” his voice snapped her out of her thoughts. 

“What? What?” 

Wordlessly, he fumbled open his side of the door and raced outside. 

“John B? Where are you going?” she called out after him. 

“I can’t believe it,” he said, in awe.

“Can’t believe what—” Y/N stopped in her tracks. There, in front of them, and above and behind, were small white flecks. They could’ve been lights, or fireflies, but she knew they weren’t. He knew it too, even though he had only seen it a few times in his life. 

“It’s snowing,” he said, incredulously. 

“Oh my god, it is!” Y/N had grown up with the seasons, had felt the wrath of a New England blizzard ten times over, but this, this was something magical. 

“Is this what it feels like? It’s like a scene from a movie,” he was smiling like a little kid now, reaching to grab a pocketful before the flakes melted in his hand. 

“This is so weird.” 

“But beautiful,” he looked over at her then, taking in the moment. Her smile was like she just won a contest, and she found no need to hide it anymore. 

John B. pulled his arms around Y/N, wrapping her in his embrace. They stayed like that watching the snow come down, silently.