#I think her hair as a kid could have been a little more darker but eh whatever

[nogurlstoy]

I think this is another case of, not speaking for another group of people, otherwise you are creating a whole new problem that is not only insensitive but also disrespectful to those group of people. Unless you are the Sami are native to places like Norway, we do not know if the representation presented can be debated as problematic. No matter how good the intentions, it still is upsetting to think you have the knowledge about something that will still be alien.

And I heavenly agree with the statement ‘don’t look like they could be X group of people’ being very insensitive. This applies especially to mix people but in this case, Iduna's physical appearance could simply be brushed as an error. Key word: could. No doubt in mind that if the writers knew before hand what they wanted to do for a sequel BEFORE finishing the first movie, they would have made Iduna more "native". Or at least made the Northuldrans look more diverse to match Iduna's features.

Iduna is Northuldran, her heritage is not going to go away automatically because people who are not Norwegian Natives says otherwise. Sure she could of looked more like her younger self, but her skin was not even that dark when she was a child.

“PART OF THEM”

It still absurd to me whenever i read articles or when Disney said “Idunna is actually native Northuldran”. Like…. Wheeeere?

They portrayed this Northuldran have their own characteristic like higher and prominent cheekbones, wider space between eyes, almond and upturned eyes, wilder nose, stronger jawline, and DARKER SKIN.

And then they show Idunna who is looks like nothing resemble and Northuldran. They tried to show her part of “native” with her darker skin while she was A CHILD like that even not making more laughable.

She have this pretty princess normal Arendelle type face, extremely pale, nothing like the Northuldran. Does our appearance can drastically change depends on where we live? Will i be suddenly have caucasian’s characteristic if i ever move to North Europe?

“Skin can be lighter when you grow up.”

Yeah, then at least we can see some Northuldran have skin as light as Elsa then, especially since they never got the sun touch all this time.

I also find it so ridiculous for the part when Elsa and Anna said they are part of them and the Northuldran suddenly just accept them and be like “the past is in the past, forget that they betrayed us and tried to colonize us” despite they just reach there not even 10 minutes ago.

It’s make me thinking, is that how westerners still see native people? Especially to the place they was trying to colonize?

“We are part of you.” Yeah. I think that’s the magic words it seems. At least that’s what they seems to show in the movie.

Maybe because it’s the easiest way to make a community suddenly fond of you and accepting you (althought it’s tacky indeed.)

If they stuck like that because Idunna’s face already default from F1, they can make the Northuldran’s face looks more like Idunna instead. Or maybe making Agnaar’s mother as the one from Northuldra considering we never saw her and they have more freedom to create new character. Or just not making them related and completly making Arendelle have redemption arc towards the Nortuldran.

Not like making Idunna as part of the Northuldran despote she doesn’t resemble anything from her tribe. What is this? Avatar live action by Night M. Shyamalan?

[yan-lorkai]

Fae/faerie Jade trying to get lost reader's name and her being like '🤨 uh, no, give me yours first, let's trade' without knowing that's basically like betrothing herself with him

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: Lowkey I believed faes/fairies used to exist when I was kid lol. And I'm telling y'all this because I had a dream quite similar to this fic lololol, it was a good dream tho :>

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ tagging: @harukishiyo @kiraiyugen

"You're quite charming," he says, his voice soft and almost reverent, as if speaking an undeniable truth. "Precious, even. Why won't you tell me your name?"

You hesitate, narrowing your eyes at him. There's something about the way he asks, the smoothness of his tone, that feels too inviting, too... dangerous. For a second, you study him, his sudden appearance intriguing you.

You cross your arms, trying to appear more confident than you feel. "Uh, no. Mister, you should tell me your name first," you say, thinking you’ve cleverly sidestepped whatever game he’s playing. "Or... We could trade names."

For a moment, his eyes widen, surprise flickering across his face. But then his lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile, one that makes your stomach tighten in a way you can’t quite place. "Ah, a trade, is it?" he murmurs, the words rolling off his tongue with a hint of amusement. "Very well, if that is what you wish... I shall oblige."

He leans in slightly, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a brief second, you feel as though the air around you has thickened, charged with something unspoken. When he speaks his name - Jade, like the gem, it’s with a deliberate, almost theatrical grace, each syllable drawn out as if he’s savoring the moment. His voice is like silk, and his name feels heavy, lingering in the air between you.

And the sound is almost magical, hypnotic even.

You don't realize it, but the moment you suggested a trade, you unknowingly set the trap he had been waiting for. To exchange names with a fae is to offer something more than just words; it’s an agreement, a binding promise. By giving yours, you would be tying yourself to him, just as he’s doing now.

And the look in his eyes — the way they gleam with that mix of amusement and something darker — tells you that he knows exactly what you've just offered, even if you don't.

When you finally open your mouth to respond, you don’t see the invisible chains that have begun to form around you, nor do you hear the silent vow he’s made to keep you by his side.

"Well," you begin, a bit nervously, trying to shake off the sudden intensity in his eyes. "I guess it’s only fair to share mine now." You tell him your name, and as the words leave your lips, you can't help but notice how his smile widens, sharp and satisfied, like a predator finally closing in on its prey.

“Ah, so that is your name, Yuu,” he repeats, almost reverently, as if tasting it, repeating it again and again as if he was getting used to it. “Beautiful… fitting, even.”

He takes a step closer, and you instinctively take a step back, but he follows, closing the distance again. “You have no idea what you’ve just given me, do you?” His voice is gentle, but there’s an underlying current, a subtle shift that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

You blink, confused. “What do you mean?” you ask, feeling a little defensive. “It’s just my name. We traded, remember?”

“Oh, but it’s not just a name,” he replies, tilting his head as if amused by your innocence. “To share a name with a fae is to forge a bond, one that can not easily be broken. You offered a piece of yourself, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I have given you a piece of me in return.”

You stare at him, the realization dawning on you slowly, like the creeping shadow of a storm. You had to have misunderstood what he just said.

“Wait… Are you saying…?” Your words falter as you search his eyes, looking for any sign that he’s joking, but there’s none. The grin on his face is too calm, too knowing, as if he’s been planning this all along.

“Yes, my dear,” he says, his voice soft and almost affectionate, yet there’s a possessiveness in his tone that makes your heart skip a beat. “We are bound now, betrothed, if you wish to call it that. You belong to me, just as I belong to you. Isn’t it delightful? Mom and dad will be glad to know you.”

Your heart starts pounding, a mix of disbelief and panic surging through you. “No, no, that’s not what I meant!” You stammer, shaking your head as if you can undo the words you’ve already spoken. “I didn’t agree to… to this! I can't get married right now.”

He doesn’t seem fazed by your protest. If anything, he looks even more delighted now. “Oh, but we're married now due to fae traditions. The moment you proposed the trade, you sealed your fate. And I have no intention of letting you go, my precious beloved one.”

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch cool but oddly soothing. “Do not fear, Yuu. I shall take care of you, cherish you… just as a good partner should.”

You try to pull away, but his hand cups your cheek, holding you gently in place. “There is no need to run, no need to fight. We are bound by something far stronger than mere words. You wished to know my name, and now… you will never forget it.”

The forest around you feels like it’s closing in, the air thick with something unseen, as if the world itself acknowledges the bond between you. And in his eyes, you see no hint of malice, only a patient, eternal watchfulness, as if he’s content to wait, to let you come to terms with what you’ve unknowingly become a part of.

“I’ll give you time to understand,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a soft, almost tender smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. “But know this… I am yours, just as you are mine. And there is no escaping what has been forged tonight... Love.”

[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!!!

[steddie-island]

Life finds a way

Written for week 5 of @softsteddieseptember | Prompt: Adoption Rating: G | WC: 1,113 | Tags: Established Steddie, mention of Al being in jail, anxiety about becoming parents ao3 | Divider credit

The plastic seat dug into the backs of Steve's thighs. They'd been sitting in the waiting room for over an hour now. At least Eddie had stopped pacing, had settled for bouncing his leg up and down and fidgeting with the cap of his water bottle.

"Hey." Steve reached over to catch Eddie's hand. He threaded their fingers together and gave a gentle squeeze. "We'll be okay. We can do this."

"Yeah." Eddie didn't sound so sure. He brought his other hand to his mouth to start chewing on his cuticles. It was the same position he'd sat in the night before, only Steve wasn't across from him this time.

Steve rested his chin on Eddie's shoulder and switched which hand he had laced with Eddie's, so he could wrap his other arm around his partner's back. "We'll be okay."

"We've done this before."

"Not like this," Eddie murmured. "Not with— not with someone so small. What if— what if I fuck up? What if I don't know what I'm doing and I fuck up in a way that— that can't be fixed? That I can't take back? What then?"

Eddie's hair was bigger, wilder than it normally was, showing just how many times he'd dragged his hands through it, or had his face hidden in his palms. There was a half empty pack of cigarettes on the table that Steve knew for a fact had only been opened a couple of hours earlier.

"We might fuck up, but it won't be on purpose. Everyone fucks up sometimes." Steve kissed Eddie's knuckles. "I'm not saying it won't be hard, but we can do it. And they're your siblings."

That earned a sound that halfway between a scoff and a whine. "I know. I know. What the fuck— he's old, he's not supposed to be out there just— making more kids he can't take care of."

It'd been a week since the call from the state. A week since they'd found out Al was in jail again, leaving behind two kids that no one else wanted to take responsibility for.

Steve wasn't sure he'd ever seen Eddie this torn up before.

"There are a lot of people out there doing that." Steve caught Eddie's other hand and held them to his own chest. "We don't have to do this. If you really think we can't do it, if you don't want to—"

"I want to," Eddie said quickly, his eyes going wide. "We've talked about having kids before, I just… didn't think this would be how it happened."

"I know. I didn't, either. I didn't think it would be like this, or be so soon…"

"Yeah. Yeah, fuck." Eddie pushed his fingers through his hair again. "I'm scared, Stevie."

Steve cupped Eddie's face between his palms. "It'll be hard. I'm not saying it won't be. We might fuck up. We will fuck up, there's no way for us not to." He smiled a little. "But those kids will be so loved. They'll never have to wonder for even a second whether we love them."

Moisture welled up in Eddie's eyes. He cleared his throat, blinked the tears back, nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we have that going for us," he said. "And… you want this? With me? You want to do this?"

Steve pulled him in, kissed him gently before resting their foreheads together. "I've never wanted anything more in my life," he admitted. "If you're in, I'm in."

Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve's back, pulling him closer until Steve was sitting in his lap. He brushed their lips together before meeting those eyes he would never get tired of getting lost in. "I'm in."

"Mr. Munson?"

Eddie jerked up out of his seat, nearly dropping his water bottle in the process. "Here— I mean, that's— me."

Steve stood up, too, as the caseworker they'd already met with to fill out paperwork came through the door. There was a bundle in one arm, and her other was holding the hand of a little kid with dark curls and darker eyes.

Steve had always thought that Eddie got his looks from his mom, but those eyes were Eddie's. "Oh…"

There was a soft intake of air. Eddie took a cautious step forward, then squatted down so he was even with the kid in front of him. "Hey, sweetheart. What's your name?"

The kid shot a shy look up to the caseworker, then back to Eddie. "Andrew," he said, but it came out more like Andwew.

"Hi, Andrew. I'm Eddie." He smiled and held his hand out, and Steve melted as the little boy in front of them took Eddie's hand. "You'll be coming to stay with us for a little while."

Andrew bit his lips and looked up at the caseworker. There was so much Eddie in that nervous little glance. "Sissy, too?" he asked.

Eddie gave him a nod. "Yeah. Both of you."

The caseworker smiled and smoothed a hand over Andrew's curls. "They're very nice," she said. "They'll take good care of you."

Andrew looked past Eddie to Steve for the first time. "Who him?" he asked.

Steve squatted beside Eddie and held his hand out, too, just like Eddie had done. "I'm Steve. I'll be taking care of you, too." He gestured to the shirt Andrew was wearing. "Do you like dinosaurs?"

"Yeah." He ran a pudgy little hand over the print of his shirt. "They go—" He held his hands up like claws and made a dinosaur roaring sound.

Oh, yeah. This kid was a mini Eddie, and Steve was in love.

"They do! They're so cool, aren't they?" Eddie looked at Steve, his eyes swimming, his smile wide. "How about we take you and your sister home, we can make some dinosaur nuggets and watch a movie?"

Andrew perked up at the offer, and he didn't look back to the caseworker this time. "Can we?"

"Yeah!" Eddie straightened up and offered Andrew his hand. "We definitely can, if you want to!"

"Okay!"

Steve stood and held his arms out for the baby wrapped in a soft yellow blanket. He could make out her dark hair, not as curly as her big brothers' hair but the same dark shade of brown. That was definitely Eddie's mouth, too. "Hi, sweetheart. You're coming home with us," he murmured.

"Call if you need anything," the caseworker said with a squeeze to Steve's elbow and a smile at Eddie. "I'll check in in a few days."

"Thank you," Eddie said. He bent to pick Andrew up, then rested a hand at the small of Steve's back to guide him to the door. "C'mon. Let's go home."

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Gentle on my mind - Chapter 14

Initially set in 1967 when Elvis is filming Clambake. Feeling miserable and trapped after the Colonel banishes Larry and the spiritual texts, Elvis invites Gloria to keep him company through the last five days of filming. Gloria is an aspiring movie editor and more importantly she's a lot of fun. Will she be what Elvis needs to get him out of the depressive funk he's in?

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

A/N: This is the final part. I wanted to write an epilogue but this was so difficult to write I don't think I can. I cried all the way through it and I cried when I edited it too. I am really sorry to have made a story that ends like this, but this is how it is.

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 2.7K

TWs: Description of Elvis' failing health, erectile dysfunction, consensual somno, p in v sex, and death. Please prepare yourself for the end of this.

They spend the rest of the week at Graceland enjoying one another’s company. Elvis feels a sense of peace that settles over him like a warm blanket that cold January, and he wishes it could go on forever. Gloria is happy too, finally having time with Elvis and no demands on either of them. She particularly enjoys getting to know Larry, who she thinks of as Elvis’ spiritual hairdresser, talking about all sorts of crazy things. She recognises him as a kindred spirit - maybe not quite on the basis of religion or even belief generally, but as someone who wants the best for Elvis and actively tries to help him. Larry likes Gloria too, especially the effect that she has on Elvis. He’s sure Parker wouldn’t be happy about her if he knew she was here, but then again maybe he wouldn’t mind her, since there seemed to be no way she could be a permanent fixture in Elvis’ life. The days at Graceland are full of reading and talking, singing and playing games in the snow. Gloria is sad when she has to leave but she’s been missing her kids too. It’s the longest she’s spent without them, and the ache in her heart feels almost physical. There are a lot of tears and promises when she leaves, though every time she and Elvis part she worries a little more if there will be a next time. 

***

Gloria keeps her promise about visiting, but it’s hard to find times that work for the kids, Roger and Elvis. They manage twice that year, and it’s wonderful both times. Somehow she manages another visit in early 1976, and then Elvis tells her he’s playing two dates at Cow Palace in November and puts her name on the door. He’d looked tired when she saw him last, and she’s worried about seeing him perform for the first time in four years. She’s still never spoken to him about his health, but she sees the pills and she stays awake a lot when she’s with him, remembering what Jerry had said. Once she finds he’s stopped breathing and has to shake him awake, calling out desperately for help. He comes round, but it scares her. It scares her a lot that they might not have much time left. 

***

Somehow the Cow Palace show is incredible. Elvis is bright and engaged and as she watches him, Gloria feels like she’s falling in love all over again. He’s fired Red and Sonny West, so Jerry is his only remaining body guard now, and it’s easy for him to persuade Jerry that they don’t have to stay in the hotel that night. He arrives to Gloria’s house under cover of darkness and the kids are overwhelmed with joy to see him. 

Once they’re in bed he peels his jumpsuit off his tired body, standing in the middle of Gloria’s bedroom. He’s so exhausted he forgets to be self-conscious, and when she walks in from tucking the kids in she finds him standing there in just the little white pants he had to wear with the suit. His hair is still damp with sweat, and the hair on his chest seems darker and thicker than ever. He turns to look at her, eyes half-closed. 

“I need ta shower, honey.”

Gloria has a little ensuite with just a shower, and she ushers him towards it. It’s obvious he’s too tired for this really, so when he gets in and just stands there under the faucet not moving, she gets in too. It’s a tight squeeze and as she starts to rub soap on his chest she realises she didn’t even take her clothes off. He’s not the only exhausted one. 

“Thanks honey,” he whispers, not questioning what she’s doing or the fact that she’s doing it fully-clothed. 

She rubs soap all over him and then helps him rinse it off. He steps out of the shower, shakily, and she quickly strips off her wet clothes, leaving them there before finding him a towel and wrapping him up in it. He’s still and his eyes are almost closed, so she dries him too, leading him back into the bedroom once she’s dried herself off. 

Elvis lies down with a groan. He’s exhausted. He can’t help but feel that he gave his all at that show, but he knows he has to do it again tomorrow. 

“Can’t keep doin’ this,” he mumbles, as Gloria tucks him in and then gets in next to him. Her hair is wet, so she puts a towel down on her pillow. 

“You need a break,” she whispers. 

“I sure do.”

She leans her head against his chest, her fingers rubbing one of his sideburns. They’re so big now she feels like he’s on his way to growing a beard.

“Remember we used to talk about going to Hawaii?”

He smiles, eyes still closed. “Course. Think about it all the time. Runnin’ away to Hawaii with you and the kids. Livin’ out the rest a my days peacefully in the sun.”

Gloria feels her heart break in two at his words. The rest of my days. 

“Maybe we can go there on vacation? I’m sure I could work something out.”

“That would be wonderful honey… maybe next year…” he starts to trail off, his words slurring as he falls into a deep sleep. 

She stays awake, watching him, staring at his beautiful profile and wondering how she got so lucky and yet so unlucky at the same time. 

***

When Elvis calls her and asks her to run away with him to Hawaii she doesn’t hesitate. Not just because she’s afraid if she says no she might never see him again, but because Roger has lost interest in Corey and Jackie and moved to Nebraska to be with the maid. She’d stuck around for a bit with the baby, but then wanted a clean break from the mess in Frisco and decided to go back to be near her family. Roger had tried to do both, but in the end he told Gloria he was waiving his right to custody in favour of the maid and her little one. His other son. She doesn’t care for herself, but she’s devastated for the kids. Particularly Jackie, who’s such a Daddy’s girl. Corey had never been the same with his dad since that fateful night, and even though he was very small at the time, she feels like he remembers what happened.

The group that arrives in Honolulu is small and tightly knit. Only Larry and Jerry are there from the Mafia, although Charlie promises to arrive in a few days. Pat travels with Gloria and the kids to help out with childcare. She’d agreed to it after her sister had broken down one evening, telling her about her fears around Elvis’ health. When they see him at the resort neither think her fears were unfounded. His face is swollen and so is his belly, and he looks more tired than ever. But he’s joyful, being in Hawaii with Gloria at last. He’s only told Jerry and Larry that this isn’t really a vacation. To everyone else, he’s just having a break before his next tour. To them, he’s going and not coming back. He hates the idea of letting his fans down but he thinks he’ll end up doing it eventually anyway, and at least this way he’s got control over it. He’s set up as many traps as he possibly can for Joe and the Colonel to fall into before they realise what he’s doing and try to drag him back. But he feels old and tired now, even though he’s only 42. He’s lived a full life. It’s time to relax in a place he loves with the people he loves best. 

***

Elvis might be tired, but the sun and sand do revive him, and he spends his days playing with the kids and his nights trying his hardest to give Gloria the most pleasure he can. She tells him she doesn’t need multiple orgasms a night and he should rest, but he doesn’t listen. He hasn't had an erection for over a year now, but he makes up for it with his hands and his mouth. Gloria is only sad that she can’t give him anything back, kissing all over his body and gently sucking his soft dick. 

One night, he’s so caught up in holding and kissing her that he falls asleep without taking his pills and wakes up in a panic in the early hours of the morning. Scrambling around to look for them, he suddenly realises that he’s woken up with something else too. He touches himself but it fades quickly and his heart sinks with disappointment. His hand closes around the pill bottle but he pauses after he shakes them into his hand. Maybe a few more days without them and he’d be able to get hard again. He wants to do that for her, for his Glory. She deserves someone who can satisfy her, one last time. He doesn’t know which ones are causing the problem, so he stops taking them all. It doesn’t help with his pain, or his mood, but three days later he wakes up at 6am with a raging hard-on and remembers what Gloria had said about any time. 

“Glory,” he whispers, shaking her a little, but she’s fast asleep. 

His hand trails down her body until his fingers find her clit. Circling it, he watches her react in her sleep, wriggling and sighing. The pain in his belly is excruciating, but the ache in his dick is more important. And the feeling that this is their last chance to properly be together. Things have been escalating with the Colonel and he’s sure someone will be here soon to try and drag him back to Memphis. His fingers slip inside her pussy as he continues to stimulate her clit with his thumb, feeling her getting wetter as she gets closer to orgasm. When it hits she makes a surprised little noise, her eyes fluttering open and looking up at him. 

“Is it… are you?” She mumbles, confused and euphoric and hopeful all at the same time. 

“He’s awake,” Elvis replies, pulling the covers back to show her his hard, weeping dick. 

Her eyes are full of list staring at first his dick and then his face, thinking about how much she wants him inside her. How much she wants to feel close to him like that again. 

“Fuck. Oh I want you so bad, big boy. Please fuck me.”

He pushes her knees up so her feet come off the bed and positions himself between her legs. Slowly, gradually pushing inside her, watching her face, stopping when he can see it’s hurting her and carrying on when she gently touches his arm. When he’s fully inside he lies on top of her like he did that day on the beach in California, his head buried in her shoulder. He starts to move inside her slowly and her arms wrap around him as she feels tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She knows this is the last time. And not because he’s getting married, or because she is, but for a much more permanent reason this time. She knows he’s dying and she feels like he ran away to Hawaii to do it. She’ll never feel this again and as his movements speed up she can’t stop the tears spilling down her cheeks. 

“N-no. No, Elvis. Slow down. I want… I want to enjoy this. P-please.”

He moves his head to look at her as he forces himself to move slowly. When he sees her crying he knows she knows too. He presses his lips against hers as his tears start to flow. Their tears mingle as he rolls his hips against her, both of them sighing with pleasure even as their hearts break. 

“So tired, baby,” he mumbles against her lips. 

Her hand goes to his cheek. “I know. I know.”

“Haveta… has to end…” he continues, and she feels him speed up. 

Sobs wrack her body as she closes her eyes to feel him better. He comes with a small cry, and then he’s still. Softening inside her as he lies there, panting. She can’t stop weeping, and when he finally moves his head she sees he can’t either. 

“I wish I’d never let you leave that beach!” She cries out, unable to stop herself. 

“I wish I’d never gone. We shoulda run away together then, Glory. I shoulda been braver.”

She throws her arms around him, pulling him against her tightly. “It’s not your fault. Oh fuck. I love you so much. I don’t want you to… can’t you get well?”

She feels him shake his head against her. “Too late, baby. Too late fer all that. Jus’ have to hope the Colonel doesn’t get here first.”

First. Before he dies. Gloria wonders if she’ll ever stop crying. Then she remembers Corey and Jackie. She’ll have to.

***

Pat agrees to take the kids to one of the other islands for a couple of days when Elvis’s condition takes a radical turn for the worse. They say goodbye to him like they’ll see him again soon, and she doesn’t have the heart to tell them this is most likely goodbye for good. She thinks on some level they know, even though he’s trying to act cheerful for them, he’s been in bed for the past few days and can barely get out of it. She called Priscilla and got her to bring Lisa-Marie for a day too, so that his little girl could see her daddy for the last time. Priscilla and Pat get on well and Elvis’ ex-wife decides to go with them to the other island, make a proper vacation out of it. Part of her wants to stay and be with Elvis when he dies, but she sees he has someone else for that. 

She does stay to watch Larry marry them though. He performs a little ceremony whilst they sit in the bed in Elvis’ suite. Gloria helped Elvis dress and he’s in a white suit with a pale blue shirt underneath. She wears white too, and a garland of flowers in her hair. They even have a little cake afterwards, and Gloria throws her garland for Lisa-Marie and Jackie to fight over. Lisa-Marie wins. Any worries the kids might’ve had about Elvis were blown away by the wedding, tiny though it is, and they leave full of joy. Things get worse for Elvis as soon as they’re gone. He’s used up all his energy on staying cheerful for them, and on marrying Gloria. He lies down in the bed and sighs with exhaustion. Not long now. 

Gloria stays by his side for two days and nights, keeping herself awake with coffee and stimulants, watching over him. On the third day she feels herself getting drowsy. 

“I’m just going to take a little nap, big boy.”

His head moves slowly to look at her. She kisses him gently, and is about to pull away when he pushes his tongue into her mouth, his hand somehow making its way to the back of her neck. She savours the kiss, but she’s almost asleep. Her eyes close. 

“I love you, Gloria. You’re the love of my life. I’ve never known anyone like you. You’re my girl.” It takes a tremendous effort for Elvis to get the words out, but he has to say them. His head falls back on the pillow with exhaustion when he finishes. 

“Love you… too… Elvis…” the words slur as she falls into a deep sleep. Part of her brain is telling her she shouldn’t, but she’s been awake for too long and her body takes over. 

He watches her as he feels the life slipping away from his body. 

His Glory. In Hawaii. At last.

Softly, I will leave you softly / For my heart would break if you should wake and see me go / So I leave you softly, long before you miss me / Long before your arms can beg me stay / For one more hour or one more day

***

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[blush-boulevard]

𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓢𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓼

𝐄𝐤𝐤𝐨 𝐱 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐱- After Jinx sacrifices herself in an explosion to kill Warwick and save Vi, everyone believes she’s dead—except Ekko. Following a trail of cryptic clues she leaves behind, Ekko discovers Jinx is alive, injured, and struggling with her identity, setting the stage for a bittersweet reunion filled with unresolved tension and lingering hope.

Character x character/ Fluff/ Romance/ Arcane/ League of Legends/ Ekko/ Jinx/ One shot

word count: 891

@blush-boulevard｜𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬｜𝑅𝒰𝐿𝐸𝒮 𝒜𝒩𝒟 𝒢𝒰𝐼𝒟𝐸𝐿𝐼𝒩𝐸𝒮｜𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘｜𝓚-𝓹𝓸𝓹 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽｜𝓡𝓮𝓰𝓾𝓵𝓪𝓻 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

The wreckage of the factory was a graveyard. Twisted steel and charred concrete stretched out before him, the acrid scent of burnt metal and chemicals heavy in the air. Ekko picked his way through the ruins, his boots crunching over debris.

He shouldn’t have been here. Vi had begged him to let it go, to let her rest. But Jinx had never rested in her life, and Ekko wasn’t ready to believe she was gone.

Hours of searching yielded nothing but soot-stained wreckage. Frustration clawed at him until he spotted it—a piece of warped metal embedded in the rubble. He knelt, brushing away the ash. His heart skipped a beat.

The markings were unmistakable: part of Fishbones.

Turning the shard over in his hand, Ekko noticed something scratched into the edge—a chaotic scrawl that sent a chill down his spine: “You are Ice cold, Little Man.”

It wasn’t just a coincidence. She was leaving him a trail.

The graffiti began to appear as he searched the twisting streets of Zaun. In the alleys, on crumbling walls, hidden beneath soot and grime: wild, colorful scrawls taunting him with her signature chaotic style.

“Still cold, Little Man.”

“Wow, you aren’t very good at this.”

“Getting warmer.”

The messages were like a game, her voice echoing in his mind as he followed her path. Each clue was more personal than the last. He found a shattered gadget they’d sketched together as kids, now mangled but unmistakably hers. A scrap of a drawing tucked into the cracks of a wall—a messy, childlike sketch of him standing beside her, both of them grinning.

As the clues grew warmer, so did his memories. He could hear her laughter in the back of his mind, feel the tug of her hand pulling him through Zaun’s streets. But the closer he got, the darker the messages became.

“Too hot, Little Man. You’ll burn yourself.”

The last clue led him to a small, hidden workshop deep in the Undercity. The air was thick with the metallic tang of old machinery, the walls painted in her vibrant, chaotic style. The table in the center bore her final taunt, etched into the metal with a jagged tool: “You’re on fire, Little Man.”

“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

Her voice, rough and low, cut through the silence like a knife. Ekko turned, and there she was.

Jinx stepped out of the shadows, her electric blue hair dull with soot and her frame wrapped in bandages. She leaned against the wall, her grin weaker but still unmistakably hers.

“Jinx,” he breathed, relief flooding through him even as anger simmered beneath the surface. “You’re alive.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all mushy,” she said, waving him off. “Figured you’d find me eventually, Little Man. You always were too smart for your own good.”

Ekko closed the distance between them, his fists clenched. “You let us think you were gone. Vi thinks you’re dead! Do you know what you’ve done to her? To me?”

Her smirk faltered, her eyes flickering with something softer before she turned away. “What was I supposed to do, huh? Go back? Let you both see me like this?” She gestured to her injuries, the scars that crossed her arms and neck. “I’m not who I was, Ekko. I’m not even Jinx anymore. I’m just... broken.”

“You’re not broken,” he said softly, his anger ebbing into something warmer. “You’re just... lost. And I’ve found you, haven’t I?”

Her laughter was hollow, bitter. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re chasing a ghost, Little Man. Powder’s gone. And Jinx...” Her voice cracked. “Jinx doesn’t deserve to be found.”

“You’re wrong.” Ekko stepped closer, his voice steady. “I’ve seen her. In every clue you left, every stupid taunt. You’re still Jinx...and you're still powder. Even if you don’t want to admit it.”

For a moment, her mask slipped. Her eyes softened, and Ekko saw a flicker of the girl she’d been—the one who called him Little Man with a laugh that lit up Zaun.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, battered timepiece. Its hands were cracked, its face scratched, but it still ticked faintly, resilient against the odds. She pressed it into his hand, her fingers brushing against his.

“Take it,” she said softly. “So you’ll know I’m still ticking. Even if I’m not the person you want me to be.”

Ekko stared at the timepiece, his fingers curling around it. “You don’t have to do this alone, Jinx,” he said, his voice breaking. “You don’t have to run anymore.”

Her lip trembled, but she quickly masked it with a shaky grin. “You’re too good for this place, Little Man. Too good for me.”

He stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

For a moment, Jinx stood frozen, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Then, with a sudden burst of impulsive energy, she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. The contact was brief, fleeting, but it carried a weight that left Ekko speechless.

She pulled back, her cheeks flushed beneath the grime, and grinned at him—a real grin, filled with something genuine and raw. “Don’t think this means I’m going soft, Little Man,” she teased, though her voice wavered slightly.

Ekko smiled despite himself, his fingers tightening around the timepiece. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jinx let out a small laugh, the sound brighter than it had been in years. “Guess you’re stuck with me, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice warm. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Instead of disappearing into the shadows, Jinx lingered, sitting on the edge of the workbench as she leaned against Ekko. For the first time in what felt like forever, the silence between them wasn’t filled with tension—it was something softer, quieter. A beginning, not an ending.

[rainforestakiie]

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Bonfire~

i was travelling for 12 hours yesterday! i really wanted bonfire to be finished but i think there will be one final part! this is just finishing up what lucifer did! you might be pissed off with him here and if you are pissed off with him but also pity him a littl ~ i have succeded as a writer!

also @inubaki will you tell me now ? :(

Part 01 - Part 02 - Part 03 - Part 04

@adamsappleweek

Okay, maybe he was being unfair. Maybe he was being more than unfair—he was being mean, even cruel. But Lucifer couldn’t help it. The anger inside him was burning so fiercely it felt like it might tear him apart from the inside out. And underneath that rage was something much darker, more suffocating: jealousy. Bitter, gnawing jealousy that consumed him every time he saw the way Adam’s eyes lit up when he talked about Lute.

Why? Lucifer thought, his heart twisting painfully. Why is Adam so obsessed with her?

He doesn’t need her. He’s never needed anyone else but me. It had always been just the two of them, hadn’t it? They had made it through everything together—through childhood, through the awkward teenage years, through heartbreak and loneliness. Lucifer had been there through it all, always by Adam’s side, always the one Adam turned to. They didn’t need anyone else.

But now... now there was Lute. This Alpha with her punk attitude, her cool smirk, and her stupid band. And Adam couldn’t stop talking about her. It made Lucifer’s blood boil. Every time Adam brought her up, it was like a knife twisting deeper into his chest.

He didn’t even care about Lute. He didn’t care if she liked him, or if she texted him all the time, or even if she started following him around like a lost puppy. The only thing that mattered was Adam. Adam was his. He had always been his, hadn’t he? And now, it felt like Adam was slipping through his fingers, being pulled away by someone who didn’t even know him, not really. Not the way Lucifer did.

Lucifer sat in his now-empty living room, staring at the locked door to Adam’s bedroom. The echo of their argument still hung in the air, the words they had thrown at each other sharp and jagged, leaving invisible wounds that bled between them. Adam had never locked him out before. Never. Even in their worst fights, even when they were kids and one of them got angry, they always made up. They always found their way back to each other.

But this time felt different. It felt... final.

Lucifer’s phone buzzed again. Another message from Lute. She was waiting for him, excited about the bonfire. And for a moment, Lucifer thought about blowing her off, about telling her he wasn’t coming, about staying right here and waiting for Adam to unlock that door, to let him back in. But what good would that do? Adam had asked for space. Adam had locked him out.

Lucifer's chest tightened, his throat constricting painfully as he realized that, for the first time in his life, Adam had shut him out completely. And he didn’t know how to handle that. He didn’t know what to do with the emptiness it left behind.

Maybe that was why he had lashed out so harshly. Why he had thrown those cruel words at Adam, hoping that they’d bring him back, hoping that they’d make Adam see how much he needed him, how much he depended on their connection. But instead, it had only pushed Adam further away.

Lucifer sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his mistake settle over him like a heavy blanket. He hadn’t meant to hurt Adam. Not really. He just didn’t know how to handle this—this feeling of losing him. Of being replaced. He didn’t know how to make Adam see that no one could ever understand him the way Lucifer did, that no one would ever care for him the way Lucifer had always cared.

His phone buzzed again, and this time, Lucifer stared at it, at Lute’s message, for a long moment. Maybe if he kept playing this game, if he kept Lute close, it would distract him from the ache in his chest. Maybe if he let her think she was winning him over, it would make everything feel less... empty.

He glanced at the locked door once more, a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated that he had hurt Adam. Hated that Adam had hurt him in return. But right now, he didn’t know how to fix it. And maybe, for just tonight, he didn’t want to. Maybe he wanted to forget about the pain and jealousy swirling inside him, if only for a few hours.

Lucifer typed out a quick message to Lute, confirming he’d meet her at the bonfire. She responded instantly, her excitement practically leaping off the screen. He knew what he was doing—knew this would only make things worse between him and Adam. But he couldn’t stop himself. Maybe, just for tonight, he needed the distraction. He needed to feel like he was still in control of something, anything.

But as he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, Lucifer couldn’t shake the feeling that, with every step he took toward Lute, he was stepping further away from Adam. And that thought... that thought broke his heart more than he wanted to admit.

Lucifer glanced back at Adam’s locked door one final time before leaving the dorm, his heart aching with every step. The silence from behind that door felt heavier than the night sky above, a quiet reminder of the growing distance between them. The hallway seemed longer, emptier, without Adam by his side. He had always been there, hadn’t he? Always close, always within reach. But now… now it felt like Adam was slipping away, like sand falling through his fingers, and Lucifer didn’t know how to stop it.

He walked slowly down the street toward the open field where the bonfire ritual was held every year, the cool autumn air brushing against his skin. He wasn’t in any rush. He had no real desire to meet Lute. He certainly didn’t plan on anything serious with her, not in the way people might assume. The only person he would ever willingly give himself to, body and soul, was Adam. And the thought of anyone else touching him felt wrong—empty, even.

Lucifer sighed deeply, a pout forming on his lips as he let himself drift into the fantasy that always lingered in the back of his mind: Adam at his side.

They would walk together, hands intertwined, fingers softly brushing as they swung between them. He imagined the warmth of Adam’s skin, the familiar scent that always calmed him, that grounded him. The thought made him hum softly, a dreamy moan escaping his lips as his mind painted a picture of the two of them, not just friends, but partners—walking through the cool night air toward the bonfire.

They would dance beneath the stars, their bodies swaying in perfect sync. They’d exchange apple cider and laughter, their hands finding one another again and again, seeking comfort and familiarity in every touch. And later, much later, they’d sit by the glowing embers of the fire, sharing an apple under the moonlight, sealing their fates together. The crown of red carnations and apples, a symbol of love and devotion, would rest on his golden hair, only to be shared with Adam—the only one who had ever mattered.

But as the warmth of the fantasy wrapped around him, Lucifer forced himself to stop. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, and he bit down hard on his lip to keep from whimpering. There was no use in dreaming of a future that Adam didn’t even want. And as much as he longed for that closeness, for Adam to be his in every way, Lucifer couldn’t change the reality that stretched between them like a yawning chasm.

“Hello, Lucifer,” came a voice from the side, pulling him back to the present. Old Betty stood by the water’s edge, her sharp eyes narrowing as she looked him over.

Lucifer nodded at her out of respect, though his heart wasn’t in it.

“Evening, Betty," he greeted, his voice tight, his smile strained.

Betty frowned, glancing behind him as if expecting someone else. “No Adam again, I see?”

The mention of Adam brought an immediate sting to Lucifer’s chest, his frown deepening.

“Adam’s sick,” he lied, his voice colder than he intended. “He was going to come with me, but he couldn’t make it.”

Betty clicked her tongue in disapproval, shaking her head as she adjusted the crown she held for him.

“Kids these days,” she muttered. “A little cold and it’s the end of the world.”

Lucifer felt his temper flare, the urge to snap at her almost overwhelming.

She doesn’t understand, he thought bitterly, but he bit back the retort, forcing his face into a neutral expression as Betty placed the red carnations and apple crown on his head. It felt heavier than it should have, a weight that pressed down on him with the reminder of everything he didn’t have.

"Now remember," Betty began, her voice instructive as she wove the crown through his golden hair, "This crown stays on until you share the apple with your chosen partner. Only then do you take it off."

Lucifer barely heard her, the words meaningless in the sea of emotions swirling inside him. He gave a curt nod, rolling his eyes when her back was turned. As he walked away, he could hear the murmurs of disapproval behind him, the whispers about him being the strangest omega the town had ever seen. He should have let their words roll off his back, but tonight, they stung.

Maybe it’s true, he thought bitterly. Maybe I am strange. Maybe that’s why Adam doesn’t want me anymore.

Lucifer’s steps slowed as he reached the open field, his gaze drawn to the happy omegas fluttering about, their laughter and excitement filling the air as they rushed to find someone to connect with. The sight only deepened his sense of isolation, of not belonging. How he hated it—hated the rituals, hated the expectations, hated how everyone seemed so happy while he stood there, miserable and alone.

“Lucifer!” A voice cut through the crowd, bright and excited. He groaned inwardly.

Lute’s voice rang out again, louder this time. “Lucifer! Over here!”

He forced a smile, slipping the mask back on, his charm dialed up as he turned toward her. The way Lute’s cheeks flushed when she saw him told him it was working. He took a moment to observe her crown—peaches and daisies, an odd choice but fitting for her.

Not like it mattered, he reminded himself. Lute wasn’t the one he wanted.

“Hello, Lute,” he chimed smoothly, his voice warm and inviting despite the emptiness he felt inside.

Lute beamed as she approached him, stopping just in front of him with an excited gleam in her eyes.

“I’m so happy you invited me,” she said, almost shyly. “I thought you weren’t going to.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Lucifer lied effortlessly, though his heart wasn’t in it.

All he could think about was Adam. What was he doing now? Was he thinking about Lucifer at all? Did he miss him the way Lucifer missed him, or was he glad for the distance? The thought of Adam sitting alone in his room, the door still locked between them, twisted the knife in his chest even deeper.

This was supposed to be our night, Lucifer thought bitterly. Not hers.

Lucifer turned on the charm, effortlessly slipping into the role he had mastered so well. He smiled sweetly, batting his long lashes in just the right way, and laughed softly whenever Lute said something even mildly amusing. He stood close, letting his hand brush hers, and watched with quiet satisfaction as her cheeks flushed a deeper red each time. It was all too easy, even if his heart wasn’t in it—especially because his heart wasn’t in it.

Lute was kind. She was attentive and sweet, always trying to understand him. That much Lucifer couldn’t deny. But when she asked, “Have I proven myself to you yet?”

A flicker of confusion flashed across his mind.

Prove herself?

He struggled to remember, before it clicked—oh, right. He had made her believe she had to prove she wasn’t like other alphas.

His lips curved into a grin, and he let his eyes widen in that big, innocent way he knew always worked.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “You have. You’re not like other alphas at all.”

Lute beamed at the compliment, her whole face lighting up as if he had just given her the world.

“I’m glad,” she said, stepping a little closer. “Would it be alright if I asked what bad experience you had with an alpha? I want to know what hurt you.”

Lucifer hesitated for a split second, but the lie rolled off his tongue with practiced ease.

“There was an alpha I really liked,” he said, his voice dropping, soft and wounded. “But they hid who they really were. They were cruel to me… hurt me.”

He wrapped his arms around himself, as if shielding his body from invisible bruises. His eyes fell to the ground, and he rubbed his arms for dramatic effect.

Lute’s expression softened instantly, her eyes wide with concern and sadness.

“I’m so sorry, Lucifer,” she whispered. “I would never do that to you. Can I… can I hug you?”

Lucifer forced a shy nod, and Lute gently pulled him into her arms. Her hands curled awkwardly around him, her grip uncertain. It wasn’t right. The hug felt uncomfortable, cold, and stiff. There was none of the warmth he craved, none of the sense of belonging he always felt in Adam’s arms. But Lucifer played along, letting out a fake sigh of relief, pretending to melt into the embrace.

It’s not like Adam’s hugs, he thought, bitterness rising in his throat. Adam’s hugs were soft, secure, home.

Lute’s embrace felt like he was trying to fit into something that wasn’t made for him. It left him hollow and empty.

“Thank you,” Lucifer muttered hastily, pulling back quicker than he intended. Lute smiled brightly, oblivious to his discomfort, and took his hand. Her fingers were warm, but they didn’t ignite the same fire that Adam’s touch always did.

She stepped closer, her breath soft against his cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Lucifer’s heart stilled in his chest, his lips parting in shock.

Kiss?

His mind raced. He didn’t want this. He wanted his first kiss to be with Adam—only with Adam. That moment, that intimacy, was something he had always saved for him. No one else.

“I… uh…” he stuttered, his voice trembling, his body frozen with panic. But before he could say no, before he could push her away, Lute leaned in, her eyes fluttering shut.

Lucifer barely had time to react before her lips pressed against his. His eyes widened in horror as the kiss landed on his mouth, her lips warm but all wrong.

This isn’t right. This isn’t Adam.

His body went rigid, every part of him screaming in protest. And then, over her shoulder, he saw him.

“Adam,” he gasped, the name slipping from his lips as soon as Lute pulled back.

Adam stood at the edge of the field, his face unreadable, but the hurt in his eyes unmistakable.

“Adam, wait!” Lucifer called out, panic flooding his chest as Adam turned to walk away.

Without thinking, Lucifer pushed past Lute, desperate to reach him.

“Adam!” he yelled again, his voice cracking with desperation. But before he could get far, Lute grabbed his arm.

“Lucifer, what’s going on?” she asked, concern evident in her tone.

“Adam saw us,” Lucifer panted, his heart pounding in his chest. “He saw us kiss—”

Lute’s eyes widened with understanding.

“Oh,” she whispered, guilt flashing across her face. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Yanking his arm free from her grip, Lucifer spun around to face her, his anger bubbling to the surface.

“You’ve been ignoring him for weeks!” he snapped. “And now you didn’t mean to hurt him?”

Lute looked stricken, taken aback by the accusation. “It wasn’t like that,” she stammered. “I just… I liked you so much, Lucifer. I didn’t think Adam would mind. He’s still my friend.”

Lucifer’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing.

“This won’t work,” he said, his voice sharp. “Adam’s my best friend. He means everything to me. I can’t be with the alpha he likes.”

The words twisted painfully inside him, the bitter taste of them making him want to scream.

The alpha Adam likes. It felt like a knife to the chest. He didn’t want Adam to like anyone but him.

Lute’s eyes widened in shock.

“What?” she gasped. “So you’re going to break this off because of Adam? If he’s really your friend, he’d understand.”

Lucifer puffed his cheeks, stubbornness and frustration clashing inside him.

“He’s hurt!” he yelled. “I don’t want to hurt him even more! Can you imagine what it’s like to watch the person you care about with someone else? I won’t do that to him!”

Lute blinked, her mouth opening and closing as if she hadn’t considered that possibility. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, and she looked away, swallowing hard.

“You’re right…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “We can’t be together. It would hurt Adam too much.”

Lucifer felt a pang of guilt at the sadness in her voice, but it was quickly swallowed by the overwhelming need to find Adam.

“I didn’t mean to…” Lute’s voice trembled; her eyes filled with regret. “I didn’t mean to lead him on.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed with anger.

“Of course not,” he said sharply. “Alphas wouldn’t dare do such a thing, would they?”

Lute recoiled at his sarcasm, and for a brief moment, silence hung between them like a heavy weight. Without another word, Lucifer turned on his heel, heart pounding, and ran after Adam. He had to make this right. He’ll forgive me again. Adam has too, just like before.

Lucifer clung to the belief like a lifeline—Adam will forgive him. Just like before, when Lilith came between them. Adam had forgiven him then, hadn't he? Because Adam always forgave him. Because their connection was different, deeper than anything anyone else could understand. They were bound to each other, always meant to find their way back no matter what. Adam has to forgive me... he always does.

But even as Lucifer tried to convince himself of this, there was a knot in his chest tightening with every step he took. A small, creeping doubt slithered into his heart, whispering that maybe this time was different.

His boots kicked up dust as he stumbled across the open field, the flickering light of the bonfire casting long shadows across the couples gathering close around it. He moved quickly, his eyes darting from face to face, frantically searching for him. He barely registered the alphas and betas who called out to him, their voices drowned by the panic thudding in his ears. He brushed past them, ignoring their curious glances and warm greetings, his mind only on Adam.

Each second that passed without finding him felt like a lifetime. His throat burned with the unspoken words, with the desperate apology he needed to give. But more than anything, he just wanted to see Adam’s face. To see him smile, even just a little. To hear him say that everything was going to be okay, like he always did.

But what if this time… what if Adam didn’t say that? What if Lucifer had pushed too far this time?

He swallowed hard, his chest heaving with the weight of that thought. No, he couldn't think that way. Adam had to forgive him. He always forgave him, didn’t he? He couldn’t stand the idea of a world where Adam didn't come back to him. Where Adam shut him out for good.

The bonfire roared higher as the evening pressed on, and the warmth from the flames licked at Lucifer’s skin, but he felt cold inside. His stomach twisted painfully as he caught sight of couples exchanging crowns, sharing their apples, sealing their fates together in front of the blazing fire. It should’ve been him and Adam, sitting together by the flames, hands entwined, their future entwined with it. It should’ve been them.

A pang of jealousy sliced through him, sharp and bitter, as he imagined it all. Them laughing, nuzzling close, sharing soft kisses as their friends cheered them on. His mind filled with images of the life they should have—would have—if he could just make Adam see it. He had to find him.

“Adam!” he called out, his voice raw, strained with desperation. He pushed through the crowd, growing more frantic with each second that passed. Where could he be?

Lucifer's breath hitched in his throat when he spotted a flash of dark hair at the edge of the crowd, near the outskirts of the field. Adam. His heart leapt into his throat. He was standing alone, his back turned to the fire, looking out over the horizon like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Without hesitation, Lucifer sprinted toward him, ignoring the way his heart pounded painfully against his ribs. As he approached, the weight of what had just happened hit him all over again. Adam had seen him—kissing someone else. Kissing Lute. The image of Adam walking away, shoulders tense, face unreadable, flashed in his mind like a haunting echo.

He stopped just a few feet behind Adam, his breath catching in his throat, his hands trembling at his sides.

“Adam,” he whispered, his voice fragile, as if it might shatter in the air between them.

Adam didn’t turn around. He didn’t move at all.

Lucifer’s chest tightened painfully.

“Please,” he begged, stepping closer. “Please, just… just look at me.”

There was a long, suffocating silence before Adam finally turned, his eyes distant, and Lucifer’s heart sank. The warmth, the softness he was used to seeing in Adam’s gaze—it wasn’t there. Instead, there was something far worse: disappointment.

“Lucifer,” Adam began, his voice flat, tired. “What are you doing here? You hardly know Lute.”

Lucifer swallowed hard, his mind racing, trying to find the right words, the right way to fix this.

“I-I know. I didn’t mean for it to happen. That kiss… it didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.” His voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath. “I swear, Adam, I didn’t want it.”

Adam’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding as his normally warm eyes sharpened into cold slits. “Didn’t want it?” he repeated, voice edged with bitterness. “Then why didn’t you push her away, Lucifer? Why didn’t you stop her?”

Lucifer’s breath hitched, shame pouring over him like ice water. He could barely manage to form the words, the weight of his own guilt suffocating him. “I—” His voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “I froze… I just couldn’t…”

“You froze?” Adam’s voice rose, cutting through the night like a blade, every syllable laced with disbelief and frustration.

“Lucifer, I was there. I saw it. You weren’t frozen—you looked like you wanted it. You looked like…” Adam's voice cracked slightly, the betrayal bleeding through, “like you were enjoying it.”

Lucifer’s heart broke at the sight of Adam’s pained expression, the flicker of hurt in his emerald eyes. Each word Adam spoke felt like a dagger twisting deeper into his chest.

“No, Adam, it wasn’t like that. You don’t understand,” Lucifer pleaded, stepping forward desperately, reaching out for him like he was slipping away. “It was a mistake, a terrible mistake. I didn’t want it.”

But Adam pulled back, jerking his hand away before Lucifer could touch him. His eyes hardened, his posture tense.

“Lucifer, stop,” Adam said, his voice dropping to a quiet, icy calm. The warmth that usually softened his words was gone, replaced by something distant, unreachable. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep playing with people’s feelings like they don’t matter. You hurt Lilith, Lucifer. Did you even know she was there? She saw the whole thing.”

Lilith. Always Lilith.

But Lucifer didn’t care about her, never had, not in the way everyone believed. His mind, his heart, had always belonged to Adam. But how could he say that? How could he make Adam understand? His breath quickened, panic clawing at his throat.

“I don’t care about Lilith!” Lucifer burst out, his voice ragged with desperation. “She doesn’t matter. She never mattered!”

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise at the outburst, but then they narrowed again, his voice tightening in response. “Lucifer, this isn’t about you not caring about Lilith. This is about you using people. You can’t just… keep bouncing from one person to the next, trying to fill some void. First Lilith, now Lute—don’t you see? You’re just running from your feelings, and it’s not fair. Not to them.”

Lucifer’s fists clenched at his sides, his entire body trembling. He could feel himself spiralling, every word Adam said tearing him apart.

“You don’t understand,” he hissed, his voice shaking. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

Adam’s brow furrowed, his tone softening just enough to show the concern lurking beneath the anger. “Then tell me, Luci. Help me understand.”

The sound of his nickname on Adam’s lips should have soothed him, but it didn’t. It only made the ache in Lucifer’s chest deepen, made him feel like he was drowning.

“I can’t!” he practically screamed, his voice raw with emotion, with frustration, with helplessness. “Just stop asking!”

Adam’s shoulders sagged, the fight slowly draining from him. His eyes dimmed, the light that had always been there—the connection that had always tethered them—was flickering, fading.

“Okay,” Adam whispered, the word barely audible. “Okay, Lucifer. I’ll stop asking. But I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself.”

“I’m not,” Lucifer shot back, though the conviction in his voice faltered. His heart was pounding, erratic and painful. “I’m fine. I don’t need you to worry about me.”

But Adam shook his head, the sadness in his eyes now all too visible. “I don’t know how not to worry about you, Lucifer. I’ve always looked out for you. That’s what I’ve always done. But maybe… maybe that’s the problem.”

Lucifer’s stomach dropped.

“What do you mean?” he demanded, a sudden chill settling in his bones.

He reached out again, desperate to close the growing distance between them, but Adam stepped back. Lucifer’s heart sank deeper.

“I think…” Adam’s voice caught in his throat, and he had to pause, swallowing down whatever emotion was threatening to break free. “I think our friendship might need to… change.”

Change. That word felt like poison, like a death sentence. Lucifer’s eyes widened, his voice dark and trembling with denial. “Change how? I don’t want anything to change. You’re my best friend. My—” He stopped himself, the rest of the sentence too painful to say.

“I know,” Adam murmured, rubbing the back of his neck, his discomfort clear. “But we’re too close, Lucifer. We’re crossing boundaries we don’t even realize. And it’s messing with us. We’re always stepping on each other’s toes, and we’re hurting each other without meaning to.”

Lucifer shook his head violently, his chest tightening as he tried to reject the very idea. “No. No, I don’t want to do that. I don’t want us to change. Everything’s fine the way it is.”

Adam’s eyes softened, and Lucifer could see the struggle in him—the pain of saying what he believed needed to be said. “But it’s not fine, Lucifer. It hasn’t been fine for a while. You just don’t see it yet.” His voice was barely a whisper now, thick with emotion. “We need space. We shouldn’t share everything, not the way we do. Not clothes, not a bed, not… not our lives.”

“No,” Lucifer growled, his voice firm but laced with desperation. His chest felt hollow, like someone had reached in and torn something vital away from him. “I won’t do that. I won’t let you put distance between us.”

Adam’s gaze lingered on Lucifer’s face, the sadness in his eyes deepening with every word. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I swear I’m not. But I think space is the only way we stop hurting each other.”

Lucifer’s breath hitched, his vision blurring as tears threatened to spill. His voice broke as he whispered, “I don’t want to lose you.”

Adam took a slow, shaky breath, his own eyes wet with unshed tears. “You won’t lose me, Lucifer. I’ll always be here. But we need to be better. Healthier. For both of us.”

Lucifer felt like the world was slipping through his fingers, the only thing he’d ever truly loved moving farther and farther away. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Lucifer’s world seemed to tilt on its axis, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. The words Adam had just spoken hung in the air like a dagger, cutting deep, deeper than anything Lute or Lilith could have ever done.

Change?

Space?

The very idea of distancing himself from Adam, of pulling apart the threads that tied them so closely together, felt like a slow, suffocating death. His heart clenched painfully as he stared at Adam, his mind scrambling to understand. Adam was saying they—the one constant in Lucifer’s life—needed to change. That they were too close. Too involved. But that was how it was supposed to be! That’s how it had to be!

“No,” Lucifer snapped, his voice a trembling echo of the panic swelling in his chest. “I don’t want things to change. I don’t want space. I don’t need space. Why are you saying this?”

Adam’s expression was pained, but steady. His emerald eyes held a tenderness that only twisted the knife deeper. “Lucifer… I’m saying this because I care about you. You know I do. But we… we’re hurting each other, even if we don’t mean to.”

Lucifer’s heart thudded in his chest, his stomach twisting violently. “You think I’m hurting you? Is that it? You think I’m some kind of burden to you?”

“No, Luci—" Adam began, his voice breaking slightly on the old nickname, the one that usually made Lucifer's heart flutter. But now, it felt like a farewell, like a fragment of the past slipping through his fingers.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. I love you. You’re my best friend. But sometimes…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Sometimes love gets tangled up in ways that can hurt. We’re getting tangled, and I don’t want that. Not for you. Not for me.”

Lucifer felt the ground beneath him crumble. Love? Adam loved him? But not in the way that matters.

Adam doesn’t love him the same way Lucifer loves him.

His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with a storm of emotions he didn’t know how to contain. He felt cold. So cold. Adam’s soft voice, his gentle explanation—it was like watching someone walk away while telling you they still care. Still care while they leave you behind.

“No,” Lucifer growled, a low, dangerous sound that vibrated in his chest.

“You’re wrong. I’m not tangled up in anything. You’re not a burden to me, and I don’t need space.” His eyes flared, desperate, wild. “Why would you even say that? I need you. I’ve always needed you. And you… you’ve always been there for me! Why would you want to ruin that?”

Adam closed his eyes for a moment, his hand lifting to rub the back of his neck—a nervous habit Lucifer knew too well.

“I don’t want to ruin anything,” he said softly. “But I think I’ve been too close for too long, and it’s clouded things, made it hard to see what’s good for both of us.”

“I don’t care!” Lucifer snapped. “I don’t care what you think is good! What’s good is us—being together, being close. You said it yourself. You always look out for me, Adam. That’s what we do!”

Adam’s shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of Lucifer’s words settling between them like an unspoken truth.

“I know. I know I said that,” he murmured, his voice so gentle, it felt like it might break. “But I can’t keep looking out for you the way I have been. It’s not fair to either of us. I don’t think I know where the line is anymore.”

Lucifer’s chest tightened, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his vision blurred with unshed tears.

A line?

There had never been a line between them. They were supposed to be one unit, always together, always entwined in each other’s lives. How could Adam suddenly want a line, a separation, when Lucifer couldn’t even imagine a life where they weren’t connected in every way?

“This isn’t fair,” Lucifer whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You can’t just decide this. You can’t just… pull away. I need you, Adam. I need you.”

Adam’s face softened with heartbreak, and he stepped closer, his hand reaching out as if to touch Lucifer’s arm, but he hesitated. “I’ll still be here, Lucifer. I’m not going anywhere. I just think… we need to step back, even if it hurts. Because if we don’t, we’re going to keep breaking each other apart.”

Lucifer stared at Adam’s outstretched hand, his heart breaking into pieces he didn’t know how to hold together. “You think this won’t break me? You think being apart from you won’t tear me apart?”

Adam’s hand fell back to his side, his expression filled with sorrow. “I don’t want to tear you apart, Lucifer. That’s why I’m saying this now… before we do more damage.”

Lucifer felt the world spin around him, the firelight from the bonfire in the distance flickering like the last dying embers of something he had once believed would never burn out. His chest ached; every breath felt like a struggle.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice broken. “I don’t want to lose us.”

Adam’s eyes shimmered with tears he was fighting to hold back.

“You won’t lose me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we have to be different, Lucifer. We must be healthier. I don’t want to be the reason you get hurt anymore.”

Lucifer shook his head violently, refusing to accept it. Refusing to believe that space—that pulling away—could ever be the solution. He felt like he was drowning, like the air was slipping through his fingers, and all he could see was Adam fading away from him.

“It’ll be good for us.”

Lucifer felt his heart shatter in his chest as Adam turned away slightly, the finality of his words settling in. The space between them had never felt so vast, so cold. He had never felt so alone.

~#~

The following weeks were unbearable for Lucifer. He hadn't truly believed Adam when he said things had to change. In the back of his mind, he had clung to the belief that Adam would keep his door open for him at night, still let him steal his clothes in the mornings, and still be there as if nothing had changed. But everything had changed.

The shift in the air was strong, suffocating. Adam's door stayed shut now, locked every night as if to draw a line between them that Lucifer could no longer cross. No longer were Adam’s shirts or jackets strewn about for Lucifer to snatch. He couldn’t even sneak a pair of Adam's boxer shorts when he wasn’t looking.

It was maddening, the way Adam had suddenly become so guarded, so possessive of his own space. It felt like Adam had built walls around the home they once shared, turning it into a fortress that Lucifer could no longer breach.

Lute’s texts came every day, reminders of the rift between him and Adam. But Lucifer didn’t even open them.

What was the point? Lucifer had already won. He had made sure nothing would happen between Lute and Adam. Now, there was nothing left for Lucifer to fight for.

And then it hit him. They had only one week left before they graduated from college. Lucifer felt his stomach drop. He realized with a painful jolt that he didn’t even know what Adam’s future plans were. He had no idea which university Adam was going to—or if he was even going at all. All those late-night talks about following each other, staying together in the same town, maybe even attending the same university… that future felt like a dream now, something distant and impossible.

Lucifer had chosen a university months ago, but without Adam’s voice in his life, he had picked blindly. The thought of them going to different schools had gnawed at him in a quiet, desperate way, but he had convinced himself that maybe—just maybe—they would end up in the same place by chance. Now, though, that hope felt as fragile as glass.

"Um, hi," Adam’s voice broke through Lucifer’s thoughts as he returned from class, a gentle smile on his lips.

Lucifer blinked, momentarily stunned.

“H-hi," he stammered, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. “How… how are you?”

"I’m good," Adam said softly, almost too softly, as if the weight of their shared history lingered between them. "Really good. You?"

Lucifer bit his lip, his own answer barely a whisper. “Good.”

But it was a lie. He wasn’t good. He was drowning, every day, in the absence of Adam’s presence. He ached with missing him.

Adam dropped his bag by the door, stretching his arms above his head in that casual, effortless way he always did. Lucifer’s gaze fell to the small strip of skin that peeked out from beneath Adam's hoodie, a flash of vulnerability, of warmth. It was the same familiar sight that used to make his heart race, but now it only served as a reminder of everything slipping away.

"Just finished my last exam," Adam said, his voice light.

"Oh," Lucifer murmured, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. He watched as Adam moved to sit down, not close, but still near enough to feel the gravity between them. "How did it go?"

Adam smiled, but there was a shadow in it. "It went well. I think I could’ve done better, but... it went well."

Lucifer nodded, his voice a soft echo. "Good. Mine went okay too. Could’ve done better."

There was a long, aching pause. Then, almost too casually, Adam asked, "Have you picked your university?"

Lucifer’s heart sank, the question stabbing at the raw wound of their distance.

“Y-yeah," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I’ve chosen Sunpeak University."

Adam’s expression didn’t change much, but Lucifer saw the flicker of something in his eyes. "That’s a good choice," Adam replied, his tone neutral, almost careful. "I’ve chosen Blackwood University."

The words hit Lucifer like a punch to the chest. His face crumpled, the hope he had held onto so desperately slipping through his fingers.

“I… I didn’t think you’d choose Blackwood," he said softly, trying to hide the crack in his voice.

Adam shrugged, but the distance in his gesture was unmistakable. "It has good credits for the course I want to study."

Lucifer couldn’t breathe for a moment, the room suddenly feeling too small, too cold.

“Oh," he exhaled shakily. "Sunpeak and Blackwood are… they’re more than an hour apart."

Adam nodded, the delicate look on his face twisting the knife even deeper.

“We can still see each other on weekends," he said gently, as if trying to soothe the hurt that was etched across Lucifer's face. "It’s not goodbye."

But Lucifer’s heart clenched as he stared at Adam, his eyes wide with the quiet devastation he could no longer hold back.

“Then why," he whispered, his voice breaking, "Why does it feel like goodbye?"

The silence that followed was more heartbreaking than any words could have been.

"Time apart will help us," Adam finally said, his voice soft but firm, as though he truly believed the words would heal the gaping wound between them. "We’ve been suffocating one another for so long. We’ve forgotten how to breathe on our own. This will do us good."

Lucifer couldn’t believe him. The words didn’t make sense, not in the way Adam meant them to. Suffocating? No. He had never felt more alive than when they were together, their lives entangled in a mess of late-night laughter, quiet moments of shared silence, and fleeting touches that meant more than either could ever say. Adam’s reasoning felt like a cruel twist of logic that Lucifer couldn’t grasp. His large blue eyes locked on Adam’s face, wide with hurt, searching for something—anything—that would make this make sense.

His jaw tightened as he pulled his knees up tighter against his chest, trying to make himself as small as he felt. His arms wrapped around his legs like a shield, as though he could hold himself together if he just squeezed hard enough.

"We’re still friends, Lucifer," Adam added, his tone warm, as if that was supposed to be enough.

Lucifer bit down hard on his bottom lip, the familiar ache in his chest growing heavier, threatening to swallow him whole. "Best friends?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, almost childlike in its fragility, like a plea that he knew he shouldn’t have to make.

"Always," Adam promised, and though the word sounded kind, it felt hollow, like a bridge that was already crumbling beneath them.

Lucifer let out a shaky breath, the sound filled with the weight of resigned acceptance. He nodded, slowly at first, as though each movement drained a bit more of the fight from him. His fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeves, gripping the soft cotton of his hoodie until his knuckles turned white. He looked at Adam, seeing him not as the person who had always been his safe harbour, but as someone standing on the other side of a growing distance—someone he could no longer reach the way he used to. Vulnerable and small, Lucifer swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling the words clawing their way out despite the pain they brought.

"Can… can I have a hug then?" His voice cracked as he spoke, the plea hanging in the air between them. "Please? One last hug?"

Adam’s expression softened, and for a moment, Lucifer thought he saw a flicker of the old Adam—the Adam who would have never let him feel this kind of loneliness. Adam shifted closer, the space between them shrinking, though it still felt like miles. His arms spread wide, offering that familiar comfort.

"You never have to ask for a hug, Lucifer," Adam whispered, pulling him in. "That won’t change."

Lucifer didn’t wait. He lunged into Adam’s embrace, his face pressing against Adam’s chest as his arms wrapped around him tightly, almost desperately. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the wave of tears that threatened to break free. He didn’t want to cry, not in front of Adam, not now. He wanted to hold on to this moment, to memorize the feel of Adam’s arms around him, the warmth of his body, the rhythm of his breath. He wanted to hold on to the illusion that everything was still okay, even if it was just for a few more seconds.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice trembling, barely audible over the sound of his own heartbeat. But inside, Lucifer knew this was more than a hug—it was a goodbye dressed up as something less painful, a farewell disguised as comfort.

As Adam held him, Lucifer wished time would freeze, that the world would stop moving forward, so that he wouldn’t have to let go—because once he did, he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

~#~

The following months were nothing short of agonizing. Every day stretched into an eternity of silence, a hollow space where Adam’s voice used to live. Lucifer could barely function. His mind felt like it was drowning, unable to focus on anything but the absence of Adam. It was as though his world had been stripped of colour, leaving everything muted, dull, and lifeless. The first few weeks were the worst. He would sit, for hours on end, staring blankly at the glowing screen of his phone, waiting—no, begging—for a message, a sign, anything from Adam.

Every vibration, every notification would send a jolt through him, hope blooming in his chest like a fragile flower, only to be cruelly crushed when it wasn’t from Adam.

Lucifer’s fingers would hover over the keyboard, sending message after message, searching for the right words that might break through the silence between them. He tried everything—funny anecdotes, inside jokes, even memes that used to make Adam laugh until his sides hurt. But the screen stayed stubbornly blank, no response, no acknowledgment. He tried to act casual at first, pretending as if it was just a rough patch, something that would pass.

“Hey, just thought of you today!"—send. Silence. "Remember that time we stayed up all night laughing? Miss you."—send.

More silence.

It was unbearable. It was as though Adam had disappeared, not just from his life, but from the world entirely.

Lucifer’s desperation began to grow, messages becoming longer, more frantic. “I’m sorry, Adam. Please, just talk to me. I miss you. I can’t do this without you.”

He pressed send with trembling fingers, feeling the weight of every unanswered word. His chest tightened painfully, each rejection feeling like a fresh wound. He had never felt this helpless before, this vulnerable.

The emptiness was maddening. He felt as though he was screaming into a void, his words falling into the abyss where Adam’s replies should have been. The silence on the other end was deafening, a cruel reminder of the distance that had grown between them. Lucifer wasn’t sure if it was worse that Adam wasn’t responding, or that Adam might have seen his messages and simply chosen not to answer. The thought tore at him, ripping through his heart like shards of glass.

It became a ritual of sorts—waking up, reaching for his phone, and sending another message, as if one more could somehow bridge the chasm between them. He kept trying, each time hoping that maybe, just maybe, this would be the one that Adam would respond to. But it was hopeless. Adam didn’t reply. Not even a laugh at a meme, not a single word.

Lucifer's room became a prison of memories, every corner haunted by the ghost of Adam's presence. The bed felt too big, too cold without him. He would lie awake at night, staring up at the ceiling, replaying every conversation, every touch, every smile. The phantom of Adam’s laughter echoed in his ears, a cruel reminder of what he’d lost. Even the scent of Adam’s old hoodie, the one Lucifer used to steal, had faded, leaving only the hollow fabric behind.

And yet, despite it all, Lucifer couldn’t stop. He couldn’t let go. His heart clung to the hope that maybe, one day, Adam would remember him, that he would pick up his phone and type a reply, even if it was just a few words. He imagined it sometimes, a single message lighting up his phone in the middle of the night: Hey. I miss you too. But each morning, he woke up to the same, empty screen.

Every day felt like another cut, a slow, agonizing death by a thousand tiny wounds. The world moved on around him, people went about their lives, but Lucifer was stuck in that endless limbo, waiting for something that might never come. Time apart was supposed to help them, but all it had done was carve a deeper, more painful void in his heart.

One night, he found himself scrolling through their old conversations, the ones from when things were good, when they were happy. His fingers traced over the words, each message a reminder of how much they had meant to each other. He read through their jokes, their shared dreams, the whispered promises of forever. He lingered on the messages where Adam called him his best friend, his partner in everything. Now, they felt like distant echoes of a life that wasn’t his anymore.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard again, heart pounding as he considered sending another message, something more desperate this time.

Please, Adam. I love you. Don’t leave me like this. But even as the words formed in his mind, he knew they would fall into the same abyss as the others. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up, how much more of this silence he could endure.

His hands trembled as he finally typed something simple, something that wouldn’t show how broken he felt inside: I miss you.

He pressed send, a final, small offering to the void.

And once again, the silence was the only thing that answered him.

Without Adam, Lucifer felt as though he were adrift in a vast ocean, utterly alone. The world outside continued to move, but he remained stuck in a moment that felt like a cruel twist of fate. His parents had cut him off the moment he presented as an Omega, locking him out of their lives without a word of explanation, as if he had never existed. The silence that had followed felt like a heavy shroud, wrapping around him tightly, suffocating in its grip. They had disowned him in the most brutal way, as though his very identity had been a betrayal.

Each day without Adam deepened Lucifer's sense of isolation. He was unaccustomed to the void left in Adam’s absence, the hollow ache in his chest that never quite faded. The nights were the hardest. Sleep evaded him, replaced by thoughts spiralling into the dark corners of his mind, where memories of Adam danced like shadows. He was haunted by the laughter they had shared, the whispers in the dark, the promises of a future that now felt impossibly distant.

Then, one day, months later, Lucifer found himself picking up his iPhone, almost as if it were a lifeline. His heart leaped into his throat, a mix of hope and trepidation flooding through him. As he swiped the screen, his eyes widened, and a rush of tears threatened to spill over. Happiness unfurled across his chest, blooming like a fragile flower breaking through the frost.

Hey. I’m coming home this summer. I’ll see you then.

Adam’s message glowed brightly against the backdrop of his otherwise darkened world.

Lucifer inhaled sharply, feeling the weight of the universe lift just slightly. He clenched his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white with the pressure, as if he were holding on to the only thing that mattered in that moment. Adam was coming home. The prospect of seeing him again ignited a spark of hope that he thought he had lost forever.

Can’t wait to see you, he texted back, his fingers trembling slightly as he hit send.

The excitement coursed through him, mingled with the fear of what their reunion would bring. Would it be awkward? Would the distance that had grown between them dissolve in the warmth of their shared history? Or would they stand as strangers, lost in the shadow of what once was?

With each passing moment, anticipation surged within him. The thought of seeing Adam’s face, hearing his voice, feeling the warmth of his presence was enough to fill the emptiness that had stretched endlessly since their separation. For the first time in months, Lucifer allowed himself to dream of possibilities.

He imagined Adam walking through the door, that same radiant smile lighting up his face, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he was genuinely happy. Lucifer could almost hear Adam's laughter ringing in his ears, the sound more beautiful than any music. Would he still feel like home? Would they fall back into their old rhythm, or would they have to learn to navigate this new, fragile bond?

Lucifer held his breath, heart racing as he stared at the screen, willing Adam to respond, to confirm that this was real. But even if he didn’t, the promise of summer felt like a distant shore he could finally swim toward, hope anchoring him against the tide of loneliness.

Just knowing that Adam was coming back made the darkness a little less suffocating. As he looked out the window, watching the clouds drift by, he dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.

A moment later, another text popped up, almost as if Adam knew how desperately he had needed to hear it.

I miss you too.

When summer finally arrived, Lucifer was a trembling mess of nerves and anticipation. His heart had been in a constant state of flutter, barely able to settle since Adam's return was confirmed. The days felt like a blur, yet every moment dragged painfully, the ache of waiting almost unbearable. Adam’s mama had welcomed him warmly, her kind smile a balm for his anxious soul. She had always treated him like family, never once turning him away—even when the world did. Her home was a sanctuary for Lucifer, a place of comfort and warmth, where everything felt familiar. But even the safety of her cozy house couldn’t quiet the storm brewing inside him as he waited for Adam.

Every second stretched painfully long until, finally, the sound of a taxi pulling up outside snapped him into action. His heart leaped into his throat, pounding erratically as he leapt to his feet, his insides twisting with a mix of excitement and dread. He followed Adam’s mama to the door, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. This was it. Adam was home.

When Adam stepped out of the taxi, Lucifer's breath caught in his throat. He was just as handsome—no, more beautiful—than Lucifer remembered. The months apart had changed him subtly, but the effect was striking. Adam’s skin had turned golden from the sun, giving him a radiant glow. He was leaner, his muscles more defined, and his green eyes looked even more vibrant, like the deep shade of a lush forest after rain. His hair was a wild mess, tousled by the wind, and Lucifer's fingers twitched with the familiar longing to run his hands through it, to feel the softness he imagined had only grown more irresistible.

"Mama!" Adam called, waving with a grin that nearly knocked the air from Lucifer’s lungs. His gaze shifted to Lucifer. “Lucifer! Hey! It’s been a long time!”

Lucifer. Not Luci. The nickname he used to say so fondly, like a secret they shared, was absent. Lucifer tried to mask the disappointment that threatened to spill across his face, but it was a bitter pill to swallow.

He forced a smile, shy and small. “Welcome home, Addie. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Adam replied softly, and for a moment, something flickered in his eyes—something warm, something familiar—when Lucifer called him by his nickname. But it was fleeting, slipping away just as quickly as it had appeared.

Lucifer’s heart hammered in his chest, each beat a reminder of the love that had only grown stronger in Adam’s absence. He wanted to run to him, to throw himself into Adam’s arms, to bury his face in his chest and hold on as if the world outside didn’t exist. His entire being ached for it, for that closeness that had once been so natural between them. But something stopped him—an invisible barrier that froze him in place, a coldness creeping into his bones.

"Addie~" a soft, sweet voice called from the taxi.

Lucifer’s world tilted. His stomach twisted violently, the air turning thick and unbreathable as he watched Adam’s grin widen. Adam twirled around with an eagerness Lucifer hadn’t seen in months, his hand reaching out to help a young woman out of the taxi.

She was stunning. Her thick, luxurious curls of deep red tumbled down to her waist, each strand catching the sunlight as if it were spun from copper. Her wide, expressive eyes were the colour of warm honey, framed by thick lashes, and her pale skin was dotted with freckles that seemed to dance across her cheeks like stars scattered on a canvas. She was perfect, the kind of perfect that made Lucifer’s chest tighten with dread.

"Mama," Adam beamed, leading the girl toward them with an unmistakable sense of pride. “This is Eve. My girlfriend.”

Girlfriend?

The word hit Lucifer like a punch to the gut, the world around him blurring as his vision went dark around the edges. His ears filled with the roar of thunder, drowning out every other sound.

Girlfriend? Adam has a girlfriend? How could this be? When had this happened? How could it have happened? He felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath him.

“Girlfriend?” Adam’s mama gasped, though her surprise quickly shifted to delight as she took in the sight of the girl before her. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled warmly. “My, my, you’re a beautiful young woman! Are you an Alpha?”

Eve smiled, and it was dazzling, her warmth almost suffocating. “Oh no, ma’am. I’m a Beta. I hope that doesn’t make you think any less of me.”

“Don’t be silly!” Mama exclaimed, taking Eve’s hands in hers with enthusiasm. “I could never think less of anyone! And please, call me Mama~”

Eve’s smile brightened, a picture of sweetness. “Oh, I’m so relieved, Mama.”

Adam stood beside her, grinning like he was on top of the world. He seemed so pleased that Eve was being welcomed, so happy that everything was falling into place. But when Eve glanced toward Lucifer, then back at Adam, something shifted in Adam’s expression. His grin faltered slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he cleared his throat.

“And this is Lucifer,” Adam introduced, his tone light but distant. “He’s my best friend. We grew up together—practically brothers.”

Brothers? The word cut through Lucifer like a blade, sharp and cold. His expression darkened, though he struggled to keep it in check. His teeth ached with the effort of holding back the sneer threatening to curl his lips.

“Lucifer? What a strange name,” Eve said with a laugh, her head tilting curiously. “You’re named after the devil.”

She laughed again, leaning into Adam’s side. “Oh Addie, look at us! We have Adam and Eve…and the devil, Lucifer.”

The sickness in Lucifer’s stomach deepened, burning like acid as Adam laughed, holding Eve’s hand.

“Oh, you’re right!” Adam said cheerfully. “I never noticed that!”

Eve leaned up to peck Adam on the cheek, her affection casual but intimate. “It’s almost like fate, Addie~”

Fate. The word was bitter on Lucifer’s tongue. This wasn’t fate. This was a nightmare.

His chest tightened, his stomach churning with a mix of jealousy and anger. His sharp blue eyes flared with resentment as he glared at Eve. She had wormed her way into Adam’s life, into his heart, and Lucifer knew right then—he would have to get rid of her. She was already too close, too embedded, like a poison that had seeped too deep into Adam’s veins.

But he would cut her out, Lucifer thought, a dark determination settling in his gut. He would remove her, like a tumour that threatened to destroy everything.

"It's lovely to meet you, Eve," Lucifer said, his voice dripping with charm as he flashed her the smile that had always worked in the past. He had disarmed Lilith, and he had beaten Lute. Eve would be no different.

But Eve barely glanced at him, her attention already back on Adam.

“You too," she said dismissively, her tone indifferent.

Lucifer ground his teeth, the rejection stinging more than he cared to admit. Something about Eve was different—dangerous. But he wouldn’t lose. He couldn’t. Adam was his, and no one—not even this beautiful, smiling Beta—was going to take him away.

Let the game begin.

Wooing Eve was ten times harder than Lucifer had ever anticipated. Every move he made, every charming smile, every calculated glance, seemed to bounce off her like water on stone. It was frustrating beyond belief. She wasn’t like the others—those who had fallen easily into his orbit, enchanted by his blonde hair, striking blue eyes, and porcelain skin. Lucifer had always known the effect he had on people. He was used to the stares, the longing glances, the whispers. He was the perfect Omega; the kind people couldn’t help but be drawn to.

But not Eve.

Whenever she sat with him, it felt like she was miles away. Her amber eyes would glaze over, her focus elsewhere, as if his words were little more than background noise to her. It drove Lucifer mad—how could she not be interested? How could she resist what everyone else found irresistible? She should at least be curious, but instead, she brushed him off at every turn. It wasn't just that Eve wasn’t drawn to him—she got in the way.

Every time Lucifer tried to spend a moment alone with Adam, Eve was there, a permanent fixture at his side, her hand curled possessively around Adam’s. She’d flash that sweet, innocent smile at Adam, and it took everything in Lucifer not to snarl. That smile made his blood boil. It was infuriating, the way she slipped between him and Adam, as if she belonged there. The jealousy gnawed at him, sharp and relentless, feeding the fire of his determination.

But Lucifer wasn’t one to give up easily. He had never lost before, and he wasn’t going to start now. No matter how hard Eve made it, he would win. He had to. Adam was his.

One afternoon, Lucifer found himself leaning against the side of the house, arms crossed over his chest, foot casually propped against the wall as he waited for his opportunity. He watched as Eve walked past, completely oblivious to his presence, her curls bouncing with each step. His eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a dangerous smirk. Fine. If she wanted to play hard, he could play dirty.

As Eve passed him, Lucifer slyly stuck his foot out, just enough to trip her. She stumbled, barely catching herself before hitting the ground, and when she straightened, her amber eyes were blazing with irritation. But she quickly masked it, brushing the dirt from her hands as though it was nothing.

"What’s your problem?" Lucifer asked, his voice low and sharp as he stared her down, his icy blue eyes glinting with challenge.

Eve raised an eyebrow, her expression carefully neutral as she dusted off her clothes. “Problem? What problem? I don’t have a problem with you.”

“Bullshit,” Lucifer snapped, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving hers. His frustration had been building for weeks, and now it poured out in cold, biting words. “You don’t like me. Don’t act like you do.”

For a moment, Eve simply stared at him, her lips curling into a slow, mocking grin. She tilted her head, her curls falling to the side as if she were amused by his sudden aggression. “What would give you that idea?” she asked, her voice saccharine sweet, dripping with false innocence.

Lucifer’s jaw clenched. Her nonchalance, her refusal to engage with him seriously, only fanned the flames of his anger. She wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t intimidated. It infuriated him, made him feel small in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Let’s not play games,” Lucifer said darkly, his voice barely above a whisper, but it was laced with venom. “You don’t want me around. You’re always in the way. Every time I try to be with Adam, you’re there, clinging to him like some—some parasite.”

Eve’s eyes sparkled with amusement, and she crossed her arms, mirroring his stance as she looked him over.

“I think you're overestimating your importance, Lucifer. Adam and I… we’re happy. You? You’re just part of his past. An afterthought.” Her grin widened slightly, her eyes glinting with satisfaction as she added, “Practically brothers, right?”

The words hit him like a slap, and Lucifer felt his chest tighten with a fresh wave of bitterness. Brothers. That word had been cutting at him since the day Adam had first said it, since the moment he was forced to watch Adam fall into the arms of someone else. He wasn’t just losing Adam—he was being pushed out of his life entirely. Reduced to a memory. A part of his past, something Eve could mock with a smile.

But Eve wasn’t done. She leaned in closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. “You should know by now, Lucifer… you’ve already lost. I’m not going anywhere.”

Lucifer’s heart twisted painfully, but he refused to let it show. He forced a cold smile, tilting his head as he met her gaze with defiance.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” His voice was icy, a challenge lingering in every word.

He watched as Eve straightened, unbothered by his threat, and walked away with an air of confidence that only deepened the ache inside him. Lucifer stood there, staring after her, the weight of her words settling heavily in his chest.

As much as he hated to admit it, there was a dark truth gnawing at the back of his mind: Eve had already claimed a place in Adam’s life. A place that had once been his. And no matter how hard he tried to hold on, Adam was slipping further and further away.

Lucifer's breath hitched, the sharp pang of heartbreak searing through him. For the first time, the thought crept in—what if he couldn’t win? What if Adam… was never his to begin with?

His hands clenched into fists as he leaned against the house, the once-sunny summer day feeling cold and distant. He would fight for Adam. He had to. But deep down, a small voice whispered in the quiet corners of his heart, asking a question he was too afraid to answer.

What if you’ve already lost?

Lucifer was done playing nice. He decided that if Eve wanted a challenge, he would give her one. He put on the mask of kindness, showering her with false compliments that, when examined closely, stung with a hidden blade. His voice was honeyed, but there was a sharpness to it, a glint in his eye that Eve couldn't quite ignore. At first, it worked—he could see the irritation flicker across her face whenever he made a snide remark cloaked in a sweet smile. The more it annoyed her, the more Lucifer pushed. He wanted to break through that facade of hers, force her to reveal the real reason she despised him.

One day, after a particularly icy exchange, Lucifer finally asked the question that had been burning at the back of his mind for months. “How did you know I had feelings for Adam?” His voice was calm, but his heart was racing, bracing itself for the answer he knew would hurt.

Eve didn’t hesitate. She shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “I can always tell when someone’s in love,” she replied, her amber eyes locking with his, a flicker of smugness in them. “It’s one of the reasons I can’t stand you.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, and he frowned, genuinely confused. “You hate me because I love him?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the hurt he was trying to conceal.

Eve smirked, shaking her head. “No,” she said coolly, “that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” Lucifer demanded, his patience wearing thin. The frustration had been building for so long, and he needed to know. He needed to understand why she despised him so much when he had done nothing but love the man she was now claiming as her own.

Eve’s smile turned cold, almost pitying, as she looked him over. “It’s because you’re an Omega, Lucifer. And you’re in love with another Omega. That’s... wrong.”

Lucifer’s heart lurched, and a fiery insult was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it, his jaw clenching.

“Why does that matter?” he snapped, his voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and outrage. “Love is love. It shouldn’t matter that we’re both Omegas.”

Eve rolled her eyes, as if his words were childish, foolish. “It’s unnatural,” she said with a condescending sigh. “Omegas are meant to be with Alphas. That’s the way it works.”

Lucifer’s skin prickled with disgust.

“You’re a Beta,” he shot back, his voice growing sharp with venom. “And by your logic, Betas shouldn’t be with Omegas either.”

A smug smile curled at the edge of Eve’s lips. “Betas and Omegas are more natural together than two Omegas.” Her voice dripped with superiority, and for the first time, Lucifer could see how deep her disdain for him ran. It wasn’t just about Adam. To her, he was fundamentally wrong, an aberration that didn’t fit into her world.

Lucifer’s retort died in his throat as something clicked.

A slow, dark realization crept over him, tightening around his heart like a vice. His eyes narrowed, the gears in his mind turning. Eve wasn’t just some random obstacle; she had a weakness, a belief system that was as fragile as it was twisted. And now Lucifer saw a way to exploit it.

A sly smile spread across his face, and he tilted his head, his voice soft and low, dripping with false innocence.

“Do you think you can fix me, then?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light.

Eve blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. She frowned slightly; her confusion evident.

“What do you mean?” she asked cautiously, her voice wary.

Lucifer stepped closer, his smirk deepening. He leaned in, his breath brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Surely a powerful and beautiful Beta like you could fix a delusional Omega like me.”

For a moment, Eve seemed stunned, her eyes widening in surprise. But then, realization dawned across her face like the slow burn of a flame. Her lips twisted into a smirk, mirroring his, and she stepped closer, her confidence returning in full force. She moved with a deliberate sway, her bust bouncing as she closed the gap between them, her amber eyes gleaming with a predatory glint.

She reached up, her fingers tracing along Lucifer’s cheek, sending a cold shudder down his spine. Her touch was too soft, too intimate, and Lucifer had to bite back the revulsion curling in his gut. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a brief, teasing kiss, whispering, “I can.”

Lucifer’s stomach churned, but he masked it with another sly smile, playing the part.

“I certainly hope so,” he purred, his voice low, though every word tasted like poison.

Eve chuckled, the sound light and confident, as if she had already won the game. But Lucifer knew better. As her fingers lingered on his skin, as her lips curled into that satisfied smirk, Lucifer’s mind raced. He could feel her slipping into his trap, falling for the bait he had laid out so carefully.

This was the opening he had been waiting for.

He would let her believe she had control, let her think she was the one calling the shots. But beneath the surface, Lucifer was already planning, already plotting how to turn this twisted game in his favour. Eve may think she could fix him, but in the end, it would be her undoing.

As Eve walked away, Lucifer’s smile dropped, his face hardening with cold resolve. He would win. No matter what it took. Adam belonged to him. Eve may have thought she had the upper hand, but this was only the beginning. Lucifer would strip away her confidence, her smug superiority, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.

And when that day came, Adam would finally see who had truly been by his side all along.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on Adam, the way his face lit up as he chatted with his parents, the easy smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Adam looked so happy, so effortlessly radiant, and it sent a dull ache straight to Lucifer’s chest. He bit down on his bottom lip hard, the pain grounding him. He wondered if Adam would ever forgive him for the things he hadn’t done yet, for the things he was planning. But what choice did he have? Adam was his. He couldn’t just let him slip away.

“Lucifer!” Adam’s voice broke through his swirling thoughts, pulling him back to reality. His heart leapt at the sound of his name on Adam’s lips. “What’re you doing all the way over there by yourself? Come here!”

Lucifer’s breath hitched, but he forced a smile to his face—this one real, soft, and full of affection. He quickly made his way over to stand beside Adam, the warmth of his presence wrapping around him like a blanket.

“Sorry,” Lucifer said, his voice quieter than he intended. “I was just thinking.”

Adam’s eyes sparkled with that playful glint that made Lucifer’s stomach flutter.

“About what?” Adam asked, a grin spreading across his face. “Anything about me?”

“Of course,” Lucifer replied with a chuckle, trying to keep his voice light even as his chest tightened with longing. His heart felt too big for his ribcage, like it was trying to claw its way out.

“All good things, I hope,” Adam teased, his grin widening.

Lucifer laughed, though it was softer this time, more vulnerable. His cheeks flushed pink. “They’re always good things.”

Adam smiled warmly at him, and for a moment, it was just the two of them—like it used to be. No Eve. No walls. No painful distance. But the moment shattered as quickly as it had formed when Eve’s voice cut through the air.

“So, how long have you two known each other?” she asked, her tone sweet but her eyes sharp and calculating. She sat there, looking at them like she was assessing some kind of threat, her presence an unspoken challenge.

Lucifer stiffened, but forced himself to relax, keeping his expression neutral. He couldn’t let her see how much she rattled him. Not yet. Not when it was still too soon to strike. He had to be smart about this.

He flashed her a polite smile, the kind he knew Adam would approve of, even though it tasted bitter on his tongue.

“Since we were kids,” he said smoothly. “We’ve practically grown up together.”

Eve nodded, her eyes flicking between him and Adam, her smile too wide, too perfect.

“That’s sweet,” she said, though there was a hint of something darker behind her words. “You must know each other really well, then.”

Lucifer could feel the weight of her stare, the challenge beneath her seemingly innocent questions. He wanted to snap back, to tell her exactly what he thought of her and this entire charade, but he swallowed his pride. He couldn’t afford to lose control, not now. Not when everything depended on him playing the long game.

So, he smiled. “Yes, very well,” he replied, keeping his voice gentle, even when every fibre of his being wanted to claw her apart. “We know everything about each other.”

Eve’s smile tightened, and Lucifer could see the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. Good. It was working. But then, she shifted her tactics, her questions growing more pointed, more personal.

“How come you’re still single, then?” Eve asked, her tone sweet as honey but with a barb hidden beneath it. “I mean, someone like you—a pretty Omega—I’d think you’d be snatched up by now.”

Lucifer’s chest tightened; the insult wrapped in fake curiosity stinging more than he wanted to admit. He forced himself to keep his smile steady, even though his jaw ached from clenching his teeth.

“It’s hard to find the right person,” he said lightly, though his eyes darkened as they flickered to Adam, hoping—praying—that Adam understood the weight behind those words. But Adam didn’t seem to notice. He just smiled, oblivious, as if nothing in the world had changed between them.

The second reason Lucifer tolerated Eve’s needling questions was standing right next to him: Adam. If he played nice, if he didn’t let Eve get under his skin, Adam would be happy. And that was enough. For now.

He answered every one of her prying questions with carefully chosen words, even as Eve’s eyes glinted with smug satisfaction. She thought she had the upper hand. She thought she was winning.

But Lucifer could see the cracks forming in her facade. He could see how desperately she wanted to unsettle him, to throw him off balance. And that gave him power. He just had to wait for the right moment to use it.

As Eve continued to poke and prod, Lucifer bore it all with a calm, disarming smile. Let her think she had control. Let her think she was winning this twisted game.

Because when the time came, he would be the one standing beside Adam. He’d make sure of it. No matter what it cost him.

Even if he had to break his own heart in the process.

Lucifer was playing the long game, and Eve—clever as she was—believed she was the one in control. It was almost too easy. Every day, she would find ways to pull him aside, away from Adam, her sharp amber eyes assessing him like a predator stalking its prey. Her questions were always the same, carefully crafted to sink deeper, to twist his love for Adam into something less then. Something normal as she kept calling it.

‘You both are friends. Brothers even. Not lovers.’ She repeatedly said. ‘You have to remember that.’

"So," she said one evening, her voice soft but insidious as they sat together in the corner of the garden.

“How long have you been in love with him?" Her eyes glinted, daring him to deny it, but Lucifer didn’t flinch.

"For as long as I can remember," he replied smoothly, letting a small, almost wistful smile curl on his lips. He played the part of someone vulnerable, someone lost in their own foolish desires. He had to give her what she wanted—a sense of control over him.

"And how’s that working out for you?" she purred, leaning in closer, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his arm. "I mean, he’s with me now. You’re just... lingering on the sidelines."

The venom in her words dripped so effortlessly, like a snake coiling around his chest, but Lucifer remained unfazed.

"It’s complicated," Lucifer said, casting his gaze downward, as if shame was creeping in. "I guess I’ve been... holding on to something that isn’t there anymore."

Eve’s smirk widened at that. She thought she was winning. She thought her words were breaking him down, reshaping him into someone weaker.

“You poor thing," she whispered, her fingers curling under his chin to force him to meet her gaze. "If you’d just let go, if you’d stop clinging to him, you’d see how much better things could be."

Lucifer smiled, the perfect mix of regret and submission.

“Maybe you’re right." He let his voice crack just enough, feeding her the illusion that she was changing him, fixing him. "Maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time."

Eve beamed, her victory gleaming in her eyes.

"Of course I’m right," she said, her tone sickeningly sweet. "I can help you, Lucifer. I am helping you. You’re already starting to see things differently, aren’t you?"

Lucifer nodded slowly, allowing her to bask in the belief that she was the one with the power. He pulled away from Adam in small, deliberate ways. When Adam called his name, Lucifer hesitated before answering. He started sitting farther away, no longer draping himself over Adam’s shoulder or sharing their little inside jokes. Adam noticed, of course, his green eyes growing more distant, clouded with confusion and hurt.

But Lucifer didn’t notice Adam’s sadness—not fully. He was too wrapped up in playing his part, in pretending to succumb to Eve’s manipulations, even as his heart screamed every time he caught a glimpse of Adam’s wounded expressions. It was necessary. For now.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from watching Adam when no one was looking. When Adam laughed or smiled at something, Lucifer would find his eyes drifting toward him, the familiar ache of longing bubbling to the surface. He would daydream, imagining what it would be like if Adam were his again—if they could go back to how things were. But those were dangerous thoughts, ones he had to push down if he was going to keep up the charade.

One afternoon, Eve caught him staring a little too long. She snapped her fingers in front of his face, her eyes narrowing.

“Still thinking about him?" she asked, her voice biting.

Lucifer forced a laugh, shaking his head. "Old habits," he lied, letting his smile falter just enough for her to believe he was struggling.

"Come with me," Eve suddenly demanded, grabbing him by the arm.

She dragged him behind a cluster of trees, hidden from view. Lucifer’s heart sank, already knowing what was coming.

Eve pulled him close, her arms snaking around his neck. She leaned in, her breath warm against his skin as she whispered, "Kiss me. The more you kiss me, the more you’ll forget about him. You’ll forget those silly emotions, those misplaced feelings."

Lucifer bit back a snort of derision, the urge to push her away almost overwhelming. But he couldn’t—not yet. He had to play his part, had to let her believe she was breaking him down.

"Okay," he whispered, his voice subdued.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, forcing himself to suppress the disgust curling in his stomach as he leaned in. His lips met hers, and he shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out the revulsion that crawled through his skin. It was mechanical, robotic. There was no feeling, no passion. Only duty.

When it was over, Lucifer turned away, his chest heaving. He wiped his mouth roughly with the back of his hand, the taste of her kiss lingering like poison on his lips. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his disgust.

Eve, however, looked pleased, her smirk smug as she tilted her head to watch him.

“See? It’s already working," she cooed, stepping closer and brushing a finger down his arm. "You’re forgetting, aren’t you? You’ll be normal soon.”

Lucifer smiled weakly, letting her believe it. "Yeah," he said, though the word tasted like ash in his mouth. "I’m starting to forget."

And so, the twisted game continued. Eve dragged him away in secret more often, pulling him into corners and behind doors where she could kiss him, press herself against him, and whisper in his ear that he was healing, that she was helping him forget Adam.

But Lucifer never forgot. Not for a second. Even as his lips met hers, even as he played his part with perfection, his heart was always elsewhere. It was with Adam—always Adam.

And one day, when the time was right, Lucifer would make sure it stayed that way. He just had to be patient. He had to let Eve believe she was winning until the moment he was ready to take everything back.

Including Adam.

“Now, the most important lesson.” Eve said softly, pulling him close. She trailed a hand down his back, lightly stroking his plump backside.

Lucifer bit back a grimace. He wanted to shove her away and run away, telling her to never touch him again.

“Important lesson?” He asked cutely. “What would that be?”

Eve cupped his face and pushed her lips to his. Lucifer didn’t kiss back this time and waited for it to be over.

She then whispered against his lips. “You often think of him when you touch yourself don’t you?”

Eyes widening in surprise, Lucifers face darkened. “What? How could you ask me-“

“I told you. It’s the most important lesson.” She clicked her tongue at him. “If you keep thinking of him during those moment, if he’s the one you fantasy about during your heat, you’ll never be normal.”

Lucifer bristled at those words. Normal. Adam would ever be the only person on his mind when he touches himself. When he goes into what it will only be Adam he thinks off. It made him furious that Eve was even suggesting trying and not let Adam slip into his mind.

“Tomorrow night, let me give you something more…” Eve whispered seductively. “Something more exotic and exciting. It’ll help you become fully normal.”

Lucifer inhaled sharply. He wanted to scream and smack her. But he didn’t. He smiled, his eyes lightening up with darkness.

“During the bonfire ritual?” He cooed with a purr. “Looking forward to it.”

The night of the bonfire ritual arrived, the air thick with the scent of burning wood and the soft hum of voices gathering in the distance. For the first time in months, Lucifer's stomach wasn’t knotted in dread or frustration. Instead, it fluttered with butterflies and bumblebees, a warm, almost unbearable excitement that spread through his chest. He blushed at the thought—this would be the first time they’d go to the bonfire together, side by side like they always used to. Adam won’t even be thinking about Eve by the end of the night, he told himself.

And maybe…maybe he’ll forgive me for everything. He has to. Right?

Lucifer and Adam approached the field, the flickering glow of the bonfire illuminating the path ahead. Old Betty and Berry, the elders who oversaw the ceremony, stood at the entry, their approving eyes landing on the two omegas walking together.

Old Betty chuckled, her wrinkled face lighting up as she teased, “Well, it’s about time. Both of you finally made it on time this year.”

Lucifer smiled shyly, casting a glance at Adam. "Do you remember how excited we were the first time we came here? As teenagers?"

His voice was soft, almost wistful, as the memories of their younger selves flooded back. He could still picture it—two wide-eyed boys, thrilled to be part of the sacred tradition, nervous but giddy with anticipation.

Adam’s face brightened, a soft blush colouring his cheeks as he nodded.

"I do remember," he said with a grin. "We thought we were so grown-up, wearing our carnations and holding apples like we had any idea what we were doing."

Lucifer’s heart swelled at the sight of Adam’s smile. For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them again, like nothing had changed. Eve’s disapproving pout snapped him back to reality.

"Can I have red carnations and apples too?" she asked, her tone edging on petulant. It was clear she didn’t understand the significance, didn’t care about it the way they did. She folded her arms, her eyes darting between them.

Old Berry patted her on the shoulder, his weathered hand comforting yet firm. "We don’t pick our crowns, my dear. The gods decide what is given to us."

“Fine,” she muttered, though her displeasure was obvious. Eve’s eyes rolled, but she let out a resigned sigh.

She stepped forward as the elders began weaving the ceremonial crowns into their hair. Lucifer watched with quiet satisfaction as Eve was given poppies and grapes. Not carnations. Not apples.

“They match you,” Adam said, his green eyes warm as he beamed at her, squeezing her hand.

Eve practically glowed under his praise; her smile wide as she leaned into him. Lucifer felt his chest tighten, the bile rising as he watched her fingers intertwine with Adam’s.

But he kept his face calm, his heart steeling itself for what was to come. Tonight wasn’t about the little victories. Tonight was the night he would win Adam back. Eve’s smile, her presence, would be forgotten by the time the stars blinked out of the sky. He had to believe that.

As they moved deeper into the field, surrounded by the crackling warmth of the fire, the sky stretched above them, dark and endless. The village was gathered, their faces glowing in the firelight, crowns of flowers and fruit dotting their heads. The ritual was about to begin, and Lucifer could feel the pulse of it, the way the air shimmered with magic, with the unspoken promises of the gods.

He glanced at Adam again, his heart hammering. By the end of this night, he thought, it’ll just be us again. Like it’s always been.

The fire roared higher, and the chanting began. Each couple was to walk through the flames—a symbolic passage into the next phase of their lives. A chance to solidify bonds or break them entirely.

Lucifer’s eyes darted to Eve. She stood beside Adam, her face serene, confident. But there was something else there too, something that had been growing in her eyes over the past few weeks. A knowing. She wasn’t a fool, despite how she presented herself. She knew Lucifer had been playing her game, and in some twisted way, she liked it. She believed she had broken him, that she had stolen Adam from him completely. But Lucifer had one last move left to play.

As the night deepened and the first few pairs crossed the bonfire’s edge, Lucifer felt the weight of what he was about to do settle into his bones. He was taking a risk—a massive one. But he had no choice.

But Adam will forgive him. He always forgives him. They are only going through a rough patch right now.

He waited until Eve and Adam were standing close to the fire, ready to cross together. He stepped up beside them, his voice soft but clear.

“Adam,” he said, his heart in his throat. “Can I walk with you? One last time?”

Eve's eyes flashed with irritation, her grip tightening on Adam’s hand. "He’s with me now, Lucifer," she said sharply.

But Adam hesitated, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable.

“We haven’t really seen each other all year,” Adam murmured, glancing between them.

Lucifer swallowed, feeling the eyes of the entire village on them. He had to act now, before Eve could solidify her grip any further.

He took a step closer, his voice barely a whisper. "Please, Adam. Just this one time."

Adam looked torn, and Lucifer’s heart raced, desperation clawing at his chest. Then, slowly, Adam nodded. Eve’s face hardened, her grip slackening as Adam stepped toward Lucifer.

As they walked toward the fire together, side by side, the world seemed to still. Lucifer’s pulse roared in his ears, the heat of the flames licking at his skin. Adam glanced at him, a soft smile on his lips, and for the first time in months, it felt like things might be okay again.

But Lucifer knew this was only the beginning. What came next would determine everything. And he wasn’t about to let Eve win. Not now. Not ever.

As they approached the fire, the crackling flames illuminated the darkness, casting long shadows over the field. The heat licked at Lucifer’s skin, but his mind was elsewhere, focused solely on Adam beside him. His heart pounded in his chest, a painful thud that echoed in his ears. He swallowed hard, glancing shyly at Adam from the corner of his eye. For a moment, it was just the two of them, like it used to be.

"Adam..." Lucifer's voice came out soft, almost timid. He felt small next to him, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been in years. "These past months...they’ve been really hard for me."

Adam winced, his footsteps slowing as they moved further from the bonfire’s edge. He turned to face Lucifer fully, his expression softening, though there was something distant in his eyes. “They’ve been hard for me too,” he murmured, his voice sincere but laced with an underlying tension that Lucifer couldn’t quite place.

Lucifer’s heart clenched at those words, a flicker of hope igniting inside him.

"Is that true?" he asked, his voice trembling. He searched Adam’s face, desperate for reassurance. "If it was so hard for you, then why did you ignore me? Why didn’t you respond at all?"

The words spilled out of him before he could stop them, his emotions unravelling, raw and exposed. He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt the first tear roll down his cheek, hot and bitter. His breath hitched, and he choked back a sob, trying to keep it together, but the weight of everything—months of silence, of distance, of heartache—was crashing down on him all at once.

Adam’s eyes widened in concern, and without hesitation, he reached out, taking both of Lucifer’s hands in his own. His grip was firm but gentle, and Lucifer felt the familiar warmth of Adam’s touch, the way his fingers curled around his. It was a comfort he hadn’t realized he’d been starved for, and it only made the tears come harder.

"Hey, hey..." Adam whispered, his voice soft and soothing. His familiar pheromones rolled over Lucifer like a blanket, calming yet painful in their familiarity. "Don’t cry, Luci. You know I hate seeing you cry."

The sound of his old nickname, the one only Adam ever used, made Lucifer’s heart flutter painfully in his chest. He wanted to believe that things hadn’t changed, that they were still the same, but the presence of Eve, the cold distance between them, was a constant reminder that everything was different now.

"It’s been so hard without you," Lucifer sobbed, his voice breaking. His hands trembled in Adam’s grasp, his fingers tightening as if he was afraid that if he let go, Adam would slip away from him again.

"Every day... it’s been so difficult. I’ve been so lonely. I tried to reach you, Adam, but you never..." His words trailed off, his throat closing as more tears spilled over.

Adam’s face twisted in regret, his brow furrowing as he squeezed Lucifer’s hands tighter. “I know, I know... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to.” His voice was thick with emotion, and for a moment, Lucifer saw the Adam he had always known—the boy who would stay up late with him, who would listen to all his fears, who made him feel like the world was never too big as long as they were together.

"Then why?" Lucifer’s voice was a broken whisper, pleading, desperate for an answer that could make sense of the ache in his chest. "Why did you shut me out?"

Adam exhaled shakily, looking away for a moment, his gaze falling to the fire that roared behind them.

“It wasn’t easy for me either. Things just got... complicated.” He paused, biting his lip as if searching for the right words. “Eve... she’s different. Everything with her happened so fast, and I didn’t know how to balance it all. I didn’t know how to talk to you.”

The name alone felt like a stab to Lucifer’s heart. Eve. Always Eve. His breath hitched, and he tried to pull his hands back, but Adam held onto him, unwilling to let him go.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Luci," Adam said again, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “You’re my best friend. You’ll always be my best friend. But things... things aren’t the same anymore.”

Lucifer felt like he was drowning, his vision blurred with tears as Adam’s words echoed in his head. Best friend. That was all he was to Adam now. Just a memory of something that used to be. He had hoped, so desperately, that this night would change everything, that Adam would look at him the way he used to. But now... all that hope was slipping away like sand through his fingers.

Adam admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, that it was agonizing to hold back, to not respond the way his heart screamed at him to. Every fibre of his being ached to reach out, to reassure Lucifer, but he knew it would unravel everything they'd worked for, make it all pointless. His chest tightened as he forced himself to stay composed, even as a part of him yearned to erase the growing distance between them.

Lucifer sniffed, his eyes wet and clouded with hurt. "It’s not fair," he murmured, his voice cracking, the vulnerability in his words cutting through the silence like a knife.

Adam nodded slowly, his heart sinking.

"It’s not fair," he agreed, his voice thick with emotion. "But we need this space, Luc. We need to grow on our own, to figure out who we are without... without leaning on each other so much. What happens when I mate? Or when you do? What then?"

He chuckled softly, though there was no humour in it, just a hollow attempt to mask the pain in his chest. The thought of them drifting even further apart, finding comfort in someone else's arms, twisted inside him like a cruel joke.

Lucifer, however, frowned deeply, his expression hardening as if trying to shield himself from the reality of Adam’s words. "I'd always put you first," he muttered, his voice resolute, though it trembled at the edges. "You know that."

And that—that—was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? Adam sighed, his heart aching at the devotion in Lucifer’s voice.

"That’s the problem," he whispered, the words heavy with sadness. "You shouldn’t be. You should be thinking about finding your own happiness, about a nice alpha or beta who makes you feel whole, who... who can give you the kind of life you deserve."

Adam paused, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. "We’re getting older, Luc. We’re both nearing our bearing stages. We can’t keep doing this forever." His voice faltered, barely able to hold itself together as he stared at the ground, unable to meet Lucifer’s gaze, knowing the words were shattering his heart.

Lucifer’s breath hitched, and when Adam finally glanced up, he was met with blood-rimmed eyes, full of unshed tears.

"Is that where Eve comes in?" Lucifer asked, his voice barely audible, the question hanging in the air like a raw wound.

Adam’s face flushed, his cheeks burning under the weight of Lucifer’s gaze. He fumbled for words, trying to explain, to make Lucifer understand without causing more pain.

"I... I really like her," he admitted, his voice soft but earnest. "She’s... different, Luc. She’s not like anyone I’ve met before."

He swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he continued, each word feeling like a betrayal. "Eve... she was there for me. When everything felt like it was falling apart, she listened. She didn’t just hear me, she listened to every word, every fear, and she... she helped me when I needed it most."

Lucifer remained silent, though Adam could see the way his hands clenched into fists, how each word seemed to cut deeper than the last. It felt like he was tearing something irreplaceable between them with every sentence, but he had no choice. They couldn’t keep living in the same limbo, tangled in each other’s lives while their futures slipped away.

Lucifer wanted to ask. He wanted to know if Adam loved her, if Eve had already taken the place in Adam’s heart that he had so desperately wanted to fill himself. But he couldn’t. The question lodged in his throat, too painful to voice, because what if Adam said yes? What if he was already gone? Could Lucifer bear to hear the truth? Could he survive the answer that would break him entirely?

Adam paused, inhaling deeply as if trying to steady himself for what he was about to say. His lips curled into a soft grin, the kind that was shy and boyish, with a light in his eyes that made him look like he was confessing a secret he’d been holding close for far too long.

“I’m thinking of inviting her to my heat,” he said, his voice almost tentative, as if testing how the words sounded aloud.

“You know, see if she'd want to... mate with me tonight." He chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair, clearly anxious. "I’ve never had much luck with bonfire nights. They’re supposed to help find a partner, but... well, you know."

Lucifer stiffened at the words, his body going rigid as though struck by an invisible force. His stomach twisted painfully, and a cold, possessive fury began to churn deep within him.

Absolutely not.

The thought blazed through him like wildfire. The idea of someone else, of her, touching Adam in that way, claiming him, was unthinkable. He could feel the dark, possessive side of himself clawing at the surface, desperate to break free, to stop this before it ever happened.

His pussy grows hot at the thought of Adam being in heat. It was something Lucifer tried not to think about as it always set his body off and he’s beginning to drip if he contained. But the thought of anyone but himself with Adam during his heat made him angry.

Lucifer wanted to be the one tangled up with Adam. Taking care of him, pleasuring Adam. Lucifers sure he could do a better job than Eve. Adam would come to love his fingers, tongue and of course, his omega pussy.

He’s sure Adam will love to ride his pussy! Lucifer couldn’t wait to ride Adam’s! To feel the heat pressed against his aching cunt, to feel their body fluids mingle! Lucifer fantasied about it often.

Lucifer kept his face calm, even offering a tight smile as he swallowed down the surge of jealousy. His blue eyes grew hooded and dark, the tempest brewing within hidden behind a veneer of composure. He bore the sharpness of his grin, forcing it into something that resembled support, though every word was a lie.

“Eve’s a nice girl,” Lucifer said smoothly, his voice a velvet caress, though his heart twisted with the falsehood of it. “She’s perfect for you.”

Perfect. The word tasted bitter on his tongue. He didn’t believe it, not for a second. Nobody—nobody—was perfect for Adam but himself. He’d known Adam his entire life, been there through every high and every low. Eve was nothing more than an outsider, a fleeting distraction that didn’t deserve to be anywhere near Adam, let alone during his heat.

But Lucifer couldn’t say that. He couldn’t risk Adam knowing what he was truly feeling, so he kept his mask firmly in place. He added with false admiration, “She’s very beautiful. I’ve never seen hair that red before.”

Adam’s face lit up at the compliment, his eyes brightening as if Lucifer’s approval was all he had been waiting for.

“She is, isn’t she?” he beamed. “She’s the most stunning beta I’ve ever seen.”

Lucifer’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he forced himself to smile, nodding along, though the words grated against him like shards of glass. He swallowed hard, trying to keep the jealousy at bay, trying to be what Adam needed in that moment. But inside, the possessiveness roared louder, drowning out every rational thought.

Adam hesitated then, his expression softening as he glanced over at Lucifer, his gaze searching, uncertain.

“I was worried you wouldn’t approve,” he admitted, his voice almost shy. “I thought... I thought you wouldn’t like her.”

Lucifer nearly laughed at how well Adam knew him, but he held it back, not wanting to give himself away. Of course, Adam would sense something was off—how could he not? Lucifer’s feelings for him were impossible to hide, but he’d spent years burying them, pretending they weren’t there, pretending he didn’t want Adam more than anything.

Lucifer’s smile softened, and this time there was real warmth in his voice, though it was tinged with sadness. “I just want you to be happy,” he murmured, his heart aching with the truth of it. And it was the truth. As much as it hurt, as much as the idea of Adam with someone else gutted him, Lucifer wanted Adam’s happiness more than anything.

Adam’s face broke into a radiant smile, his whole being lighting up with joy at Lucifer’s words. He closed the distance between them, pulling Lucifer into a tight embrace.

Lucifer couldn’t help the way his body reacted, instinctively pressing into the warmth of Adam’s hold, his arms wrapping around him like it was the only place he was meant to be. A soft purr escaped his chest, the sound vibrating between them as he nuzzled into the crook of Adam’s neck, inhaling his scent deeply, trying to commit it to memory as if he were afraid it might fade.

“I really did miss you,” Adam whispered, his breath warm against Lucifer’s ear, and Lucifer felt his heart melt, the walls he’d carefully built around himself crumbling in an instant.

“I missed you so much too,” Lucifer replied, his voice low, trembling with the weight of emotion he’d been holding back for so long. He didn’t want to let go, didn’t want this moment to end, but he knew it had to.

Adam pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Lucifer’s gaze, his eyes soft and sincere.

“I’ll text more this time,” he promised with a smile, his voice full of warmth and affection.

Lucifer blushed, the pink flush spreading across his cheeks as he tried to play it cool.

“You better,” he teased, though the words were laced with vulnerability. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Adam laughed, the sound like a balm to Lucifer’s aching heart.

“Of course you will!” he said with a grin, his eyes sparkling with the easy affection that always seemed to linger between them.

And for a brief, stolen moment, it was just the two of them again—wrapped in each other’s warmth, their hearts beating in sync. But the reality of their growing distance loomed ever closer, and Lucifer couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could pretend everything was fine when, deep down, it was anything but.

It was time.

It was time to put his plan into action. It was now or never.

~#~

The bonfire crackled and spat as the night air filled with the sharp scent of burning wood. The flames danced higher, casting an eerie glow of purple and blue, their colours swirling together like the remnants of a bruised sky. Around the fire, couples swayed in synchrony, their soft touches and delicate kisses becoming a part of the ancient mating ritual, their connection to one another as palpable as the heat of the flames.

Lucifer stood at the edge of it all, his gaze cold, detached, as if the warmth of the fire and the love around it couldn't quite reach him. Yet, with a feigned bashfulness, he extended his hand toward Eve, luring her effortlessly away from the crowd. She followed him eagerly, a triumphant glint in her eyes, her lips curling into a smirk that hinted at the satisfaction of conquest. To her, it must have felt like victory, like she had won something unspoken—but Lucifer knew better.

Behind a cluster of trees, far enough from the prying eyes of the others, Eve pressed herself against him, her breath heavy with anticipation. She thought she had control, that she had him ensnared.

Her smirk deepened as she whispered, "Are you ready to be fixed, Lucifer?"

Her fingers trailed delicately over his flushed cheeks, tracing lines that felt more like chains to him.

"After this," she murmured, her voice dripping with sweet poison, "You’ll never think of another Omega like that again. I’ll make sure of it."

Lucifer swallowed the bile rising in his throat and let himself lean into her touch, feigning compliance. He purred under her fingertips, though the sound was hollow, and curled his lips into what passed as a smile, suppressing the grimace that threatened to surface. He allowed her to think she had power, that this moment was hers to control. After all, it was what she wanted—what they all wanted. The illusion of dominance. Betas, Alphas, they were all the same, so easy to deceive, so eager to believe in a reality they could shape to their desires.

Eve leaned in closer, her lips brushing just shy of his, her breath hot against his skin. Lucifer stiffened, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. For a moment, time slowed, and he kissed her—quickly, reluctantly. Her kiss felt wrong, out of place, like pieces of a puzzle that would never fit no matter how hard you forced them together. But Lucifer pushed aside the discomfort, knowing that soon, too soon, this charade would be over. Her touch would no longer linger on his skin, her scent would no longer cling to his thoughts.

The night spun around him in a blur of unwanted touches and whispered promises that tasted like lies. His head felt light, as if the air had been sucked from his lungs, leaving him disoriented. It was all happening too fast, too messy. The world swayed, and then—

"What are you doing?!" The sharp voice sliced through the night, jagged and filled with shock.

Lucifer flinched, his body pulling back instinctively as if the sound itself had slapped him. The two of them separated, the sudden intrusion breaking the fragile illusion of control that had encased them.

Lucifer’s heart pounded in his chest, his pulse quickening as reality came crashing back. Eve’s eyes widened in surprise, her mouth falling open as if the words were stuck in her throat. She hadn't anticipated this, hadn’t expected the night to unravel so quickly.

The voice came again, louder, angrier, cutting through the thick night air like a blade. "I said, what are you doing?"

Lucifer stood frozen, his thoughts a tangled web of confusion and frustration. But in that moment, as Eve’s grip on him loosened and her self-assured smirk began to falter, a strange sense of relief washed over him. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go, but maybe—just maybe—it was exactly what he needed.

The night held its breath, waiting for what would happen next.

Eve recoiled from Lucifer as if his touch had scalded her skin, her eyes wide, flushed with panic. For a fleeting second, Lucifer resisted the urge to glare at her, instead shifting his gaze to Adam, who had appeared out of nowhere, his face a mixture of shock and hurt. Lucifer felt a flicker of amusement tug at his lips—he could almost taste the delicious chaos unfolding before him.

Eve stammered, scrambling to string words together. "Adam, it’s not—it’s not what it looks like. I was just—"

"Helping him?" Adam cut her off sharply, his voice laced with bitterness. His eyes burned with betrayal as he pointed toward Lucifer. "Helping him how, Eve? By kissing my best friend?"

The accusation hung in the air like a death knell, and the attention of the entire gathering was drawn toward them. Alphas, Betas, and Omegas alike turned their curious, judgmental gazes toward the confrontation. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind rustling through leaves, their eyes filled with disbelief and condemnation.

Lucifer could barely suppress the gleeful tremor that ran through his body. Eve’s face flushed a deeper crimson, embarrassment seeping into her every movement as she shook her head frantically, her words tumbling over each other in a desperate attempt to explain. "No, Adam, please, it’s not what it seems! I wasn’t—"

But Adam cut her off again, his voice cracking with pain. "How could you do this to me? I thought—"

His voice wavered, then firmed with the weight of his wounded pride. "I thought you liked me, Eve. I thought we had something real."

"I do like you!" Eve cried, her voice rising with a sense of desperation. "I care about you, Adam! I want to be with you! I want to—"

Adam’s hand ripped itself from her pleading grasp, his green eyes narrowing into slits of fury.

"You call this liking me?" He spat, his voice trembling. "How can you say that when you’re so willing to kiss someone else? To kiss him?"

His eyes flicked briefly to Lucifer, disgust tightening his features before returning to Eve. "I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, Eve. I was ready to mate with you. But now... how could I ever trust you?"

Eve lunged toward him, grabbing his hands again, her eyes wide and wild with panic. "Adam, no! I want to mate with you, I want to be with you! Please, believe me, it wasn’t like that—"

But Adam tore himself away from her again, his heart visibly hardening against her pleas. "You’re a liar, Eve," he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice barely above a whisper but packed with venom.

Eve’s gasp was sharp, wounded. "How dare you call me a liar?" she shot back, her voice breaking with insult.

Adam’s eyes flared with disbelief. "How dare I?!" His voice rose with incredulous rage. "I just saw you making out with Lucifer! You were all over him!"

"I wasn’t!" Eve’s voice cracked, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "I was trying to fix him, Adam! He needs help—"

"Fix him?" Adam interrupted, his voice thick with sarcasm and disbelief. "Fix him with your mouth? With your tongue?"

The words were cruel, each one hitting Eve like a slap. Her tears spilled over, her face crumbling as she shook her head in desperation.

"You don’t understand!" she pleaded, her voice breaking as her hands trembled.

Adam’s laugh was bitter, hollow. "You’re right. I don’t understand. I don’t understand how I didn’t see you for what you really are. How could I have been so blind?"

His voice dropped, thick with sorrow. "How could you cheat on me, Eve? With him? My best friend?"

Eve choked on her sobs, shaking her head furiously. "I wasn’t cheating, Adam! I swear, I was just trying to help him. All those times—"

"All those times?" Adam’s voice turned icy, each word colder than the last. "How many times have you gone behind my back, Eve?"

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She was trapped, her silence speaking louder than any words could. Adam’s face twisted with disbelief, and he shook his head as if trying to shake away the reality of it all.

"I thought you were different," he whispered, his voice barely audible, filled with the weight of a shattered heart.

"I am different!" Eve cried, her hands reaching for him, but he stepped back, out of reach.

"No," Adam said firmly, his eyes now void of any warmth. "You’re not. I want to break up."

Eve’s world seemed to collapse in that moment. She lunged toward him; her voice frantic, desperate. "No, Adam, please! Don’t do this! I love you, I—"

But Adam shook his head, his voice breaking as he said, "There’s no way I can be with someone like you. Someone who’d cheat on me like this."

The words struck her like a blow, and for a moment, Eve could only gape at him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. Her eyes darted to Lucifer, then back to Adam, but it was too late. She could feel the weight of the stares pressing down on her, the judgment of every Alpha, Beta, and Omega in the circle.

The whispers grew louder, venomous. The looks of disapproval stung like lashes across her skin. Her heart pounded in her chest as the murmurs filled her ears, their voices dripping with disdain. She could feel their hatred, their rejection, and it twisted inside her, until finally, she snapped.

"Fine!" she screamed, her voice shrill and ragged. "I don’t need you, Adam! You were a terrible boyfriend anyway!"

Her voice cracked with anger and humiliation. "No Alpha or Beta will ever want someone like you! You’ll be alone forever, and even if someone does take pity on you, they’ll cheat on you behind your back, just like I did!"

Adam flinched at the words, as if each one had struck him like a physical blow. He closed his eyes, his face crumpling with the effort to hold back his tears.

From the crowd, another Omega stepped forward, their voice firm and steady. "Eve, it’s time for you to leave."

Eve’s eyes flashed with defiance. "I have a right to be here! This is my bonfire too!"

But the crowd was against her now. More voices joined the chorus, telling her to leave, their faces hard with disapproval. She stood there for a moment, trembling with rage, before finally, with a frustrated scream, she stormed away.

As she left, she ripped the poppy and grape crown from her head and threw it to the ground, stomping on it with a snarl.

"This was a stupid tradition anyway!" she yelled, her voice shrill and bitter as it echoed into the night.

The Omega who had spoken first bent down, picking up the discarded crown with a look of disgust. They threw it away, brushing their hands off as if they’d touched something filthy.

"Good riddance," they muttered, shaking their head as the bonfire crackled on, its flames dancing higher into the night.

Lucifer watched with wide, blue eyes as the scene unfolded in front of him. His chest filled with a warmth that spread through his veins—a sick pleasure at seeing his plan come together so perfectly. Eve was gone. Poisonous, deceitful Eve was no longer a threat. She was out of the picture, and more importantly, no longer Adam's girlfriend. Lucifer's heart raced, and he felt a twisted sense of relief wash over him. Now, everything could return to the way it was supposed to be. Him and Adam, just like before.

With eager steps, Lucifer moved toward Adam, already picturing the moment they would finally be together again. His lips parted to speak, to say the words he had longed to say for so long—It’s just us now, Adam. It’s always been just us. Let’s go back to how it was before.

But the second his eyes met Adam’s, everything froze.

Adam’s stare was cold—so cold it burned. His green eyes, usually so full of life and light, were deadened by anger and something worse—disappointment. The sight sent a chill down Lucifer’s spine, turning the warmth he’d felt into icy dread. His steps faltered, and the words died on his tongue as the colour drained from his face. He tried to move, tried to speak, but Adam shook his head, his expression twisting with disgust.

"Adam, wait—" Lucifer’s voice cracked as he reached out for him, panic rising in his chest, but before he could say another word, Adam spun on his heel, stomping away from him. The distance between them grew like a chasm, and Lucifer, desperate, ran after him.

"Adam!" Lucifer shouted, his voice frantic as he grabbed Adam’s arm, trying to pull him back. "Please, just—"

But before he could finish, Adam’s fist collided with his face.

The punch came out of nowhere, sending Lucifer crashing to the ground. He hit the earth hard, the pain radiating from his cheek as he landed painfully on his back. For a moment, everything spun—his vision blurred, his body trembling as he touched his bruised face, dazed and confused.

Adam had hit him. Adam had punched him.

Lucifer looked up, blinking furiously as he tried to understand. Adam, his Adam, was glaring down at him with fury in his eyes.

"How could you?!" Adam’s voice was raw with rage, and Lucifer’s heart shattered at the sound. Tears gathered in Adam’s green eyes, turning them glassy as he trembled with the weight of his fury. "How could you do that to me? I thought you were my friend! My best friend!"

Lucifer opened his mouth to explain, to defend himself, but Adam cut him off with a sharp, venomous command. "Shut the fuck up!"

The words pierced Lucifer like a blade, each syllable cutting deeper than the last. Adam’s voice shook with years of pent-up betrayal, the hurt in his voice making Lucifer’s chest tighten.

"I’m so sick of your excuses," Adam spat, his voice trembling. "You think I’m stupid, don’t you? You think I haven’t noticed all the things you’ve done to me over the years? I’ve tried everything to be a good friend to you, Lucifer, but clearly, you’ve thought of me as a fool all this time!"

Lucifer shook his head, his voice breaking as he whispered, "No, Adam, I—"

"Don’t lie to me!" Adam’s scream cut through the night like a whip, making Lucifer flinch. "You’ve done it before! Time and time again, you’ve pulled this shit, and I let it slide because you were my best friend! But I see you now, Lucifer! I see you for who you really are!"

Lucifer's heart pounded in terror as Adam continued, his voice thick with years of buried resentment.

"First with Lilith!" Adam’s voice broke, and Lucifer felt his stomach drop as the mention of her name echoed through the crowd. He watched in horror as Lilith herself emerged from the gathering of onlookers, her icy-blue eyes widening in surprise as she saw the confrontation unfold before her.

"I told you how much I liked her," Adam continued, his voice trembling with emotion. "I told you she was the smartest, most beautiful girl I’d ever met. I was terrified I wouldn’t be enough for her, but you—you encouraged me! You said I had nothing to worry about. You said you were my friend!" Adam’s voice cracked as the memories poured out, his eyes reddening with unshed tears.

The crowd around them grew larger, the curious whispers growing louder as everyone listened intently to the drama unfolding between the two friends.

"I introduced you to her!" Adam shouted, his hands trembling as he gestured toward Lilith, who now stood at the front of the crowd, her expression a mixture of shock and recognition. "I thought you didn’t like her, and then... I found out you did. And you know what? It hurt. But I let it go. I wanted you to be happy. I let you date her because I cared about you more than I cared about my own feelings!"

Lucifer's face drained of colour, his heart pounding in his chest as Adam's words hit him like a sledgehammer.

"And then," Adam’s voice trembled even more now, "there was Lute."

Lucifer’s stomach twisted painfully as he saw Lute appear through the crowd. Her eyes, once so warm and understanding, now burned with fury as she met Lucifer’s gaze. She had begun to piece everything together, and Lucifer felt the weight of her judgment pressing down on him.

"You went after her too," Adam said, his voice now quieter, broken. "You couldn’t just let me have anyone. You made sure I couldn’t even be friends with her. You pushed me away—over and over again."

The whispers from the crowd were growing louder now, filled with judgment. Lucifer could feel the weight of their eyes on him, and for the first time, he felt vulnerable. Exposed.

"I thought you were healing," Adam continued, his voice barely above a whisper now, thick with emotion. "I thought you were in pain after Lilith, that you didn’t mean to hurt me. But now I see... you never cared. You never saw me as good enough for anyone."

Lucifer flinched, his body trembling as he tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Adam’s eyes, once filled with love and trust, were now cold and distant.

"All those years," Adam said, shaking his head, "I forgave you, because I loved you. You were my everything. But Eve? My Eve... my first love? I can’t forgive you for that. I can’t look at you, Lucifer. I hate you."

Lucifer’s breath caught in his throat as Adam’s words cut through him like a knife. "Adam, no—please, I—"

"You’re Morningstar to me now," Adam said, his voice shaking with finality. "I can’t even say your name anymore. I hate you so much. You’ve destroyed me, and this... this is the last time."

“We can’t be friends anymore. We can’t be anything. Stay away from, you’re no longer welcome in my house, with my family, you’re no longer welcome in my life anymore.”

Lucifer's heart shattered into a thousand pieces as he watched the only person, he had ever loved walk away, leaving him alone, broken, and despised by the very people he had tried to manipulate. The flames of the bonfire flickered behind him, but for Lucifer, the night had never felt colder.

Lilith and Lute shared a long look. They nodded to one another – it seemed they needed to have a long talk.

Lucifer glared as the two Alphas walked away from him too.

They had no right to judge him.

No fucking right.

~#~

Lucifer was so beyond stupid. He had ruined everything. All those years with Adam—every moment, every laugh, every whispered word—gone. Reduced to ruins, destroyed, crumbled into dust like fragile glass shattered by his own foolish hand. The memories that once filled him with warmth now only served to hollow him out, leaving behind nothing but a gaping emptiness that gnawed at his soul.

He could still feel the ghost of those nights in Adam’s nest, the way they would tangle together under blankets, bodies pressed close, seeking comfort in each other's presence. The warmth that had surrounded them, the safety Lucifer had found there, was gone now. Destroyed. He could still remember how Adam’s heartbeat had sounded beneath his ear, steady and calming, grounding him when the world felt too harsh. Adam’s scent had always been his sanctuary, the one place Lucifer felt truly at home, truly wanted.

But all of that was lost now. Gone.

The jealousy—the possessiveness—that had festered inside Lucifer for so long had finally destroyed everything. How could he have let it consume him? How could he have been so reckless, so blind? If only he had been honest from the beginning, if only he had told Adam the truth about how he felt. If only he had had the courage to say, I love you. Maybe then things would have been different. Maybe then Adam wouldn’t have walked away.

He should have told him. He should have told him.

If Lucifer had just opened his mouth, told Adam how his heart beat faster every time he was near, how the thought of losing him was more terrifying than anything else in the world... maybe it wouldn’t have come to this. But he hadn’t. He had kept his feelings locked away, hidden beneath layers of fear and denial. He had let his insecurity fester, had allowed his jealousy to take control, and now... he was paying the price.

And it wasn’t just love that he had kept hidden—it was fear. Raw, paralyzing fear. Because Lucifer was an Omega in love with another Omega. In their world, that was unheard of, taboo. His family had already disowned him, cast him aside like he was nothing more than a stain on their name. His parents had turned their backs on him the moment they found out what he was, cold and unforgiving. Lucifer had known nothing but pain, rejection, and loneliness—except when he was with Adam. Adam was the only warmth in his life. The only light in the darkness.

Why hadn’t he told him that? Why hadn’t he begged Adam to stay, to understand?

Lucifer clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as the self-hatred boiled inside him. He should have told him! Should have told Adam how much he needed him, how terrified he was of being alone again. But he hadn’t. He had kept his mouth shut, playing some ridiculous game of pretending he didn’t care, pretending that Adam’s happiness with Eve didn’t feel like knives twisting in his heart. And now it was too late.

He had ruined it all.

The bruise on his cheek, dark and aching, was proof enough that he would never be forgiven. Adam had hit him—Adam, who had never raised his voice in anger, who had always been gentle and kind. Lucifer had pushed him so far, driven him to a breaking point, and now... now there was no going back. That bruise was a mark of everything Lucifer had lost, everything he had destroyed with his own two hands.

Adam wasn’t just his best friend. He wasn’t just the one person who had stood by Lucifer when everyone else had turned away. Adam was his family. His only family. His only friend. The love of his life. The only person Lucifer had ever truly loved, the only person who had ever made him feel like he wasn’t broken, like he wasn’t something to be ashamed of. And now, because of Lucifer’s stupidity—because of his foolishness—he had lost him.

Lucifer had lost the only chance he had at true love. All because he had been too scared, too selfish to let Adam go when he needed to. He had tried to hold on too tightly, too desperately, and now the very thing he feared had come true. Adam had slipped away.

Lucifer sank to the floor, his body shaking with the force of his grief. He had thought—God, he had thought—his plan would work. That if he just waited long enough, if he stayed close enough, Adam would realize that it was Lucifer he was meant to be with. That no one else could ever love him the way Lucifer did. But it had all been a lie, hadn’t it? A pathetic fantasy he had clung to because the truth—that Adam would never love him back, that Adam would choose someone else—was too unbearable to face.

Lucifer pressed a trembling hand to his cheek, to the bruise that still throbbed with Adam’s anger, and his heart shattered all over again. He had wanted to fight for Adam. He had wanted to believe that love—his love—would be enough to bring them together in the end. But now, all that was left were the ruins of what could have been.

The silence around him felt suffocating, the loneliness unbearable. He had lost everything that mattered, and the worst part was... it was all his own fault.

[serafilms]

song 99! up all night (stray kids) + tim drake (spotify wrapped event)

i don't want to go to sleep now, i’ll be making a masterpiece now, i look for caffeine without even realizing, start with a cup

If there was one thing you loved about your job, it was the all the attractive people who came in for their daily dose of coffee. Not that everyone who drinks coffee is attractive, but you worked at a coffee shop near the local university. A pretty nice, aesthetic but not overly themed coffee shop, with actually good coffee.

Which meant all the students from the university and some other cooler looking adults often populated it. There was always a new beautiful face every day for you to admire. And you loved it.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” You heard your coworker say. You looked up and did a double take. Not because the customer in front of the counter was super hot, or anything (but he probably was, when he didn’t look like total shit). The circles under his eyes weren’t dark, because that implies that they could have been darker, but there was absolutely no way they could’ve been. This guy literally looked like the undead.

“Biggest iced americano you’ve got, no water and eight extra shots.”

Your coworker’s jaw dropped alongside yours, and you watched her splutter for a moment before gathering her composure. Props to her, because your jaw was still on the floor.

“Are you sure? That’s like 600 milligrams of caffeine.”

“More, actually,” you interjected, feeling both eyes turn to you instantly. You tried not to shrink under the customer’s pseudo-vampire-zombie stare. “Our espresso shots have like 75 milligrams each.”

Your coworker nodded fervently and turned to the customer again.

He seemed to ponder this for a moment, and you started feeling hopeful that he would cancel the order and go with a simple iced caramel macchiato until he said, “Actually, make it two. But no ice in the second one. I’ll save it for later.”

You both deflated and your coworker rang up the order as you grabbed two large cups and a pen. “Name?”

“Tim.”

“Alright, ‘Tim.’” You wrote the name on the cups and then went to make his drinks. You sick freak.

‘Tim’ plopped himself over at a table in the corner of the store by the window, and took out a very large laptop.

He looked so focused on his work that it scared you a little bit, so you took your time making the drinks to delay the inevitable handover.

“Why are you going so slow?” The voice of your coworker startled you as she appeared at your side.

“I’m really scared of him,” you whispered.

She surveyed the guy. “Yeah, he might not even hear if you call his name. I think you’re gonna have to go up and give them to him.”

“What?”

“Sorry, babes.”

“You’re the worst.”

She responded by shoving you out from behind the counter.

You felt yourself shaking a little as you walked up to the scary, workaholic, caffeinated man, but you managed to steel yourself enough to place the two cups in front of him, and stammer out a, “Here are your drinks.”

He glanced up at you and managed a polite smile that looked surprisingly human, which made something flurry up in your stomach. Wow, my standards must have really dropped, you thought. Still, if you ignored how terrible he looked, you supposed he wasn’t bad looking at all. His hair only looked slightly unwashed, but it was nicely cut and dark, and his eyes were a nice shade of blue.

“Thanks, uh,” Tim squinted at your name badge and you wondered if his vision was blurry from sleep deprivation, “Y/N.”

You kind of liked the way he said your name, you couldn’t lie, but you had dignity to uphold, and crushing on a walking health hazard didn’t seem like the way to do that. So instead, you nodded and made your way back to the counter.

Tim stayed all throughout the rest of the morning rush, then finished his first coffee around midday and immediately dug into his second. He stayed until your coworker clocked out, giving you an incredulous look as she left, and your next coworker clocked in. Then around the afternoon, he stood up suddenly and went to the counter.

You rushed to be the one to greet him (having failed to explain his story to your other coworker for fear of Tim hearing).

“Hi,” you said, feeling a little silly as the words left your mouth, “what can I get you?”

He looked a little amused and a little more awake (thanks to the establishment’s primo coffee beans, not paid promotion), and you felt the tips of your ears heat up as he took some time to look you up and down. You felt a little self conscious under his gaze as he scanned over your face, and you tucked a bit of loose hair behind your ear. You were seriously into this guy now, oh my god.

That was one downside of working in this job, you got flustered very easily by the attractive people.

“I’m running a little low on coffee,” Tim said, and your eyes flicked towards his table to see two empty cups, “and I was hoping to order another.”

“Another 10 shot death drink?” You felt a little panicky as you soon as you said the words, wondering if you’d overstepped a line and the strangely attractive caffeine addict might attack you. You weren’t supposed to judge customer’s drinks.

Thankfully, he grinned. “Death drink?”

“I mean, it’s almost double the recommended intake of caffeine. And you’ve drank two.”

“Point taken. What do you drink?”

“Oh,” your face turned warm again, “I don’t drink coffee.”

Tim blinked. “You’re a barista.”

“Yeah. I like hot chocolate,” you offered helpfully.

He let out a surprised laugh, then said, “How about this? I’ll order a hot chocolate to go instead, if you write your number on the cup.”

Your eyes widened. The tips of your ears felt hot again and your stomach did another little flutter. He was flirting with you. Oh goodness.

“Okay,” you squeaked. “Deal.”

Tim grinned at you. “Thanks Y/N.”

You rang him up, blushing furiously and hoping he couldn’t tell and rushed to make the drink. It was pretty quick this time around, but you took extra care to add a little extra chocolate powder the way you liked it, and when you were done, you wrote your number on the cup and added a little heart for good measure.

Tim was all packed up and ready to go when you were finished, waiting for you at the pickup area.

“Thanks,” he said again when you handed the cup over, and for once he looked a little bashful. You liked that. “I’ll call you. Or text you.”

“Either is good,” you smiled, face still impossibly hot.

He gave you one last smile as he exited the shop, and you immediately collapsed against the counter when he was gone.

“What was that all about?” Your coworker asked.

You waved him off. “Nothing.”

Oh my god.

some of y’all have got third eyes or something bc there’s no way this song + character match up happened

[moiravim]

Blonde Hair

PLATONIC brother!Draco x reader

Summary: Yn is the daughter of Regulus Black but was quickly taken in and adopted by Narcissa. YN is extremely insecure, but her brother Draco is always there for her. (Second person)

Warnings: YN has dark hair, fem YN, mention of blood

1.3k words

Your father, Regulus had died before you ever met him and your mother died during childbirth. The closest thing you had to a family was always the Malfoys. But even after having your last name changed Lucius had always called you 'yn black'.

You grew up feeling like you had no family and the only person who had ever made you feel any differently was Draco.

Draco always made sure you felt loved. You'd always been close and would always play together as kids.

As you grew older Draco had realized how you feel. It made no sense to him because he had always seen you as his real sister and he didn't get why you saw it any differently.

Your first year of Hogwarts was coming up and you were horrified. You wanted everyone to see you as a 'real' Malfoy. Lucius had gifted you an amulet which would change your darker hair to platinum blonde.

The amulet was a large oval with a glowing mist-like substance inside. It hung from a thick silver chain, worn as a necklace.

You were obsessed with it since the moment it was gifted to you. "YN, really... You don't have to wear that stupid necklace! You were perfectly fine without it!! No one's even here to see you-" Draco complained but you immediately cut him off.

"You just don't understand what it's like not having a family!!" This 'stupid necklace' was the thing keeping me together at the moment. It made me feel like I really did fit in with the Malfoys.

Draco's eyes started to water as his face got red. "I'm your family!" He shouted as a tear slipped down his cheek. He immediately wiped it away and hid his red eyes with his hand.

You felt bad, but you knew he was wrong. He was just trying to make you feel better. He wasn't really your brother. He was your cousin and Narcissa was your Aunt. You had no parents. No brother.

The ambiance of Draco's room continued to become more and more akward. You sigh before hugging Draco and rubbing his back. You didn't want to, but, you knew he'd do the same for you.

He hugs you back tightly as a few more tears fell from his eyes. You hadn't realized at the time he was scared of the same thing you were.

You left his room, going back to your own so you could finish packing. You and Draco left for Hogwarts tomorrow and had to leave early to get to the Hogwarts express.

When you layed in bed, anxiety took over you. 'Everyone would find out I'm not Draco's real sister and they'll all hate me!' you told yourself.

After another hour of restless sleep you sneaked into Draco's room. He was still awake and was writing in his diary. He smiled as he watched you peek into his room.

He pat the spot next to him as he wrote in his journal and you made your way over to him. You sat, resting on your knees. "I can't sleep... I'm scared. What if everyone finds out I'm not your real sister?"

He looks at you sadly. He's obviously tired of hearing about it but you have no one else to express your fears to and he knows it. But the part about you not being his 'real sister' really hits hard.

He was disappointed you didn't see him as a brother, but he was too nervous to say anything. "YN. Everyone will love you. I promise. And even if they don't I'll always be here for you." He says truthfully.

"You really think they'll believe we're siblings?" You ask once more as Draco nods.

You rested your head on his fluffy pillows before happily falling asleep with little to no worries.

You woke up the next morning in your own bed. An outfit was picked out and placed folded on your chair with your amulet on top.

You slowly woke up and got dressed. You hid your amulet under your shirt before leaving your room to go find your brother.

"YN. Your going to be late. Go meet up with Narcissa and Draco. They have your things." Lucius said as you nodded and rushed downstairs.

Lucius eventually met up with the three of you and you left for Hogwarts. When you entered the train you followed Draco to find empty seats.

Eventually a few of Draco's friends found their way to your section and sat with you two. It was fun and for once you could see some resemblance between you and Draco. You swore to yourself in this moment you'd never let anyone see you without your amulet.

A month into the school year and everything has been going great. Your best friend is Pansy, but you also hang out with Draco and his other friends.

Still none of them know your not really Draco's twin and you couldn't be any happier. Sadly it wouldn't last.

You had already made enemies due to your brother. Harry and Ron often picked on you. You didn't blame them though because of how your brother treated them.

"You know, you guys really aren't good people" you stated, tired of their constant bullying. "Says the Malfoy! Your the definition of evil" Ron argues back.

"Don't you dare talk bad about the Malfoy name!" You snapped back. You were close to loosing it. You decided to use your one talent against them.

"Duel me! Two against one! I'll prove you both wrong!"

They laughed, thinking it'd be an easy win but you knew there was no way they'd win.

You yelled out spells, constantly stunning them and blocking their counter spells.

While you were busy fighting Ron, Harry had used flipendo against you. Your body was flung into the wall and you landed roughly on the floor.

You hadn't cared for the glass stabbing into your chest, all you cared about your hair. The platinum blonde hair that was giving you a reason to live.

You sobbed out, curling in on yourself. You were so close to winning, how could things have gotten this bad. Of course you'd underestimated Harry.

You pulled at your hair as your body started to shake. The worst part was all the students watching you fall apart.

Everyone in the school would find out your not Draco's sister. Your life would be ruined.

Your eyes remained slammed shut as you felt someone pull you into their arms. "Shhhh....shhhhh... I'm here. Everything is going to be okay... My sweet sister, you don't deserve this." Draco said as he brushed out the hair you had tangled.

He lifted you up and took you away from the crowds and into the Slytherin common room.

He rested you onto the couch and noticed blood going through your white shirt. He immediately unbuttoned it to see your crushed amulet stabbing into your skin.

Draco's frown deepens as he inspects your cuts. They weren't too bad, but he still felt horrible he wasn't there for you sooner. He wished it never had happened.

He discards the amulet and cleans the blood from you. A few minutes later Pansy rushes in, hugging you as your cries die down.

"Oh, YN! I was so worried, I heard what happened... Harry and Ron truly are horrible" Pansy states as she hugs you tightly.

You smile at her comment. Draco sits next to you and continues to rub your back as you hug Pansy.

"YN, I want to talk to you in private..." Draco says as Pansy nods, giving the two of you some space.

"This changes nothing. You always have been and always will be my sister". You begin to cry at his words and hug him tightly. He hugs you back once more before you leave to get some rest.

A/N: I'm having family problems 💔 also the amulet is based off of the owl house LMAO!!

[rillils]

do you ever think abt how we couldve seen more of nomad steve

NOMAD STEVE MY BELOVED

ohhh we were robbed, honey, in so many ways! imagine what we could have had!

- more footage of this man, luscious lovechild of hercules and adonis, most glorious chunk of deliciousness, sexy teddy bear man, the mane of a lion and the eyes of a puppy, mr Dirtied Up Good™, holy shield straps of sex, elected man with the sluttiest forearms of 2018 through 2024

- more of this Steve, who ain't playing dancing monkey for anyone anymore, who ain't asking for permission and/or forgiveness from anybody, who isn't taking anybody's shit, he just wants to fight for what he feels is right and he's not going to apologize for that, thank you very much

- his developing friendship with both Sam and Nat! them fighting like a unit! trusting each other, leaning on each other! learning more about each other! actually getting to know Steve, and his fun side, and his darker side, and his brooding side, and his silly side, and nagging him when they know he needs help but he's just too damn stubborn to ask for it

- FOUND FAMILY FOUND FAMILY FOUND FAMILY

- the three of them trying to comfort each other, each in their own (sometimes clumsy/awkward) way when a mission goes wrong, learning random words from random languages from one another (especially swear words they might have picked up in their respective times abroad lol), watching old sitcoms in their downtime, laughing together, hell even crying together, sharing too little space for too long, complaining about each other's unwashed socks, and still falling asleep on top of each other

- the few times Sam got to call his parents from a safe location. can you imagine Steve talking on the phone with Mrs Wilson? scared at first that she'll tear him a new one for putting her son in so much danger and dragging him away from home? but her knowing all too well that nobody's ever been able to make Sam do something he didn't want to do, that this was his own decision? and she's not actually mad at Steve, she just wants to make sure that "all of you kids are alright"? can you imagine Steve holding back tears the first time he hears a mother's voice talking to him, reminding him to be careful, to stay safe, after so long without it? do you think I'm crying???? I AM

- THE SKYPE CALLS WITH BUCKY

- actually EVERY SINGLE KIND OF INTERACTION WITH BUCKY, even when he's not there. Steve gazing longingly at a picture of Bucky, either physical or digital, that he makes sure to keep on him at all times. taking it out when he's lying awake at night, and everything's quiet except for Sam's snoring and the muffled sounds from the streets, and Steve thinks he saw Nat's eyes watching him in the dimness, but neither of them are going to say anything. he's just sitting in the dark, picture in hand, twirling some secret worry around in his head and missing Bucky so much it hurts. and those times (although he tries to keep these to a minimum) when he just can't help himself: he sneaks out of the room and calls Bucky, just to hear his voice. to listen to Bucky speak softly to him, his voice a little rough from sleep, but always so warm, so sweet for him. and Steve just leans his head back against the wall, and closes his eyes, and imagines he's curled up into Bucky's side, his head resting on Bucky's shoulder, with Bucky's fingers carding through his hair, and it's only then that he finds a little peace again

- all the videocalls with Bucky! the playful banter!! them arguing like an old married couple one moment, and exchanging the most besotted looks the next! Nat and Sam having to put up with all of their old-men-in-love shenanigans, and Steve never hearing the end of it lol

- Steve!! literally bounding out of the quinjet like an excited puppy when they visit his husband Bucky in Wakanda!!! overjoyed and not even bothering to hide it anymore after like the second or third time, 'cause everybody knows by now anyway!!

- all of them actually getting to rest for a while, and Steve enjoying his impromptu honeymoon with Bucky, savoring each day like it's both the first and the last of their life together, love sparkling in his eyes, happier than he's ever been before, finally free, ironically, now that he's an outlaw and a fugitive, and finding utmost delight in that knowledge

WE WERE ROBBED BLIND, HONEY

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #31

31. Monster Mash 💀 / Black Mail 💌

It’s Halloween and Bitty has officially been working at Zimmermann’s for two whole months. He’s forged an uneasy détente with Betsy, as he’s named the espresso machine, even though he still doesn’t really trust her. And maybe more importantly, he’s forged a truce with Jack, too, but that feels easier and easier with each passing shift. 

Maybe a little too easy, Bitty worries when he makes Jack laugh or catches him looking in his direction. His blue eyes are deep enough to fall into, and Bitty’s not sure he could make himself climb out. He hasn’t made his queerness any secret, but Jack is impossible to read, and the last thing Bitty needs after finally getting on Jack’s good side is a big, dumb crush on a straight guy.

Not that he doesn’t already have a big, dumb crush, to be clear. He’d just like some clarity before he gets in even further over his head. 

And his crush isn't the only thing that’s gotten bigger. Bitty’s been trying so dang hard not to notice the weight Jack has gained, not to let his gaze linger on the mound of Jack’s belly beneath his apron or the strain of his thick thighs against the seams of his pants or Lord, his butt. Jack’s butt is — the first word that comes to mind is shapely, which is mortifying because it’s exactly the kind of thing Bitty’s mama would say. But it’s true! Bitty has to look away every time Jack bends over behind the counter for his own sanity.

Today, Jack ducks out from the back of house brushing crumbs from his hands and shoots Bitty a sheepish smile. The cat ears Bitty brought two pairs of — just in case — are perched on his head, only a little darker than the hair falling into Jack’s eyes. Bitty’s own pair is orange tabby, but obviously Jack is the quintessential mysterious black cat. It took suspiciously little argument to convince him to put them on. 

His Halloween playlist is a different story. He’s just waiting for Jack to notice that every fifth song is “The Monster Mash.”

“Quiet today,” says Jack, nodding at the rain streaming down the front windows. He spoons ground decaf into a pour-over filter and fills the gooseneck kettle from the hot water tap. Bitty shudders; it’s sad enough that Jack has some hangup about desserts, poor thing, but restricting himself from caffeine might be even sadder. “I think someone else is supposed to come in at noon, too.”

Bitty’s heart sinks a little. “Someone else?”

“Yeah, one of the closers. His name’s, uh, well, on the schedule he’s Byron, but he tells everyone to call him Shitty. I doubt we’ll need him, though.”

“Why?”

“The children’s hospital does a trunk or treat event, and so does the daycare down the street, and we tend to get a lot of traffic from those. At least when the weather’s better.” Then, catching Bitty’s furrowed eyebrows, “Oh, why is he called Shitty? I have no idea. He didn’t explain and I didn’t ask.”

Bitty sniffs. “Bless his heart.” He knows it’s unfair; Shitty, despite the odds, is probably a perfectly decent guy. But someone else is going to disrupt the careful dynamic Bitty and Jack have settled into; someone else will be funnier or more professional or better at steaming milk. Or worse, he’ll be obnoxious and Jack will make himself scarce to do shift manager things and Bitty will be stuck with some guy who voluntarily calls himself Shitty. 

He watches Jack make his cup of decaf. The rain patters down the windows. It’s already past eleven-thirty, so his time alone with Jack is ticking. 

“Do you have Halloween plans?” he tries, and Jack laugh-scoffs.

“No. I’m not much for parties.”

“What about scary movies?”

“Not really. What about you?”

“Nope, no plans! Just handing out candy; my neighborhood is mostly college students, but there are a few families with kids who get excited when someone actually answers the door for trick-or-treating.”

Jack smiles a little. “I bet you give out really good candy.”

Bitty’s chest warms like he just dumped twelve ounces of freshly brewed coffee on himself, sweet but sloppy. This feels like playing with fire. But still, he says, “You bet I do, mister. King-size bars or bust. I got called ‘fun size’ too much as a kid to ever inflict them on other people.”

Jack actually laughs this time, and Bitty goes on, energized, “Besides, what’s fun about something tiny? The bigger the better, if you ask me!”

He stops just as quickly, and for a moment he and Jack try not to look at each other. He’s almost certain he’s said too much, but he’s Bitty and he doesn’t know how to defuse a situation other than to keep fucking talking. 

“And I do like scary movies,” he continues, trying to keep smiling, keep his tone light, even as he fears his expression is starting to look crazed. “When I have” — when I have a big, soft man to cuddle and hold me during the jump scares — “someone to watch with, you know.”

“I think I’m too jumpy,” says Jack, and Bitty stares at him for a moment before he realizes that it’s a very reasonable response to what he said. “I wouldn’t be much comfort.”

He turns and busies himself removing the filter and grounds from the ceramic pour-over cone, leaving Bitty to wonder if that was supposed to be pointed or if he’s way overthinking what Jack has interpreted as a normal conversation. 

“Well,” he says, trying to keep his voice even, “if you want a king-size candy bar later, just give me a holler. I’ll save one for you.”

“Merci,” murmurs Jack, rinsing the ceramic cone. “So … you really like food, eh?”

Bitty pauses in the middle of drying a mug. “Of course! What’s not to like? Food is sacred. Food is love! I’m a Southern transplant, remember. Butter’s practically part of our religion.”

Jack’s quiet. His text message from weeks ago blooms at the back of Bitty’s eyes — I just have a hard time with food sometimes. I have a hard time letting myself enjoy things — and Bitty kicks himself, hard and then harder. What’s not to like? Probably a lot, for someone who struggles with food! 

“I finally, um,” says Jack into the quiet, and then he stops short. Bitty braces for whatever’s coming.

“Is that ‘The Monster Mash’ again?”

—

Jack knows he’s gotten heavier. He’s sized up his pants and his uniform shirt and can’t deny how much more comfortably he can move with a little extra room. Does he love that he’s eating multiple hand pies almost every day? Well. He wouldn’t, if they’d been made by just about anyone else.

He’s been trying to go easier on himself. He runs every morning like clockwork, and he’s steadily improving his speed and endurance. He’s got a big frame and he’s always had a big appetite. What does it matter if he’s eating more and gaining weight? Sure, he doesn’t like the way his workout clothes cling and stick or the way he can feel sweat pool beneath his pecs and his belly when he stops at a crosswalk. He doesn’t love the curves of the silhouette he cuts in storefront windows. But his body feels good when he’s running, and maybe it is as simple as what George suggested: Run a more residential route where there are no windows to see yourself in. Focus on how the movement makes you feel, not how you look when you’re doing it. 

He’d told her about how he’d frozen up as soon as he was hit with the one-two punch of a thin, cute new coworker and his omnipresent plates of baked goods. How his impulse to restrict had immediately locked horns with his trained recovery response of it’s okay to eat what you want. He’d been angry about the temptation — how dare Bittle disrupt his fragile success at eating like a regular person — and angrier at himself for giving in so easily. And the thing about restriction is that it’s a slippery slope. If I eat one hand pie, I’ll have a salad for lunch inevitably becomes well, I had dressing on the salad, so I’ll just have an apple for dinner. Well, I ate the apple too late, so I’ll skip breakfast tomorrow. I skipped breakfast, so I can have two hand pies, but I can’t have lunch after. It never fucking ends.

Except he’s working on thinking that maybe it can.

He sips his coffee. Drinking it black isn’t his preference, but he’s still working back up to putting any kind of milk or sweetener into it. 

Why do you think you feel so nervous around Eric? George had asked.

Um, Jack had stalled. I want to impress him, I guess. I want him to like me and think that I’m as attractive as I think he is. 

And why do you think his association with food has been so triggering for you?

Because — it felt like a trap. I wanted to be cool about it but I also didn’t feel like I could be attractive if I ate like that. Or — if I wanted to be able to eat like that, I had to restrict whatever else I ate, because otherwise it would be too much.

Do you still feel like that?

Jack thinks about the way Bitty beams when he sees Jack eating something he made. He thinks about how he keeps catching Bitty’s eyes on him, the same appreciative look he used to see on people when he was thinner. He thinks about Bitty. 

No. 

He clears his throat. Bitty is watching him, his brown eyes doelike and a little skittish. It looks strange on his normally open, cheerful face. “I, uh, finally talked to my therapist,” he says, with a little laugh at his own expense. “About the food stuff. It’s getting a little better.”

“I’m sorry,” says Bitty instantly. “I shouldn’t have —”

“No, no,” Jack overlaps. “I wish I could feel the way you do about food. I wish it felt that good for me. I wish it all felt as good as — your food.”

Bitty’s in danger of dropping the mug he’s been drying for the last five minutes. As he opens his mouth, the bell dings over the door and Shitty rolls in.

“Zimmermann! What is up, my man? Other dude I don’t know! What’s up, other dude I don’t know?”

Jack almost laughs at how befuddled Bitty looks. “Hey, Shitty. This is B — this is Eric. He’s been doing the mid shift for the past few months.”

“Bitty,” says Bitty. “You can call me Bitty.”

“Bitty!” Shitty crows, hopping over the counter instead of opening the little built-in gate. “Bitty and Shitty. Love a rhyme, my man. Love a rhyme.”

He strolls into the back of house, whistling. Bitty stares after him, looking slightly undone. The corners of Jack’s mouth tug down.

“He’s handsome, right?” he says, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

Bitty’s eyes swing back to Jack, blond brows furrowed. “What?”

“Shitty. I mean, he’s a pretty good-looking guy, right? Besides the name.” Because Jack knows what a lot of guys like. He’s been on the apps. Sure, he deleted them all a few minutes later, because the whole thing was so uncomfortable and mortifying, but he’s seen the kind of guys on there: tight bodies with six-packs, defined pecs, thick mustaches, chiseled jaws covered in stubble. Jack has stubble and soft pecs that are definitely visible through his shirt, and that’s about it. 

“Um,” says Bitty. “I mean, I don’t want to be impolite, but —” He glances behind him, then lowers his voice. “He’s not … really my type? I don’t like men with too many muscles.”

Before Jack can properly process that, Shitty’s voice comes at top volume from the back of house. “Bitty! Are you the pie fairy?”

“That’s me!” Bitty calls back. “Wherever I go, pies appear.”

“Sick! Jack, dude, have you tried these? They’re fuckin’ ’swawesome.”

“Yeah,” says Jack, but his eyes are on Bitty’s. “They’re amazing.”

Bitty blinks. He looks behind him uncertainly as Shitty ambles back out, apron tied loosely around his waist. 

“Zimmermann, my man,” he says, clocking in with a flourish, “you are rocking those ears.”

Jack reaches up and startles: he’d forgotten the cat ears. “Oh. Thanks. Bittle — it was Bittle’s idea.”

“Bitty, you must be a miracle worker,” says Shitty. “If you told me when I started here that I would one day see the great Jack Zimmermann being voluntarily fun and whimsical, I would have asked for some of whatever you were smoking because it must have been good.”

Jack flushes. Bitty’s eyes grow wider.

“I’m, um,” he says, taking a slow step back. “I’m going to take my break, if that’s okay.”

“Absolutely,” says Shitty, tossing a Sharpie up in the air and catching it behind his back. Jack watches Bitty go, and even though he’s been working with Shitty practically since Zimmermann’s opened, even though Shitty is the only coworker Jack has ever hung out with outside of work, he feels like the room gets a little darker once Bitty is gone.

Shitty keeps chatting, drifting from one end of the counter to the other as he continues to toss the Sharpie up and do increasingly complicated maneuvers to catch it. Jack doesn’t process any of it. 

“Hey, man,” says Shitty, waving a hand in Jack’s face. “Earth to Z-man. You good?”  

“What? Yeah. Just — zoning out. What did you say?”

“Just asked if it’s been busy today.”

“Oh. No, it’s been quiet. Hey, uh, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Shitty raises an eyebrow. “Sure.” Then, a moment later: “Yo, is this ‘The Monster Mash?’ Hell yes, dude.”

It takes everything Jack’s got not to chase Bitty down in the back of house. Instead, he measures his steps and stops a few yards from where Bitty’s pretzeled into a corner, his phone awkwardly plugged into the outlet under the little row of cubbies for employee belongings. Because the back of house doubles as the bulk storage area, he’s sitting on a box of paper cups, his weight barely making a dent in the cardboard.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

Bitty’s head snaps up. “Oh! Hi. Has it been fifteen minutes?”

“No.” He scours the storage boxes for something that might hold his weight, but decides not to chance it. “Uh, I just wanted to — it felt like we were sort of … in the middle of something. Before Shitty came in.”

Bitty watches him carefully. “What kind of something?”

“I don’t know,” says Jack, a little helplessly. God, he wishes Bitty would stand up. He feels huge and hulking looming over him, like the giant in a fairy tale. “I’m kind of new at this. But I guess … I hope it’s something?”

It’s a long moment before Bitty says, “Me too.”

Then, without moving from his cramped position on the box, he adds, “So you’re not into Shitty?”

Jack kicks out a laugh. “No. Definitely not. But, um …”

“Yes?” says Bitty, unfolding his small frame and taking a step toward Jack. 

“But I am into you,” says Jack softly, and when Bitty takes another step closer, they both lean in.

Bitty’s mouth is warm and soft, and he tastes like sugar and coffee. He has to stand on his toes to reach Jack’s lips, and when his hands land on the bulges at Jack’s sides, Jack barely thinks of flinching.

“That’s good news,” Bitty whispers into his mouth, several seconds into the kiss. “Because I’m pretty into you, too, mister. If you haven’t noticed.”

“I told you,” murmurs Jack. “I’m new at this.”

“Doing fine to me, sweetheart,” says Bitty, and even though Jack knows this is what people call falling, it’s been a long time since he’s felt so steady. 

He forgets Shitty’s out front manning the counter. He forgets that they’re in the storeroom of his father’s flagship coffee shop. He forgets to feel bad about himself. He forgets everything except for Bitty in front of him.

They kiss. They kiss. And then they just stand, Bitty’s head tucked beneath Jack’s chin, the honey scent of his shampoo wafting up. Bitty’s arms snug around Jack, somehow still a perfect fit.

“The Monster Mash” starts up again from the stereo.

“You hear that, Mr. Zimmermann?” says Bitty, batting his eyes as Jack laughs. “They’re playing our song.”

[fadingdaggerr]

hello :] i had an idea / req for you!

melissa/reader where r is new around (new teachers aide, teacher, anything rly), they’re just new so melissa isn’t exactly head over heels yet. but then maybe smth happens to r where they’re in trouble or hurt and melissa ends up being to one to find and take care of them, and melissa realizes how quickly she’s growing attached OMFG THIS IS SO LONG AND SUCH A RAMBLE SORRY! run with it however you’d like xoxo -🧛🏻‍♀️

blush to ruby

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! think i stuck pretty true to it, i went with r getting hurt rather than an altercation just bc my last fic was more that route

warnings: hurt/comfort (but literal hurt. like pain hurt), mentions of blood and a non-serious injury, r should’ve had a that’s so raven moment tbf, kinda short oops

note: title is light to darker shade of red to show deepening feelings, in case u were curious. i wanted to call this “unfortunate foreshadowing” but it’s a little on the nose

melissa hates lunch duty. everyone does really, she wasn’t alone. but what no one ever really talks about, recess duty. the worst part was the screaming, the occasional crying, and the constant whining when it was time to go back inside. somehow after running around at top speeds for twenty minutes straight, the children the even more hyperactive.

maybe it wasn’t so bad. ever since you started at abbott last semester, melissa found herself enjoying the extra time with you. she liked the little one-on-one conversations with you that this time allowed her. melissa thought it was rather sweet how you interacted with the little eagles. she’d watch as you ran down the line of swings, pushing each student as they giggled and yelled higher, higher! but this week was a blessing to the children, mr. johnson finally inflated the sad looking dodgeballs in the recess bins. four-square is a very, very serious matter.

“alright little eagles, huddle up,” melissa shouts with her hands cupped around her mouth.

“time for the rules,” you say, getting a collective groan in return, “don’t give me the uuugh stuff, half of you break them before the game even starts.” you hear melissa chuckle beside you, making you visibly struggle to hide a smile.

“no hitting the ball when it’s not you’re turn. only hit the ball with your hands, not your face. i’m looking at you, tyler,” you give him a playful glare, he sticks his tongue out in response. “hit the ball out of the bounds, you’re out. if it bounces more than once in your square, you’re out. catch the ball, you’re out.”

the kids create their teams and start playing, you and melissa are really only there to stop them from literally butting heads, and to grab the ball if it rolls out. four rounds in and everyone was laughing and having fun. melissa particularly enjoyed being gifted a dandelion flower crown that you helped one of her students make, gently laying it on top of her hair.

“last round, then we’re heading back in!” you call to them. when they change players, it’s all fourth graders, only one of which was from your class. melissa could recall that when yasir had been in her second grade class, he mentioned his sister played volleyball at the high school, and she taught him all about it. melissa turns to give you the heads up right as the game starts. the ball bounces into yasir’s square, to which he smacks with all his might. the sheer speed of the ball gave you no time to duck, smacking you straight in the face.

your hands fly over your nose, eyes already watering from pain. melissa can hear the muffled string of swears under your hands and immediately jumps into action, although shaking a bit with need to help you. she ushers the kids back inside the lunchroom to get them to their teachers. she runs to janine and asks her to watch her kids, and teacher lee to watch yours, while she takes you to the nurse.

“nurse alayna isn’t here today, but her office has the same key as the conference rooms. just leave her a note if you take anything other than tissues,” lee says as they wave your students over to their group.

melissa settles on guiding to the office with a hand on your lower back, quietly telling you she’ll help you and that you’re okay. she sees more tears form in your eyes when your pull your hands back, blood covering your palms. her hold on your waist tightens with reassurance, your tears making her protectiveness over you grow. when you get into the office, she holds tissues to your nose as you wash your shaking hands.

you cringe when you sit on the paper covering the bench, the sound of it making the pain in your head worse somehow. melissa noticed and watched as you stood up to rip away the paper violently, muttering asshole under your breath. even when you were in pain and crying, you were still you.

she replaced your hold on the tissues as she carefully wiped away rogue tears and blood with a tissue, apologizing when you winced. “okay hon, i’m gonna have to look at it for real now,” she speaks softly, as if you’re a scared animal.

you shake your head and ramble, “no, no, i can do it. you don’t have to look at it, it’s probably disgusting.”

she drops the tissue to hold your hand, “i’ve seen worse, i was married to a man,” this makes you chuckle, then wince from the laugh. “i want to help. i’ll be careful, i promise,” she holds her pinky out to you. she feels your smile under her hand more than she can really see it, but her heart rate quickens when your pinky wraps around hers as tight as possible.

“what’s the damage, dr. schemmenti?”

pulling back the tissues, melissa can see that your nose and the area around it was swelling a little. she used a featherlight touch to graze her finger up the bridge of your nose, checking to see if it had been broken. a hiss of pain from you has her hand retracting, apology hot on her tongue.

“sorry, sorry. i’m a wuss with pain and blood and all that,” your hands have a vice grip on your knees as you rush your words.

melissa’s thumb caresses your wrist, “don’t apologize, it hurts like a bitch. i just need to lightly pinch the bridge to feel if it’s broken, okay?” you grimace at the question but nod. “just squeeze my hand if it hurts, don’t worry about hurting me,” she reassured you, holding your hand, interlocking your fingers.

only about three second later, with an almost broken hand, melissa concludes your nose is not broken. she gently cleans off the blood from your skin, so gentle you can barely feel the touch except for the fabric of the towel. your hand stays in melissa’s, the looser grip allows her to feel the anxious vibrations still running through you.

she decides she has to make you feel better, “once we get you all patched up, how about we raid the lollipops? i know she’s got some around here, she saves me the bubble gum ones.”

you laugh a bit, careful not to disrupt the last of her work, “bubble gum? what’s wrong with you?”

“they’re horrible and i love them, okay? what do you even like? strawberry or something else boring?”

“root beer. obviously.”

“you don’t even like root beer, you’re a diet coke purist. you told me root beer tasted like minty iced coffee,” melissa says as she throws out the tissues and disposable towel, making a note of them and the future candies.

your free hand rises, “listen the lolly version is better than the soda. and there’s no diet coke lollipop, now is there?”

melissa relishes in your laugh for a moment, “you got me there.”

you’re able to run out to your car to grab a sweatshirt to replace your stained shirt, melissa standing guard as you changed in the backseat. she held back a cackle at seeing a delicately embroidered cursive, reading bon fromage, with a small stitched image of a wheel of cheese on a boat beneath it. you try to hold back your own laugh as you say, “don’t even start, it’s all i had in the car.”

“no, it’s cute. it’s ridiculous, but very cute,” she responds with a stifled laugh.

“if you’re done laughing, i’ll take that lollipop now,” your say, holding your hand out.

melissa drops your root beer lollipop in your palm, but you quickly switch them. her eyes never leave you as you unwrap the candy and place it in your mouth. her heart rate picks up and her skin warms, she blinks rapidly to erase the totally platonic thoughts she was having.

intent eyes watch as your tongue moves the candy to the side of your mouth to speak, “okay, maybe it’s not so bad. but root beer is still better.”

“i told ya,” she mumbles as she unwraps her own lollipop and tries it, “dammit. you were right.” you laugh and give yourself a little round of applause at her response.

you clear your throat, suddenly nervous, “thank you. you didn’t have to, even if you say it’s fine. just, thank you anyways. i really do appreciate it, melissa.”

she wraps an arm around your shoulders, leading you back into the building as she thinks about how to respond, “and i’d do it again in a heartbeat if i had to.”

the rest of the day has melissa has this nagging need to check on you, even with only two and a half hours left in the day. she had to wrangle with herself to not rush to ask how are you or peek through the window and see for herself. the deep-seated feeling to protect you only quadrupled in size after seeing you in pain, feeling you grip her hand for support. taking care of you had felt second nature to the redhead.

when the kids cleared out, she quickly grabbed her things and walked to your classroom. she lingered in the doorway as she watched you pack away your planner and a couple folders for grading away into your bag. she knocked lightly on the doorframe to announce herself before she was caught staring, only to be met with soft eyes and a smile, a hand motioning her closer. as if she’d ever stray far from you again.

on the nose. get it :D i’m sorry.

feedback appreciated, love y’all big time

[massivechildtidalwave]

Interesting prompts involving KHR in case anyone wants to use them. KHR X DP edition

This is part one there will be more. Feel free to use just tag me if possible so I can read them.

After a reveal gone wrong Jazz takes Danny and runs to Italy to escape their parents. (she took Italian for curiosity sake and it makes sense for her to go a area who’s language she could speak). Tucker and Sam help with the escape but because all of them leaving would be weird and raise questions they don’t need, are forced to wait until the end of the school year to join them.

Jazz takes the easiest job she could find that makes money because she’s not relying on her brothers best friends family money even if Sam insists, with Tucker giving school information to get through the required bits as quickly as possible. She lands on a high paying customer service job like hairdressing or

Tucker also gives them fake identification just to make sure the government can’t find them and force them back to the Fentons.

whoops! Some members of the Varia frequents the place that she works and are suspicious. (She is way to capable for the job, No CIVILIAN should be able to catch Bels knifes, do hair to perfection and still have time to coo at a cat from across the street while being completely unfazed by the KNIFE they just had to dodge. It’s just something that doesn’t happen.)

Something is clearly not right with Jazz Nightengale, they just know it! Whoever did the background check is getting fired!

Meanwhile with Jazz, she’s doing her best to be normal but she was born a Fenton and there is just a amount of insanity that is tied to that family no matter the legal connection.

Everything Danny learned came from her and I feel like she’s the kind of kid to have picked up knife tricks or random weaponry for the “experience”

Danny is healing, he’s doing online school, she has a well paying job and is going back to school to become either a psychologist or a therapist. In her mind everything is fine.

(Tucker is the kind of kid who breaks into government documents for fun with outdated technology, he could absolutely get his own handmade documents past Varia inspection, he was making them with the intention of them holding up to government scrutiny and is best friends with Sam. )

(Jazz lived in a murder house her entire life while basically parenting Danny, not only can she multitask she is also Flame Active. However I think she would instinctive hide her Flames because of how ‘unnatural powers’ have been handled in her family. I’d place her as either a Rain or a Cloud depending on how well she is mentally after escaping with Danny. This could lead to Cloud Gaurdian Jazz.)

🦋🦋🦋

For Angst or Hurt/Comfort lovers

Danny as Verde could lead to some interesting angst. Maybe Dani needed some help keeping her form and he went into science, maybe we threw himself into science after a Nasty Burger explosion to avoid becoming like Dan, or maybe he had to quickly find a way to earn money after a Reveal gone wrong and decided to use what he knew about technology from his parents to make things for selling.

Of course once he had money he could experiment a little bit. slowly making more and more things based on his interests instead of just for money. However it slowly gets darker as he makes slightly more unhinged experiments with different methods to explain them.

He wants to create a new better prosthetic out of boredom but doesn’t have any one to give him feedback, until he runs into someone attacking someone else. He saves the injured person but their arm is pretty messed up, he might have to remove it. And his prototype is an arm prosthetic so might as well get that feedback!

He remembers his parents muzzles quite well and makes a more horrible version after a nightmare as a way to help get his footing back. “If someone can get out of this, I have no reason to fear their variation of them because I could probably get out of them too! And I recently had to help someone escape an abusive ex so we already have a willing test subject!”

Just him justifying his projects as they get closer and closer to things his parents would have come up with, without noticing or acknowledging that that was what was happening.

The earth shattering revelation when he’s sitting on the ground recovering from an experiment on how to grow back to how he was before the curse, because he had no other lab rat to test it on, and slowly realizing that he’s acting like his parents.

That his fellow Arcobaleno aren’t just distrustful of him and his experiments because he is a stranger to them but that they slightly fear him.

The realization that they only come to him when desperate for an answer. Figuring out that he knows the least about the others not because he is busy but because they do not fully trust him enough to stay around him long enough to give him that information….

Verde, who used to spend countless nights protecting people so much it became an obsession before the accident and his core turned to discovery and the stars, isn’t sure how to fix this.

He gathers the Arcobaleno after making sure the cure works, sits through a meeting full of suspicion he had to talk his way through, slides the case holding the cure into the table and leaves for his labs. The labs he needs to throughly clean and bleach and sort through to make sure all his projects aren’t as bad as they were before, but at this point he had no clue what is supposed to be morally correct to him at this point.

The Arcobaleno are left confused. Verde was doing his mad scientist shit with the cure but he was acting…weird. Weirder than normal, he didn’t demand anything for the cure, nor did he stay to monitor the effects for *science* like he always did for projects like this. He was acting weird enough Skull even went to the lab they knew he was in and tried to talk to him. They were fully expecting him to get pulled into an experiment but Verde just yelled at him to go away.

He sounded panicked. What the fuck was going on with their resident scientist.

[lovebugism]

Okay, hear me out. The reader has a birthday in the summer and boyfriend!Steve is throwing her a little surprise bd party somewhere outside of Hawkins, along with Eddie, Robin and the kids 🥹🥰

thanks for your request!! — the one where steve harrington and the rest of the gang try hopelessly to celebrate the grump of the group (grumpy!reader, established relationship, 2k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

A heart-shaped cake sits on top of a rotting park bench.

It’s obviously homemade, slathered with sage green icing that’s visibly uneven — bare in some places and thicker in others. Your name is written on the very center in a darker shade of juniper. At least, you’re pretty sure it’s supposed to be. The letters are sloppy and nearly illegible. It could say anything really, and you’d have no way of knowing.

Several smaller hearts are dotted around the top and the sides, looking more like gloopy circles and poorly drawn birds. You figure they were added as an afterthought, perhaps to distract from the various dents around the edges of the cake.

Despite all that — or maybe because of it — your heart swells with an inhuman sort of warmth.

You didn’t think people cared enough about you to bake a cake for you. Or to throw a surprise party for you. Honestly, you didn’t think anyone besides Steve even knew it was your birthday. The thought makes your chest feel tight, a healthy mixture of mirth and panic.

Several faces smile expectantly at you. You blink owlishly back at them. The twittering sounds of nature fill the anticipatory silence.

“Sorry,” you apologize in a half-sincere monotone, fidgeting awkwardly on the wooden bench seat. “I just… I never know how to respond when a group of people sing Happy Birthday to me.”

Steve smiles and smoothes a palm up and down your spine. His honey eyes flit between your profile and the burning striped candles on top of the cake. “I think most people usually blow out the candles at this point, babe.”

“Yeah,” Robin concurs from across the bench, sitting squarely on the edge to fit beside Dustin and Eddie. Her blue eyes widen as her maroon-tinted mouth quirks slightly upward. “If they burn too low, they’ll set the cake on fire.”

Eddie beams at her words. His chocolate eyes dart between Robin, the cake, and you. “Wait… That actually sounds kinda cool,” he lilts with a soft chuckle.

“No! Not cool!” Dustin argues in response. His bushy brows pinch together in disdain and his nose scrunches at the thought. “We worked hard on this cake, okay? So let’s maybe not ruin it—”

“I thought it was already ruined?” you blurt before you mean to.

The curly-haired boy snaps his attention from Eddie to you, equally as confused as you seem to be. “What?”

You shrug with a flat face. “I don’t know… I thought you guys, like, dropped it on the way over here or something.”

You’re too kind to be mean, too aloof to realize how insensitive you sound. 

You thought it might’ve been the perfect explanation for why the cake looked so… messy. Dustin was a perfectionist to boot, and Max commanded the boys like it was her job to do it. With their forces combined, you figure they could make just about anything five-star bakery-worthy.

This heart-shaped cake in front of you isn’t perfect. It looks more like what would happen to a sheet of paper if you gave toddlers a bunch of finger paint. Because they weren’t trying to make it flawless at all. They were making something sweet for you and having fun together while doing it.

You can imagine the kids laughing as they flick flour at one another and smear green icing on each other’s cheeks. Your chest warms all over again. Your heart glows with a happiness you often keep hidden.

“Considering it’s your birthday, I am actively choosing not to take offense to that statement,” Dustin responds after a beat of silence, a sincere smile on his boyish features.

“We made it ourselves, actually,” Lucas tells you with his own grin. He sits adjacent to the former boy, shoulder-to-shoulder with Max. Despite the many inches of space on either side of them, his bare arm brushes against her freckled one.

“That makes sense,” you mutter to yourself.

Steve exhales a laugh from beside you. His broad hand squeezes gently at your shoulder. “Blow out the candles, babe. Before you actually do set the cake on fire.”

Your chest inflates with an inhale that you blow out through your mouth. The flickering orange flames shift sideways for a moment before turning into wisps of gray smoke. 

The group around you starts to applaud. Some of them cheer quietly for you. It makes your brows furrow with distant contempt. You shrink into yourself, not made to be easily celebrated.

Steve smacks a kiss to your cheek, then. His plush, pink lips smush against your skin and pull into a beam a second later. His eyes sparkle with the sunshine expression when you turn to look at him. 

His arm curls more intently around you to hold you closer. Even though you make no move to hold him back, you melt into him just the same. His smile widens when he feels you grow heavier against him — much less tense than you usually are.

“What’d you wish for?” he wonders with his brows raised.

In a deadpan, you answer. “That goes against the philosophy of wishes, Harrington.”

“Right,” he concurs in a scoff. You feel his chest rumble with breathy laughter. It makes you lean further into him before you realize you’re doing it. 

Steve notices, though — rather quickly, because physical affection never did come easily to you. His already wide smile grows somehow fuller. His nose smushes into your hair when he pressed a kiss to your temple.

—————

The cake quickly disappears as everyone cuts themselves a slice and downs it with vigor. It’s less about being dreadfully hungry and more about there being something innately delicious about homemade pastries. 

Dustin tells you he calculated the recipe himself — comparing the backs of several cake mix boxes and what he knew you liked best. That, along with Max’s strangely distinct cheffing ability, created the perfect cake.

It was just dense enough, just sweet enough, just soft enough.

Despite its mess, it was undeniably made with love.

When Steve dismisses himself to get the cooler of drinks he left in his car, you take your slice of cake with you. You hold the festive plate in one hand and a plastic fork in another. Blanketed by shade at the side of the vacant road, you confess with green icing on the corner of your mouth — “Can we go home now?”

Steve huffs as he drops the heavy cooler on the grassy trail. He rises with a furrow to his brows.

“What? We just got here,” he answers with a soft chuckle, reaching his arm out for you. His knuckles brush gently at your chin as his thumb swipes over the corner of your mouth. 

The action is too quick for you to dodge. Your features scrunch in disgust when he licks the rouge icing from the pad of his finger. 

“We haven’t even finished eating yet.”

“But it’s so hot,” you gripe, face twisted in a distant pout. “And there’s, like, a million things I’d rather be doing.”

“Well, that’s rude,” the boy jokes with his head tilted to his shoulder.

“Everyone just, like… keeps talking to me. And looking at me. I don’t like it— it’s weird.”

Steve smiles, pink and lopsided. “God forbid someone pays a little attention to you every now and then, huh?”

“You do it enough,” you grouse like you’re not grateful for how much he loves you. Your face is fixed in a deadpan to conceal the adoration you have for the boy in front of you. Your eyes twinkle with all of it, anyway. “I don’t need anybody else to give me attention.”

Steve’s chest swells — with pride, perhaps, or maybe with how much he loves you. A healthy mixture of both, maybe.

“Damn right, you don’t,” he singsongs lowly before leaning down to kiss you. His soft lips press against your scowl. He feels like the white puffy clouds above you and tastes like the blue sky surrounding them. 

You don’t want to lean into them, still a bit pouty in your way. 

You regret not kissing him harder the second he pulls away from you.

He picks up the cooler and flashes you a soft, sympathetic grin. “C’mon, babe. Just a little while longer, okay? And then I’ll take you home. I promise.”

He’s about to walk away from you, turning on the heel of his dirty sneaker and expecting you to follow him. 

You don’t, though. You cross your arms over your chest and stand in one place, calling out for him before he can get too far. “Wait!” you blurt, still quiet in your plea.

Steve stills. He turns back to you, his brows raised expectantly. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence passes. You shift your weight on your feet and hold yourself tighter, letting the sounds of chirping birds and rolling breezes fill your quiet until you can find the words — the courage to say them, more like.

“That wasn’t my wish,” you confess gently.

You don’t say anything more than that, despite how vague it sounds. You expect him to understand you without having to plead for him outright. He usually does, though sometimes he loves to hear you beg.

Now, he’s just purely confused. 

“What do you mean?” he presses, not teasing you, just trying to understand you better.

“When I blew out the candles,” you explain, monotoned and still slightly pouting. “I wished that… you’d kiss me.”

That wasn’t entirely true. 

Actually, you wished that all of this would be over a lot quicker than how dreadfully slow it was going. 

You loved your friends, you really did, but you were not the same extroverted being who loved surprises that your boyfriend was. You’d much rather pretend you weren’t another year older and spend the day in bed, wrapped like a present in Steve’s arms.

And you don’t mean to lie about all that, but you don’t know how else to ask for another kiss.

You’re still learning how to be more openly affectionate with him — how to let Steve be more affectionate with you. He’s learning how to give you more space just the same. He can be too suffocating at times, he’s found, and his relationships have wilted like a dying flower accordingly.

You’re both looking for that sweet spot, the exact middle between too clingy and too distant. You’ve found that in each other in a lot of ways. The two of you bring a bit of both that balances you out perfectly.

Your words make Steve melt. 

He exhales a sharp laugh through his nose, chest swelling with so much love that it hurts him. His nose scrunches as he walks the short distance back to you. “Well, what kinda douchebag would I be if I didn’t let my girl’s wish come true on her birthday, huh?”

He drops the cooler at his feet again, and it crunches beneath the green grass. Melted ice and canned soda swish audibly from within it as he takes you in his arms. In the cool shade, his wide palms smooth around your hips to warm you like the summer sun.

You keep your arms crossed over you like you didn’t just beg him to be this close, still holding your plate in one hand.

“A huge one,” you answer, voice as flat as your face as you blink up at him. “You already are, actually.”

“Says the girl asking me to kiss her,” Steve jokes with a crooked grin.

Though your own smile threatens to quirk the edges of your lips, you fight to keep it hidden. “I take it back,” you quip at his teasing.

You’re lying, but he already knows that.

“No, you don’t,” he lilts with the shake of his head. He beams at you, perhaps too fondly than you deserve, and leans down once more to give you exactly what you wanted.

His pink lips lock with yours in a mixture of vivid hues. He tastes like sweet cake and sweeter soda. The rough pad of his tongue licks against your mouth to get a taste of you, too. It’s as soft and sweet as you’re still learning how to be.

[myymi]

goddamn how many bodyguards do you have

And

who ordered the 'depressing backstory'?

bodyguards;

Tails could feel his nervousness shoot through the roof as he followed Sonic to the field, one of his paws tightly gripping the metal bat the hedgehog told him to hold to keep him from picking at his fur as the other squeezed the older’s paw. Tom and Maddie had decided that it'd be good for Tails to attend Sonic's practice today. It'd give him a chance to socialize with other kids without being too overwhelmed by it since they'll be more focused on practicing. And while he didn't distrust the humans, he couldn't help but disagree. Being surrounded by a group of teenagers never ended well for him. He's fairly sure he's got some lasting marks to prove it, too. But the adults have done nothing but show him love and kindness, he didn't want to go against their wishes. “Hey guys!” Sonic greeted with a wide smile, using the paw that wasn't holding onto the fox to wave at his baseball team. He got a few different greetings from his teammates in response, “My little bro is gonna watch us today.” Tails’ ears pressed against his head when he was addressed, his cheeks flushing as he hid behind the hedgehog. He was still getting used to the title of being Sonic's brother, it felt like a dream. “Finally!” One of the boys with brown hair, green eyes, and pale skin groaned, placing a hand on his hip as he gave Sonic a frown, “We've only been asking you to bring him for, like, forever!” “Austin’s right!” A girl with much darker skin said, standing up from where she had been sitting on the ground. The beads in her braided hair clinked together as she ran up to the mobians. “We’ve been waiting for him!” Tails squeaked quietly as Sonic laughed, “He wasn’t ready to come yet, Aniyah. He just got here a few months ago.” He explained, letting go of the fox's paw to pull him into a side hug.

this fic is basically me taking my brother's old baseball team and making them sonic's lmao

backstory:

Sonic nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned and came face to face with the little fox. He had just been up on the crow’s nest, how was he so silent? Sails didn't look at him though. His eyes were staring at the deck of the Angel’s Voyage, “Ye want me tale, don't ya?” He asked, almost too quiet for the hedgehog to hear him. “Huh?” Sonic blinked at the fox dumbfounded. It had only been an hour or so since their last interaction and the kit was obviously not in the mood to share his story any time soon. What changed? “I..” The fox trailed off. His cheeks flushed red in what the older assumed was embarrassment before he turned to face the sea instead, “I'm sorry.” “For what?” Sonic didn't think the kid needed to apologize for anything. “For gettin’ agro with ye.” Sails grumbled, one of his tails raising so he could pick at the fur on it. “Rose and I talked, and–” “Sails, no,” The teen interrupted the younger, shaking his head, “You're right to be upset with me. I pushed you too much. I'm sorry” The kit looked up at him at that, blinking in surprise at the apology. He wasn't used to people saying sorry when they upset him. “Whatever.” Sails said, shaking his head and looking away once again, “Do ye want me tale or not?" "Only if you want to tell it." Sonic smiled at the fox despite knowing the kid wasn't looking at him. “It's your choice, kiddo.” The fox turned to glare at him at the nickname, “Don't call me that.” The hedgehog quickly nodded and raised his hands in a surrender, “Alright, alright. No nicknames, got it.”

finally revealing who's getting the depressing backstory lmao

i wanted to play around with the prime tails trio's past and this is sails's. i have gone into mangey and nine's too much just yet, but they'll get there own trauma <3

[gowonders]

forgive me ♥ h.k + k.th

huening kai x vamp!reader x taehyun

notes : 1/2 halloween works done!! 😓 i kinda didn’t wanna upload this, but if it’s what gowonder nation wants it’s what gowonder nation gets! ummm honestly this may or may not be worse than the choi line fic… idk my writing has been so bad lately!! i’m so sorry!! 🥹 and yes, i brought in spoiled taehyun here ;3

minors dni with this!

warnings : read this over once.. , english isn’t my first language, fem reader, mean/hard dom hueka, mean/hard dom taehyun, mild cursing, vampire doing vampire things (basically marking..), unprotected sex, (please wear a condom omg.) reader wears crop tops, bulge kink, degradation (needy, slut..), orgasm denial, oral (f rec.), hair pulling, double penetration, mentions of spit kink( kai spits in readers mouth like once), taehyun is really strong so like.. mentions of bruising!!, lmk if i missed any !

you may or may have not been lying to your best friends.

sure, huening kai and taehyun were understanding when you explained the whole “i can’t go out in the sun much, i get sunburnt super easily” thing, but your fangs?? (the ones everyone found cute??) you just always said “oh, they’re just my vampire teeth!” and everyone just assumed you were kidding.

you really weren’t.

and your friends soon found out the truth.

you, huening kai and taehyun were all gathered at taehyuns place, and it was just you all gathered in his room, sitting on his bed, scrolling on your phones. which was just a way you bonded, even if it was a little unconventional. the silence was soon broken by taehyuns loud groan and him flopping against his bed. “i’m sooooooooo hungry guys. give me a sec, i’m gonna come back.” and with that, it was just you and kai.

maybe you didn’t notice it, but you had been squirming and not-so-subtly biting on your lip the whole time you guys were together, but kai did. “yn, what’s going on with you? you’ve been acting a little weird, are you that hungry?” he laughs, he knows that’s probably not it, but something is going on.

and that was your absolute need for blood, you really really tried so hard to hold back, but it was so hard for you.. “um. it’s nothing, i’m probably just hungry, yeah!!” you laugh awkwardly, laying back on the pillow behind you, and you can’t help but just keep your eyes on his neck, unmarked and flawless, and how perfect it’d be if you could just.. taste him. you were close enough.. maybe you could just., sneakily sink your teeth in? maybe kai wouldn’t mind.. he’d understand? for his friend?

“yn what the fuc-“ last words he said before your sharp fangs sink into his neck, whispering a “forgive me” before doing so, and a soft whine from you goes against his neck. and kai can’t say he’s not into it.. a broken groan is heard from him, and you dig your nails into his shoulder at the sound.

the moment is interrupted by huening kai lightly hitting your shoulder, trying to pull you off his neck. “y-yn,” but he gets cut off by taehyun, who’s about to drop the snacks he gathered for you guys. “what is going on here…..?” he asks, jaw slack and cheeks flushed in shock. as soon as you hear that almost condescending voice, you pull off, all teary eyed, he just tasted sooo good, and you wanted more. and your eyes snap to meet taehyuns darker ones, but all you can do is give him wide eyes and stutter.

“is our yn.. actually a vampire? who would’ve guessed?” he smirks, practically throwing the food onto his desk and walking over to stand over you. “may i?” he asks, not really letting you respond as his thumb enters your mouth, prying it open so he can see your fangs, his finger tracing around your teeth. “how cute.” he mocks, pulling his thumb away, but not before smudging the excess blood along your lip.

“guys.. it’s n-not what you think-“ you say, face warm with embarrassment. but taehyun cuts you off. “yn, really? because i think i know what it is. hueka, what do you think, should we punish her? she did ruin your perfect skin.” he laughs, eyes drifting over to his friend. “taehyun.. i don’t think that’s necessary.. like- i’m sure she just had to do it.. it’s fine, really..” he says, hand cupping over his neck, “mmm. no. i think we should. yn, go clean the little mess your needy self made, yeah?” his hand gestures toward kai who’s trying to not get blood on taehyuns (presumably expensive) sheets.

you whine with embarrassment as you move back to kai, moving his hand away from his neck, and with a shaky breath, you run your tongue along the wound, cleaning up the leftover blood you couldn’t get, and this practically flips a switch in kai. his large hand starts to pet your head as your clean him up, and in a quiet voice, he mutters to you; “you’re doing so well, yn.”

you pull away, and taehyun, who’s still standing over you, puts his hand on your back, leaning to your ear. “you okay with this?” he asks, you nod, and when you do, he asks the same to kai. “are you?” “mhm-“ hueka responds. “good, because i reallyyyyy wanted to see my best friends fuck. you’re at my house after all. so we do what i want, right? so kai, fuck yn?” taehyun says.

you hated how spoiled he was growing up. sure, it was nice when you didn’t really have money at the mall so he’d buy you some food, and you got a hell of a present for your birthday, sure! but he expected that he got everything he had ever asked for. and everyone obliged..

which is why taehyun is sitting in the corner of his room, on a chair, eyes laser focused on kai pinning your wrists to the bed. “that’s probably a good idea, kai. you don’t know, she could get needy again, keep her in her place…” he says as he snickers, and your face heats up in embarrassment even more, and kai rolls his eyes before smiling at you and mouthing “sorry.”

his hands trail down your body, stopping at the skin that shows from your cropped shirt, thumb caressing your stomach slightly before his fingers hook under the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down easily, his eyes dart to your panties. “yn, no way you have a little bow on your panties, you little tease! have you been planning this, huh?” kai mocks, finger rubbing over the small ribbon on the waistband. you just whine in response. “soooo needy, jesus. just fuck her already, kai.” you can hear taehyun groan from across the room, but huening kai does just that. quickly pulling his own pants down, and having his length positioned between your legs.

he inserts you slowly, as to not hurt you, making sure you’re okay before he starts to actually move, a small gasp leaving your lips once he does so, which makes taehyun and kai both chuckle. your eyes travel from kai to taehyun, and he’s just watching you two, and palming over his pants.

however, your attention gets sent back to hueka as he taps on your cheek. “look at me.” he says. “taehyuns not fucking you, i am.” slight jealousy could be heard in his voice, and if that wasn’t apparent to you, it definitely could be seen in the way his pace became ruthless almost immediately, making you let out a broken whimper. “don’t complain yn, im- we’re gonna punish you. like we said. maybe if you didn’t keep acting out, i would actually take my time with you, but needy girls like you don’t deserve that.” kai say, taking a hold of your hips and using the leverage to fuck into you harder, leaning his head back and groaning at the way your walls clamp down on him as he does so.

after a bit, kai takes a hold of your hand, squeezing it, before bringing it up to your stomach and putting it on your stomach, making you feel him through it. his hand is on top of yours, thumb running over your knuckles as he keeps your hand there. but seriously.. all you can do is whine in response. “i did not fuck you enough for you to be acting all stupid on me.“ kai says, rolling his eyes as he fucks into you at an even quicker pace than before, making you cry out in pleasure. “k-kai….! i’m close!!” you mumble. “oh? so you can say that but not anything about how grateful you are for this? what a slut.” kai chuckles, and just before you reach your high.. he pulls out. which pains him too.. but he knows that’s not all he’s going to get from you. “huekaaaaaa.. why..??” you whine, and he just scoffs, pumping his length over you before white ribbons on seed lay over your stomach and cunt.

“sorry. you were acting too good for this, had to punish you.” he sighs and shrugs, looking back at taehyun. “you wanna clean her up, taehyun?” he asks, and taehyun almost jumps out of his seat, and stands next to kai, admiring the little mess he made of you.

“did so good, kai.” he smirks, making kai laugh a little before taehyun positions himself between your legs, starting to lick up huening kai’s seed from your tummy, then slowly kissing down to your core, a low laugh leaving his lips as he inserts one finger in you, making you shiver, before he connects his lips to your cunt. broken whines leave your lips at this. “too much!! please, let me rest—“ you plead, but taehyun starts to use his tongue in you, along with his fingers, which really shut you up. “i was getting tired of hearing her whine, thanks tyunnie~” kai laughs, even if you were getting practically ruined before him, he couldn’t stop joking at anything.

your thighs close around taehyuns head in a weak attempt to get him to wait a bit, but this just spurs him on, using two fingers instead of one, and now using his tongue to rub at your clit. it doesn’t help that you were so close before, so the way you have to hold back is crazy, and taehyuns rough pace is definitely contributing to how you’re just about to break.

“taehyun.. pleasee-“ you whine, back arching off the sheets as your fingers lace through his hair, grabbing and pulling at it. “yeah yeah, fine.” he says in a rushed voice, he was gonna be the one to make you finish first, not kai. but like everything in his life, he got alot of things first. and this was going to be one of them.

and with that, your riding out your first high of the night against your best friends face. because he wanted it. he gets whatever he wants.

after that, they let you rest for a second.. not like they want to stop, but they know you’re probably a little out of it. letting you lay in taehyuns lap as huening kai strokes your hair. taehyun stares into the wall for a second, hand caressing your back before he speaks dryly. “hey yn.. i kinda wanna match with hueka, you’ll do that for me? pleaseeee?” without thought, you’re sitting up on taehyuns lap, his thigh slotted between yours.

your shaky breath goes against his neck, and taehyun has a wide grin on his face, looking at hueka, who looks almost nervous for him. you were not gonna deny the fact you still wanted to do it, but something about piercing him gave you more guilt than doing it to kai.. whatever. he wanted it.

you sink your fangs into taehyun, a hushed “fuck-“ leaving his lips as you feed on him, he was literally perfect. even if he was an asshole sometimes.

“o-okay.. yn.. i think i-it’s okay…” he mumbles? stroking your head, slowly trying to pull you off, making you whine in disappointment. “did you clean me up, yn?” you nod, sitting on your knees as you wait for something, anything else. taehyun motions huening kai over, whispering something just quiet enough so you couldn’t hear. of course. hearing taehyun snicker and kai sigh with a smile and wide eyes.

however, you soon find out when you’re placed between the two, and you look up at kai, who’s infront of you. “huh…?” you say, tilting your head as taehyun pressed his hard on against your ass. “well, we couldn’t decide who got to use you next.. so if you’re cool with it, could we both?” taehyun says. “even though it should just be me, technically.. i feel nice enough to share, right?” he mutters under his breath, waiting for you to respond. “s-sure.” you mumble, hiding your face in kai’s chest, making him chuckle. “noooo, keep your eyes on me.”

soon enough, you can feel them both prodding at your entrance. “guys. no way.” you mutter, you could barelyyy fit kai, no chance you could fit them both. “we’ll make them fit. cmon.. for me?” taehyun says, caressing your thigh as he kisses your shoulder. but, he always gets what he wants, huh? “yn, we’ll go sooo slow, if it’s still okay?” kai adds, giving you the most trusting smile he can, because in all honesty, he wasn’t too convinced, either. he didn’t really want to have to wait on taehyun though.. he doesn’t have his patience.

you sigh shakily. “alright…it’s fine.” you whine. you’re still kindaaaa prepped from earlier, but you feel someone’s fingers starting to enter your core, scissoring his fingers for good measure, before they pull out, and taehyun decides to slide into you first, a groan leaving his lips as he does so, and once you’re okay with it, he slowly moves in and out of you, just to prep you more. “okay… relax. kai’s gonna go in, okay? tell me at any point if it gets too much.” taehyun whispers, kissing your shoulder once more. with that, you can feel kai start to enter you so slowly, and you feel so full. a broken whine leaving your lips at the feeling of being stuffed by the two, and taehyun and kai are faring no better, taehyun groaning at the foreign feeling of kai’s cock sliding up against his, and kai letting out small whines at how your walls are basically sucking him in.

taehyun chuckles, still kinda too lost in how this all feels to actually move, but he’ll never not find a reason to tease someone. “kai, you’re whining more than our cute little slut right here, you’re more needy than her at this point..” he says, a smirk on his face as he studies the only face he can see, kai’s. who’s lips fall to a flat line as he sighs, looking away from taehyun to meet your eyes. at least he could see your pretty face, which totally made up for taehyuns teasing.

without warning, taehyun thrusts up into you, a groan leaving his lips, and that causes kai to mirror his movements, both of them taking a second but they finally match up enough to where it’s not awkward, and from there, it’s pure bliss. the way you feel so full and it’s a dull pain, but it’s a good one, and the way all of your sounds fill taehyuns very expensive room.. it’s almost too good to be true. there is no way you just got all of this.

your legs tremble from the sheer pleasure you feel, the way they stretch you out in the best way possible, and how good they sound to you. you have to hold onto huening kai’s shoulders to keep yourself up, and he weakly laughs, thrusting into your core with a harsh pace. “can you not keep yourself up? huh? we fucked you stupid already?” kai taunts. “most of the other girls i use like this take it so much better than you did.. so needy but you can’t even take us? pathetic.” taehyun adds, a grin on his face, taking the opportunity to speed his pace up even more, and the way his hips snap into you, you swear it’s gonna leave a bruise.

“not gonna use that mouth to answer us? only gonna use it to make those useless whines?” kai says, tilting his head at you. you shake your head, eyes squeezed shut so you can try and focus, but it’s almost no use. his fingers trace your lip, “open” he commands, and you comply, opening your mouth, and his fingers reach to your fangs, pricking his own finger with them before he spits in your mouth, making you feel inexplicably weak. “swallow, you’re not gonna use your mouth for anything else, right? might as well.” he says, an evil grin forming on his face as he watches you squirm, swallowing his saliva.

”jesus— kai….” taehyun says, gripping your hips even tighter, whichll probably also leave bruises. “stay fucking still, yn.” he pulls your head back by your hair, making you look back at him. “didn’t do all of this just to have you be all whiny and squirm like you don’t like it, if you didn’t, you’d tell us, but instead your moaning like some needy slut.” he rolls his eyes, his tip starting to abuse the weak spot you have, making you let out a staccato scream of pleasure. “p-please!!! so close!!” you beg, just to get ignored, but they share a look, maybe, just maybeeee they’ll let you cum.

as you get even closer, your pleas become incoherent. they definitely fucked you stupid, but they’re finally gonna reward you. “you wanna cum, yn?” taehyun asks, still pounding you as fast as ever, as kai whines in pleasure too, he’s really so into this, too. “yes!! please, tyunnie!! please!!” you beg, leaning your head back so your eyes meet his. which moves him enough to sigh and groan. “okay.. you earned it, yn.” making kai snap his eyes open, finally getting to watch you unravel on his length, and that’s all you needed.

your climax hit you hard, cries of pleasure leave your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut, velvet walls fluttering around the two as they help you ride out your high, your release triggering theirs, loud groans and whimpers bouncing throughout the room as they paint your walls white.

they pull out of you, and you clench around nothing as their seed drips out of your core.

“oh, shit, taehyun your sheets are gonna be ruined.” kai says, trying to catch his breath slightly as he laughs.

“you don’t think i’ll just buy new ones?” he asks, and his tone is serious… you cannot with this man,

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

happy october~ ♥ this is definitely one of my least fav works, but i hope you guys like it!