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caroletheperfumeaddict · 3 months ago

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Louis livestreams to help us through the dark times

Here is a list of Louis livestreams I've compiled. Most of them were compiled over the course of FITFWT but some date from LTWT and earlier - they vary in quality and there are some duplicates, but shot from different viewpoints. Feel free to add any others you find. :) NB: you'll have to cut and paste some of the links, I don't know why. All links were working at the time of posting.

2020

London livestream: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e0or2ZerDMQ

Barcelona: https://youtube.com/watch?v=jvHXBXqR4sk&t=4s…

Madrid: https://youtube.com/watch?v=PE8NNkAt39U&list=PLZM0lUMngUKG2PhNKKxpq9CB_9RMhWfz_

2022

Louis Lokerse 2022: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL0ZNqfoCw44-F2MJuOb7DzGKp56Xalvp6

Louis Rio 2022: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DpO5I7_nAZE

Louis Melbourne 2022: https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=cqvnx87wuvg

Manila: https://youtube.com/watch?v=H0LnChhArzQ…

Mexico City N3: https://youtube.com/watch?v=fUNjzwm7E8E

Dallas: https://youtube.com/watch?v=H3_oS67TU_w…

LA N1: https://youtube.com/watch?v=qkqGbYJeRds…

Portland: https://youtube.com/watch?v=zAR_GGhOwT0…

Milan: https://youtube.com/watch?v=aFfM-kSgwq0…

Taormina: https://youtube.com/watch?v=S5_OgZ9GCFs

Faith in the Future World Tour 2022-2024

2022

Pryzm N1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uV-IGBPwXg&t=4s

Pryzm N2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Kg0J8TC6xc&t=3s

Pryzm N2 (playlist KMM to end): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLt5cIJRWJmR--kJiDDZrHOJZJ5ooFWZQ3

Shepherd’s Bush (playlist): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3_QC-3L9GXL6TTg4NcB1sqfMt9XrwLe0

2023

Uncasville: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=atCdjfGtcNE&t=1s

Uncasville: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbGvwf0vQ1E

Uncasville (Kimberly playlist): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3R918fe46KgDnYvGsrX9sZ4Qb0bSTLB1

Gilford (Kimberly playlist): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3R918fe46KjfMXK3R0Yc-qchBM0YuDOt

Gilford (Jess snippets): https://instagram.com/p/Cs2U9XVLtOT/?img_index=6…

Laval (Kimberly playlist): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3R918fe46KiKPtvFcQEj381PbvvW-d8v

Laval: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8d_NakXbaTU&t=4s

Laval: (few songs, and some from Forest Hills): https://www.youtube.com/@mareeclo/search?query=louis%20tomlinson

Toronto: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnjfYFf0ayI

Toronto (30 mins): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slt8dOOJd7M

Cuyahoga Falls (46 mins): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CYKK51OaZGQ&t=7s

Cuyahoga Falls (playlist, not full, out of order): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDrROakgOvk&list=PLN47JqnNNd98AJKaTFkU9q8Y67koILZpA&index=1

Sterling Heights (playlist, thanks to 1D clips): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcDG0A3CirddH3gORm5lb-JG

Cincinnatti (playlist, not in order): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCme743TXSo&list=PL0OWNO0y9lueVqu5cmK0rOkmkvamVQbcR

Columbus (my playlist: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4RbpiZFZ7j8&list=PLOuTN46aTVcC9NgEglvTpTbSk5lDaQG3K

Indianapolis (vlog highlights, about 17 minutes. Starts about 2.54): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qd6I8XVsUSk

St Louis: no go

Kansas City: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ug_YUAZck-k&t=1s

Milwaukee (playlist): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kbtmq1JSj3A&list=PLycEgOOgImiY84Elgd0u14IVIuZCXgh7l

Chicago: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sWRcrczXb3o&t=4901s

Minneapolis (playlist): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3wSEobcd2uk&list=PLycEgOOgImibQoDwFFpkEDAcqZNzpqNI9

Council Bluffs (playlist): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQ64jEqP7Ts&list=PLycEgOOgImiZaxVhd6PEgEAEZQXKQbv9z

Sioux Falls (playlist): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ngyXZF145g&list=PLycEgOOgImiZD6rbQRE1P8e7G-ODjp8Bt

Seattle: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pSOiMt2_xPc&list=PLycEgOOgImiY8zP7zNh9EPdnBcAOIYlnk

Vancouver (highlights playlist, 7 songs): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyHnFg9h41pk8WIaRdmiL8NSVkw5xGpCz

Troutdale (Jess):https://instagram.com/p/CuBXRkFOFIw/

Berkeley (Jess):https://instagram.com/p/CuGlVbWuIWD/

Berkeley https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eEW3m_2Qwy8&t=2s

Los Angeles Hollywood Bowl: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fbe6HRWSlao&t=1s

Las Vegas (Jess):https://instagram.com/p/CuLwKknvDq3/

Phoenix: (15 mins): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwoGhh0j1Vs

Irving (my playlist, some songs and gender reveal): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcA5NhCKcVm0-qDSO39wQI-T

Austin: (almost complete, starts with KMM): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rT3TmpIwUHI

Woodlands (Jess): https://instagram.com/p/CudlhRQvoiD/

St Augustine (Kimberly playlist): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEdHQKc2iSE&list=PL3R918fe46KgJjNBIDP6G4zA6Yh2z_CyT

Hollywood Fl (Jess): https://instagram.com/p/CuqWbPDpXVl/

Tampa (Kimberly playlist): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqbHTB9Jm2w&list=PL3R918fe46Kh6KSsxqRHMs8Xe-y_1rEWa

Atlanta (my playlist, half a dozen songs): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcAlWbBLyn6R316qjxMjzzdD

Nashville (playlist): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEFQ1Qu1ijs&list=PL3R918fe46KhGsrLUiP9NQLIbmJbQyNGD

Charlotte: (my playlist, 17 songs): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcCItJdg0o16oVsRVKJKi92_

Raleigh: no go

Columbia (quiff night. My playlist, inc 6 snippets, did my best): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcAQTbk1p9c0eIh9jbTsP81Q

Columbia: (vlog, 16 minutes): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RemQ7MBqmw4

Columbia (a few songs, good quality - can’t be added to a playlist): https://www.youtube.com/@JOEJONAS2696/search?query=Louis%20tomlinson

Boston N1 part 1: https://www.instagram.com/reel/CvGm4pgJXf7/?igsh=MTYyMXBxOHB3ZWFlaA%3D%3D

Boston N1 part 2: https://www.instagram.com/reel/CvGsSYspOh_/?igsh=andqdWRtcjJ5NW1w

Boston N2: no go

Philadelphia: https://www.instagram.com/p/CvObpHlJDCF

Asbury Park: no go

Forest Hills: (playlist): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLtA8Re6VuYz-omIcyuGI1uPhlCCW-s-Q8

Hamburg: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0Z_qM1PjX8

Copenhagen (my playlist, some snippets): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcDGvZbJDVtlU_fbzFuRBpDB

Oslo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JNqCm4RuAs

Stockholm (my playlist, most tracks): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcCQsBpHsWqyp5IdzXlqQm_7

Helsinki (my playlist, selected songs - what I could find): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcCoSCtacy6YT7jWNsgOpB-a

Helsinki: (most of second half of concert - creator skipped some tracks): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_uFbfGiS6A

Tallin Estonia: no go

Riga Latvia (highlights, 20 minutes): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y4e2ocxKhRY

Kaunas Lithuania (vlog 41 mins inc meet and greet): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pYU9p2ToZ6w

Krakow: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wd-Ds3Uv0L0

Lodz Poland (playlist): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKSBnlYmMEc&list=PLsU9N7Y3vbPE8zRkvjrUX1Wb8X_gb4qxb

Vienna: https://youtube.com/watch?v=gHhEYyU1yDk&list=PLVbrA3oEcVDAJZY9SO_6N6n1Ke0qavXhR

Ljubljana Slovenia: no go

Budapest (highlights, inc Andrew Cushin, 30-odd minutes): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIO8s9V8O9E

Bucharest Romania: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6yU12hPOpo

Sofia Bulgaria: no go

Athens: (my playlist, incomplete): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcBoV0yw2jEjgXCFElTBEUDC

Bilbao Spain: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bt0giPsaXyw&t=1s

Lisbon: no go.

Madrid: (my playlist, just a few songs and snippets): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcBqmeKg5kvGHanFx4EIj2Mg

Barcelona (playlist, out of order): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJuQ3R4btMw&list=PL3dpZKr_ut9NKQKBPIfz4yoZViPEMjlgd

Turin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_EKRp_vpWIw&t=3s

Turin, again: https://youtube.com/watch?v=_EKRp_vpWIw&list=RD_EKRp_vpWIw&start_radio=1…

Bologna: https://youtube.com/watch?v=Wd-Pa4QsNfY…

Esch sur Alzette Luxembourg (highlights, 37 mins): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5iVDb3rxYIc

Esch sur Alzette Luxembourg (French-speaking vlog, about 15 minutes in centre): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pZO_4ioFBXg

Antwerp; https://youtube.com/watch?v=cxU6e7_lXZY…

Paris (playlist): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLE5GN1hVky2vIKU1IxYedafxSsdYKvAGU

Paris: https://youtube.com/watch?v=Q-iAvmhxv-4

Paris (highlights, inc barricade jump): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-iAvmhxv-4&t=1s

Amsterdam: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HBqWfrdnyHU

Amsterdam (35 mins): https://youtube.com/watch?v=KxyMe_CHEfc…

Cologne (audio only): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l5MRo-AuX98

Prague: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEpDLzbaf7w

Berlin (short playlist): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcD301jjIicnQ1h2xqUR6mlr

Munich (incomplete playlist): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcB_fpWxFptGqhf9lyTxxeRu

Munich (highlights, 37 mins): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_L14ZP9lKpw

Zurich: no go

Dublin: https://www.instagram.com/p/CzZvsPLCN1C/

Sheffield https://instagram.com/p/Cze5n6hBIR8/

Sheffield: https://youtube.com/watch?v=DGOI2AOloLA&list=PL3R918fe46KgOy3WPzUKDPhum7YPHfsyj…

Manchester:https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3R918fe46KhPZD9i75dwl1iU9on6Bz9c…

Manchester: https://youtube.com/watch?v=bW1vIEoSDvE&list=PL3R918fe46KhPZD9i75dwl1iU9on6Bz9c…

youtube

Glasgow (playlist, KMM onwards): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QnGxGzE1lkc&list=PL3R918fe46KjXL7p2_EV2lPhqI_QvdF2y

Glasgow (highlights, about an hour): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WSrO_09SzVE

Brighton (GemAgathe):https://instagram.com/p/CzpWJDCiPpG/

Cardiff: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwfV07vhxhQ&list=PL3R918fe46KgsArgMWExStCPmyKwy4b6a

London O2: https://instagram.com/p/Czw7hqMrf9F/

London O2 again: https://instagram.com/p/Czw70FaMVaW/

London O2 again (Kimberly playlist): https://youtube.com/watch?v=zs-Ghkk9s8w&list=PL3R918fe46KiuyXrvsF-_ma0wsU4KNrGp

Birmingham (my playlist, thank you to ‘H’): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcBdNfRKzgYTcRfDAeKfpqti

2024

Jakarta part 1: https://instagram.com/p/C2fNpe8PSfQ/

Jakarta part 2: https://instagram.com/reel/C2fORlJvU2g/…

Jakarta part 3: https://instagram.com/p/C2fRzW6vz0Q/

Melbourne part 1: https://instagram.com/p/C2pDVzqrKHf/

Melbourne part 2: https://instagram.com/p/C2pH91JrXfd/

Brisbane: https://instagram.com/p/C2uSBGpLYye/

Brisbane: https://instagram.com/p/C2uSTvuLUks/

Brisbane part 1: https://instagram.com/p/C2uNaRELE1V/

Brisbane part 2: https://instagram.com/p/C2uSaXorh2m/

Sydney: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8pxBuJqyNFA

Sydney: https://instagram.com/p/C22AvP7LLlu/

Sydney - great sound: https://instagram.com/p/C22AdaqL05Qt9S4BNzVr9ZXpANo0qP8FrSfrek0/…

Panama City (vlog, 40 mins): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aIAfrdU4a8E

San Juan Puerto Rico: https://instagram.com/p/C6nDZrdL9wW/

San Juan Puerto Rico: https://instagram.com/p/C6nDCK1LlxTj9RVEeYmgQ7eTUg4gRSMF6jGJn40/…

Rio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gnf1mpQa1dc&t=1s

Sao Paulo: no go

Curitiba almost full show: https://youtube.com/watch?v=CtOozz9qbSQ…

Montevideo part 1: https://instagram.com/p/C7As9-ULfrS/

Montevideo encore: https://instagram.com/p/C7AvnFjLqXD/

Buenos Aires: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8WshmIXEp08&t=1373s

Buenos Aires: https://instagram.com/reel/C7Ig0BUrmy-/?igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA%3D%3D…

Buenos Aires: https://instagram.com/p/C7IWh_ZO8Lz/

Buenos Aires, in the pit: https://youtube.com/watch?v=8WshmIXEp08

Asuncion (streamer not well): https://instagram.com/p/C7QOwKosX8a/

Asuncion Gabi part 1: https://instagram.com/p/C7QKDSRMXct/

Asuncion Gabi part 2: https://instagram.com/p/C7QOk_vML_j/

Santiago part 1: https://instagram.com/p/C7X2YLIsMNT/

Santiago part 2: https://instagram.com/p/C7X312iMYg_/

Santiago part 3: https://instagram.com/p/C7X_sPQsr4U/

Lima: no go

Bogota (playlist, most songs): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLteZClQIiEvw0EE5qjVbRL3WjQ2iCV-QF

San Jose Costa Rica: https://instagram.com/reel/C7nhgXYMTI8/?igsh=d3pvamx2eXp2OWl1…

Mexico city FEQW: https://youtube.com/watch?v=XT-peYum5Bo…

Mexico N3: https://youtube.com/watch?v=fUNjzw

Queretaro (poss part concert): https://instagram.com/p/C70ibURvTOC/

Guadalajara: no go

AWAY FROM HOME FESTIVALS

AFHF 1, UK: https://youtube.com/watch?v=ASLDNfDr2I4…

AFHF 1, UK: https://youtube.com/watch?v=OZHUmLg8FXA&t=902s…

AFHF 2, Spain: https://youtube.com/watch?v=zUsdEJ-5G_o&list=PLZM0lUMngUKEDS0kW4qilbif5xSnACFwz…

AFHF 3, Italy: https://youtube.com/watch?v=R_-w-oQ9pqw…

AFHF 4, Mexico (playlist): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3R918fe46Khhf7usAn0ZbrQxdaX3DkAz

FESTIVALS 2024

Tecate Pa’l Norte: https://instagram.com/reel/C5KpAHNsyxv/?igsh=MW05Mjd3dTRiOWY1Nw%3D%3D…

Tecate: https://instagram.com/reel/C5Kl7nkOXx3/…

Tecate: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wXnKc5CaxG8

Pinkpop: https://www.instagram.com/p/C8hoMz8iSpu/

Pinkpop (playlist, various): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3CElOapQ9F2gLCC01BD_uH1i00Yl_vEB

Main Square, Arras: https://instagram.com/p/C9AdgGjMIPp/

RuisRock: https://instagram.com/p/C9ISyEbMXTd/

MEO Marés Vivas, Porto; https://instagram.com/p/C9s1yj0solS/

Morrina, Coruña https://www.instagram.com/p/C952lWtIHNK/

Arenal Sound: https://instagram.com/reel/C-L0nayILAA/?igsh=bXd0M2U3YzRtMGVv…

Santander Music (half) https://www.instagram.com/reel/C-OkRx-I4Pe/?igsh=ZHhueXY0ZmRrdHIx

Untold: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtqFW2bMugc

Sziget (part 1): https://www.instagram.com/p/C-f8YYiMzg1/

Sziget (part 2): https://www.instagram.com/p/C-f90dFsW5X/

FM4 Frequency Austria: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3dpZKr_ut9NA2Cv9Z5EnBzBDnQGeZQ88

Frequency: https://instagram.com/p/C-vmvElsGzm/

Cabaret Vert Charleville (playlist): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3dpZKr_ut9Pq0EvgnVPNNl2uHq1IhNPB

Cabaret Vert Charleville (beginning to WDBHG) : https://www.instagram.com/p/C-0cb2UIvqf/

Victorious: https://instagram.com/p/C_UE4ZVi8MR/

Victorious: https://instagram.com/p/C_BPbxjMhl6/

Zurich: https://instagram.com/p/C_EBwtEvAVN/

Festningen Norway https://instagram.com/p/C_TQizaMQ9B/

Istanbul: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOuTN46aTVcA8LBKKvEnb7cwuu5wehyTo

Lollapalooza Berlin: https://www.instagram.com/p/C_n7VONM2qZ/

Lollapalooza Berlin https://www.instagram.com/p/C_n7vBVM8Jp/

Lollapalooza Berlin (Highlights playlist): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3dpZKr_ut9M-0_if_pZThtaI-I2EsNy6

Superbloom Munich: https://www.instagram.com/p/C_qcyafMGZQ/

Superbloom Munich: https://www.instagram.com/p/C_qbYp0s8fI/

Superbloom Munich: https://www.instagram.com/p/C_qgK57MgHK/

#louis tomlinson #Faith in the future world tour #festivals #Youtube

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sometimesanalice · 1 year ago

Text

Hey, Sailor

Summary: It’s Fleet Week and Rooster would rather be anywhere else than on the flight deck of the USS Portland. That is, until a pretty thing in a sundress catches his eye and then suddenly his day is looking up.

Pairing: Bradley”Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5.8K

Warnings: Flirty Banter, Smut, and Bradley Bradshaw in Summer Whites (Minors DNI)

Note: When @roosterforme asks you to write her a Fleet Week fic, you write the Fleet Week fic! Here you go, Em! 💛

Normally, Rooster loved Fleet Week.

He loved the lively atmosphere and the parades. He loved the free drinks that were handed to him as soon as he entered a bar. And he especially loved all the attention he got from women when he wore his Summer Whites.

He usually came back to the ship looking less than pristine with lipstick on the collar of his uniform and hidden on other places on his body.

The USS Portland was teaming with excited families and camera-happy civilians taking in the sights from deck of the transport ship as they settled in for the five-hour journey to the San Diego. It was a Fleet Week tradition to welcome people aboard for an immersive experience, picking them up from a port further up North and then cruising along the coast before making their final docking for the week.

There were grills set up on the deck and the smell of flame kissed hamburgers and hotdogs mixed with the sea salt air. The sun was shining and the mood was light.

But this year, Rooster simply could not be bothered to give a fuck.

Especially not when he could have been home already instead of being stuck giving tours on a ship that he’d never even stepped foot on prior to three days ago when he and Hangman had been given orders to join in the procession on the vessel into the city after completing a short training deployment.

His superiors had okay-ed the terrible suggestion from some random Public Relations Specialist who clearly didn’t realize that he had better things to do with his time.

Early that morning, Bradley had stood on the dock with his arms crossed and wearing an impassive scowl as they had lifted his Super Hornet onto the flight deck like it was some kind of decorative hood ornament.

Sure, it was fun to watch the kids’ eyes get wide with excitement as they ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the features as he pointed them out, but he was getting hot and uncomfortable in his uniform in the mid-afternoon sun on the black tarmac.

He’d rather be in his service khakis like Seresin. Or better yet, naked at home in his own bed.

How Hangman had weaseled himself onto barbecue duty with a beer in his hand, Rooster would never know. The bastard probably played his Texan sir, I came out of the womb grilling shtick.

And every time he passed by the son of a bitch would give him a cocky salute with his tongs.

Jake was irritating on the best day, but today he was downright insufferable.

And he knew it had everything to do with the fact that Hangman’s girlfriend was laughing and lingering at his side, having surprised him by flying in with tickets for the coastal cruise.

At least someone was having a nice time, because it sure as shit wasn’t him.

Rooster was in the process of wrapping up his fourth tour of the day and handing out a couple of Dixie Cup hats to kids on the landing deck on the stern when he was stopped dead in his tracks and had to do a double take because he eyes were definitely playing tricks on him.

You were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

And he swore for a minute time slowed down as you flashed the most gorgeous smile at some Junior Officer as you laughed along with whatever undoubtedly stupid joke he’d told you. All while the wind played with the ends of your hair.

You looked like such nice girl, such a good girl in your pretty light blue sundress.

The sun was bouncing off your shoulders and the little ruffle at the hem was taunting him with the way it danced around your thighs. It coasted over your curves like water, and fit you just snug enough that there wouldn’t be any Marilyn Monroe moments on deck, much to his disappointment. But the blow was cushioned by the stunning display of your smooth, shapely legs.

From the way your breasts bounced as you walked, he knew there was no way in hell you had a bra on under that little dress.

He’s never been able to resist a bad girl wrapped up like the girl-next-door.

From the second he saw you, he knew you were just his type.

And for the first time that day Bradley is grateful to be wearing the crisp, pressed Summer Whites.

He knew how good his biceps looked in the short sleeves of his uniform. And the way his pants clung to his legs and ass. He’d been spending a lot of his free time in the gym lately and it showed.

He never did mind playing An Officer and a Gentleman when the occasion presented itself, he was always happy to help fuel some fantasies.

The last time he had worn this uniform out during Fleet Week he ended up going home with an absolute smokeshow, so hopefully whatever appeal his uniform had for him back then can still work for him now.

Fleet Week was finally looking up for him.

However, what he didn’t like was the fact that the butterbar was still dominating your attention.

He wanted that smile turned on him. Wanted to see if the look in your bright eyes would be just as playful with your gaze pinned on him instead. He wanted to be the one making you laugh.

It’s not like he’s going to go over there and lick your face like a kid might try and claim dibs on a cupcake.

No, he was going to act in accordance to his rank and station as an Officer in the United States Navy.

Securing the white cap on his head from where it’s been tucked under his arm at every opportunity he’s had that day, he straightens up to his full height and purposefully struts over to you.

Bradley’s never been one to shy away from making an entrance.

He forcefully taps the younger officer’s shoulder, and glances down when the guy turns around to get a look at his name tag.

“Ensign Hubbard, you’re up for civilian tour duties. The next one is due to start at 1400,” he looks down at his watch for dramatic effect, “Which is in about 10 minutes on the starboard bow, so you best get going if you don’t want to be late, junior.”

He might feel a little guilty for springing this on the kid if it wasn’t entirely within his right to assign him the nonexistent task 684 feet in the opposite direction- a fact he learned in preparation for giving tours all day- and away from you.

Especially when he sees how flustered the guy gets as he rushes through his salute and the stammered apologies he gives you before he takes off in a brisk jog heading towards the other side of the ship.

He stands up a bit taller and makes himself a bit broader as your eyes sweep over him.

“Apologies for interrupting, ma’am. But I’d be happy to pick up where the Ensign has left off.”

There’s no missing the appraising interest in them as you take him in.

“The tours are starting at the front of the ship now, are they?” you muse out loud with a little tilt of your head. “What are all those folks over there are lining up for then, I wonder?”

You point deliberately to the group of people who are currently being greeted by the Lieutenant who was scheduled to relieve Rooster of tour duties for the next hour.

“Mm, that sure is a mystery. But Hubbard seems like a smart kid, I wouldn’t worry too much about him.” He shrugs with an unapologetic smirk on his face.

You lift a pointed eyebrow at him.

“So, you sent him away…” the almost-but-not-quite question trailing in the breeze.

“I sent him away,” he readily agrees with a nod. His eyes catch on a golden heart-shaped locket that you’re wearing around that dainty neck as it glints in the sunlight.

A smug smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you notice where his eyes have dropped too, “You’re not even going to deny it, Sailor?”

“Nope,” he says with a grin. “And actually, it’s Lieutenant Commander.”

“Ok, Lieutenant.”

“Commander.”

You hmm contemplatively like his rank was somehow up for debate, toying with that damn little heart-shaped locket in a way that was tempting his eyes to drift further down.

Rooster didn’t think it could be possible, but you’re even prettier up close. He knew you’d be stunning, but he couldn’t have prepared himself for the way your mischievous eyes sparkled magnetically. Or for the warmth spreading in his chest with the way you are broadly smiling at him now.

The top buttons of your dress are undone one more than would be strictly considered family friendly. But Bradley wasn’t bothered by that in the least.

Clearing his throat, he notes, “It’s a nice day for a sail.”

“Ensign Hubbard and I already covered that rather riveting subject earlier,” you tease while looking at him like well, what else have you got.

“Let me try again then.” If you wanted him to put in the work, he was more than up for the challenge. “What brings you for a casual five-hour cruise down the coast on one of the Pacific Fleet’s finest?”

“Now that’s not something we got to before he was telling me about what his ribbons meant in great detail,” you say with a laugh. “Would you believe me if I said I had a deep appreciation for $1.6 billion-dollar ships purchased with Uncle Sam’s defense budget?”

He gives you a half smile as he pretends to contemplate it for a moment, “You know, for some reason, I can’t say that I would.”

“Well, shucks,” you say with an over exaggerated shrug. “What about if I said I was roped into waking up at an ungodly hour to catch a flight up here because my best friend’s boyfriend is a Naval aviator and she wanted me to keep her company for the ‘casual five-hour cruise’, as you called it.”

“Now that I believe,” he drawled. “So, what’s his name?”

“Well, she calls him Jacob. He has one of those silly callsigns too, but I always forget it,” you scrunch your nose adorably as you search for it, “Something-man.”

“You mean Bagman?”

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

He smirks to himself.

“I take it you know him then?” You wait for his nod before looking up at him from under your lashes and asking him, “Does that mean you have a callsign too?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s Rooster.”

He doesn’t miss the way you glance down, and he definitely doesn’t hold back his pointed smirk waiting for your eyes to meet his again.

And when he gives you a cocky raise of his eyebrow, all you do is shrug.

You didn’t just look like his type, you are exactly his type.

“Rooster Bradshaw, huh?” you ask, reaching out to tap a finger on rectangular name tag on his chest. “I take it you have a first name, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Sure do,” he drawls, “But it only seems fair that I get yours in return.”

You grin knowingly at him. His cheek ticks up as you stick your hand out towards him and give him your name. It’s pretty and suits you perfectly.

Bradley says it out loud savoring the syllables in his mouth as he shakes your outstretched hand. And he gives you his in exchange.

He likes how much smaller your hand looks in his.

“Since it seems like your friend has ditched you, what do you say about getting a tour? Not to brag, but I’ve been doing it all day and I’ve got it down to a science now.”

“A private tour? Lucky me,” you purr. “Lead the way Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw.”

You knew what you were doing, he’d give you that. And he was eating it up with a spoon ready to ask for second, third, and fourth helpings.

It’s less busy on the flight deck, as people are collecting around the grills waiting for their turn in the buffet lines for the late lunch.

He starts off by showing you his aircraft, giving you a brief rundown of its features.

You run a hand over the body of his fighter jet as he wraps up his now well-practiced spiel, “Do I even want to know how much taxpayer money contributed to this?”

“It depends. Does your appreciation for Uncle Sam’s defense collection extend to F/A-18s too? Or is that strictly reserved for amphibious transport vessels?”

“I’ll keep you posted after I get the full tour,” you say coyly.

“Well then, I shouldn’t keep a lady waiting then. Should I?”

“No, you certainly should not,” you agree.

He guides you past the table that’s set up with squadron memorabilia for people to buy and to the door with a hand on your low back. He’s close enough to smell your perfume now, he wants to bury his nose in your neck to inhale the scent directly from the source.

Rooster navigates the two of you like a pro through the narrow passageways as he takes you to the mess hall where coffee and pre-sliced cakes awaited tour guests. From there he takes you to the galley, the wheelhouse, the engine control room, the 24-bed hospital ward, and the massive hull used to transport heavy machinery.

You as him thoughtful questions every now and then. And he does his best to answer them. The two of you drift closer and closer, it doesn’t escape his notice the way you brush against him when you pass by to get a closer look at some of the things he shows you.

It’s easily his favorite tour of the day.

He loves the sound of your laugh as he tells you about some of the mischief that he and members of his squadron managed to avoid getting caught doing.

Along with some of the things that they did get caught doing.

Your teasing grin and witty banter and little sundress have done a number on him. And he isn’t ready to wrap this up by delivering you back on deck until the absolute last minute he has to resume his official tour duties again.

So when he circles back to the airwing, instead of turning left when he should, he leads you to the ladder that would take you down a level.

And he knows he shouldn’t, that he could get in some big trouble for showing you areas that weren’t explicitly on the official list of tour stops. But he’s always been more of the apologize later type.

Plus, he hasn’t been on this ship for very long, it’s not his fault if he manages to get conveniently turned around.

Bradley waits at the bottom of the steep ladder, actively looking anywhere else but up as you make your descent. When you’re at level with him, he helps you down the rest of the way with a steadying hand at your waist.

And when you turn around he doesn’t step back.

You reach up and run a playful finger along the brim of his cap, “So what’s a girl got to do to get a turn wearing the hat?”

His mind flashes with images of the last time he’d let a woman wear it.

“I’ll have you know this is technically Naval property, they don’t let just anyone have one. You usually have to earn it. But for you?” he pauses and gives you a heated once over, “I’ll let you try it on for free.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want any special treatment,” you say demurely. “But I think in this case, Uncle Sam would understand. I’m a model citizen after all.”

He takes the cap off of his head and gingerly sets it on yours, “You’re something else, that’s for sure.”

It slides forward down your head, “Oh, it’s heavier than it looks.” And Rooster wishes he had his phone on him to get a picture for himself. He likes the way you look wearing his things.

“Looks good on you,” he hums, letting his finger brush against that little locket around your neck.

You run a bold hand down his chest, “Where to next, Lieutenant?”

This time he doesn’t bother to correct you, he knows the game you’re playing now.

Instead he grips your hips and pushes you against the ladder and brings his mouth to yours.You make a noise of surprise before your arms are wrapping around his neck to pull him in closer.

The kiss starts out light and teasing. Your lips are so soft beneath his. He gently grazes his teeth against your lower lip, before gliding his tongue along the seam of your mouth seeking entrance. The sweep of your tongue against his is everything. The soft moans escaping you are making his pulse thrum in his veins.

It would be so easy for him to get lost in the feeling of your perfect body against his and of the way your fingers were playing with the short hairs on the nape of his neck. But he’s already pushing the limits bringing you down here, he can’t get distracted by kissing you out in the open where anyone could stumble upon the two of you.

The small whimper that you make when he pulls away makes him grin. As does the sight of his cap sitting crookedly on your head.

He thumbs at the lipstick that’s smudged at the side of your mouth, “C’mon, I’ve got one more place I want to show you.”

This time he takes your hand as he guides you down the gray passageway and through the door on the left.

The ready room on the USS Portland is much smaller than the one’s he is familiar with from the aircraft carriers he is usually on, but the set-up is mostly the same. There are a couple of projection screens adhered on the bulkheads and there are a few rows of leather seats with a swivel tray tables attached to the arm rests.

“Tell me what happens in here.” You ask him so genuinely, so sweetly and he already knows he wouldn’t stand a chance against you with the way you flutter those eyelashes at him.

So he tells you.

He likes that you want to know these details about his job, he likes that he gets to share this with you. Even if the clock is ticking down before he has to get back on deck.

Rooster watches the tantalizing way your sundress dances around your thighs as you walk around the space. You take a seat in one of the chairs in the front row and pull the desk top over you before turning to him with a beaming smile with his cap still perched on your head.

And he is hit with a wave of affection for you so intense that it makes it hard for him to breathe for a moment.

He’s grateful when you see something else that catches your eye, giving him a moment to get himself back under control. You’ve got him feeling like he should be on his knees for you.

In the spot where he is used to seeing a lectern, on this ship there is a glossy wooden table inlaid with the ship’s coat of arm that you standing over.

“Does every ship have their own unique crest? Do you know what the symbols are for?”

He really needs to figure out who put him on tour duty and send them an Edible Arrangement or something. And maybe one for whoever put together the ten-page packet of “fun facts” that he had rolled his eyes at when he had first seen it.

“Yes, ma’am, I sure do.” He comes up to stand behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder as his arms cage you in against the table. “Yes, all ships come with their own. It’s something that the prospective commanding officers are responsible for designing when new ships are about to be launched.”

You lean forward a bit, gazing your ass against him, “Dark blue and gold are traditional Navy colors, right?” He hums confirmation into your neck, as he runs his mustache along your soft skin. He feels more than hears your sharp inhale. “What does the gear on the anchor mean?”

He drops a kiss to your shoulder, “The cog is a symbol of manufacturing, a nod to the ship’s namesake and the city’s history for building ships in World War II.”

You grab his wrist and bring his arm across your body, he takes the hint and presses in closer into you. “And the trident?”

God, you feel so perfect in his arms. Your body is fitting against his like a dream.

“The black symbolizes determination,” he murmurs into the space where you neck and shoulder meet. “And the choice of the three prongs is because it’s the third ship to be given the name.”

You lean your head to the side, and he takes the opportunity to trail open-mouth kisses up your neck. Your nails bite into his forearm in response, as you rock back against his rapidly hardening cock. “And the rose?”

“Portland is the City of Roses.”

“Does it have any other meaning?” you ask soft and breathy.

“It represents strong ties, baby. It’s a symbol for the supportive partners and wives of those serving onboard,” he whispers low and sweet into your ear.

“Bradley,” you sigh as you turn your head towards him for a kiss. It’s desperate and wet. And he can almost taste the neediness of your moan on his tongue.

He’s never done anything like this while on duty on a ship before, and the thrill of it has his veins thrumming with adrenaline.

“You’ve had me hook, line and sinker since the damn second I saw you.” He grinds himself against your ass and you whimper at the contact. “What do you want from me? I’ll be so good to you, so good for you.”

“Want you to touch me,” you pant into his mouth, “Want you to fuck me, Rooster. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about.”

“Fuck me.” He can feel his pulse thundering in his throat.

“I’m trying to,” you whine.

He barks a strained laugh before he spins you around, crowds you into the table. He doesn’t waste any time getting his lips back on yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You meet him stroke for stroke, just like you’ve been doing since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“This fucking dress,” he groans when he cups your breast through your fabric, as you fill his palm in just the right way. You arch your chest into his hand, and he was feeling entirely too self-satisfied in the confirmation that you weren’t wearing a bra. “Knew you weren’t a good girl.”

“So why are you treating me like one?” you taunt, breathlessly. Your greedy hands go straight to his cock, squeezing him through his pants.

Your hand feels so good on him.

“God, you’re so much fucking trouble,” he rasps, throwing his head back.You lean forward and your hot mouth works against the hollow of his throat.

He’s trying to undo some of the tiny buttons that line the front of your dress, but the teasing way your tongue is dipping out to trace the line of his tendon is making it hard for him to think.

“Are you gonna show me how you got that silly, little callsign of yours or not?” You give him one more squeeze, before bringing your hands up to the button of his white pants.

He knocks your hands out of the way before roughly grabbing your ass and hauls you firmly against him, “That feel little to you?”

Your gasp makes his fingertips dig further into your ass. The pretty color of your eyes has been completely eclipsed by your heavy, dark pupils. He can feel the way your thighs clench together.

“You want my attention? You’ve got it, baby,” he roughly rasps, “Go on then, show me how bad you can be.”

He dips his head down for a filthy, hungry kiss.

You push him back with a hand to his chest and a gleam in your eyes. You hold his heated gaze as you slowly undo his zipper and reach into his boxer briefs to pull him out. He moans when your thumb sweeps over the top of his cock.

Rooster thinks for a second that you’re going to drop to your knees for him, the mental image of you looking up at him with those doe-eyes is enough to make his jaw clench with desire. Especially with the way your sundress is gaping open at the top, giving him a clear view of the swells of your breasts.

Instead, you surprise him by bending over that glossy table and shimmying the skirt of your dress up over your luscious hips.

“Holy shit.”

You’re wearing the smallest, laciest little thong he’s ever fucking seen.

The band is a series of crisscrossed straps attached to some intricate and dainty floral lace. The juxtaposition of it against your skin is enough to make his ears ring. He’ll be dreaming of the way you’re enticingly arching your ass towards him for months.

And he’ll sure as shit never be able to be in a Ready Room again without getting a hard-on. The memory of you bent over the table before him will forever be ingrained in his brain.

“Is this bad enough for you, Lieutenant Commander?” You shoot him a grin over your shoulder as you wiggle your hips invitingly.

That sultry smile is swiped from your face the moment his large hand connects with your perfect ass. The sound echoes throughout the small room. He palms you once more before he yanks down your barely-there thong.

“Gonna fuck that attitude right out of you.”

Giving himself a few rough pumps, he lines himself up and slides into you with one steady thrust.

You both release an unrestrained groan of the sensation of him filling your warm, wet cunt. He barely gives you a moment to adjust to the size of him before he starts moving.

“’s big,” you sigh shakily.

“Tell me how much you like this cock.”

He slaps your pert ass again when you release a breathy whimper instead of answering him.

“Feels good, Rooster.” Your hands are struggling to find a way to support yourself as he fucks into you. “You feel so good.”

He pushes your dress higher up your body, his eyes are greedy for more of your skin. What he wouldn’t give to have you entirely naked and spread out before him. He wants to see all of you, he wants to hear you loud and needy for him.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs as he watches himself smoothly gliding in and out of you.

The little noises you are making are driving him crazy. He knows you’re trying to muffle your sweet moans and sighs and whines. The sound of your bodies coming together fills the room.

How his cap is still perched on your head he doesn’t know, it jostles every time your bodies come together.

“I need more,” you beg, “Need you to touch me.”

“Ask me nicely.” He punctuates the demand with a sharp snap of his hips.

“Please, Bradley. Please.”

He slides his hand around to the front of you, his fingers drawn to your clit like a magnet. You keen at the contact and tilt your hips into his hand. The sound is music to his ears, “That’s more like it.”

He doesn’t think there’s anything else better on the planet than being buried in your perfect pussy. You’re so wet for him. He already knows he’s going to need more of this, more of you.

“You’re taking me so well,” Bradley grunts as he speeds up his thrusts, “Looks like all you needed was a nice, thick cock. Just a sweet thing now, aren’t you?”

“Oh my god,” you gasp as you writhe against him. “F-fuck.”

He is so turned on by the way his hands span across you as he grips your waist and pulls you against him with every roll of his hips. His heart is racing in his chest.

The feeling of your body tensing around him is paradise. There is nothing he wants more than to be able to draw this out, but he is all too aware of how quickly time is slipping away from him.

He sets a rough and unrelenting pace. Redoubling his efforts on your clit, his indulgent strokes turn into tight, purposeful circles. And you cry out at the change of sensation on that sensitive part of you.

Your thighs start to tremble as his cock drags against that spot deep inside of you. The heat is pooling in his lower back as he fucks into you over and over again.

“Rooster, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby. Let me feel it,” he murmurs hotly against your ear, his thumb rubbing back and forth across your clit. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”

The goosebumps erupt across your body like fireworks a moment before he feels you shiver and tremble beneath him as you come with a choked sob. The way you spasm and clench around him is dizzying.

Bradley is teetering on the edge, your cunt felt like heaven. Warm and wet and gripping him just right. He almost doesn’t want to give himself up to it as the pressure at the base of his spine intensified. He doesn’t want to stop fucking you.

You’re so perfect for him.

He loses himself to the feeling of your pussy milking him as you continue to pulse and writhe in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He grips your hips harder as he pounds into you before emptying himself inside of you with a shattered groan.

And for a moment all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears as he works to catch his breath. Rooster feels like his knees might buckle as the soft whimper you make when he pulls out of you.

He gently pulls that lacy little thong back up and helps to pull your dress back down over your hips and thighs before turning you around and lifting you onto the custom table.

He doesn’t know how he is going to make it through the rest of the journey knowing his come is collecting in your panties.

You’re flushed and looking thoroughly well-fucked as you smile up at him brightly.

Bradley threads his finger under the chain of your little gold heart-shaped locket that was etched with a rose in full bloom, and lightly tugs you in closer for a lingering kiss.

“I see you found your gift early, baby.”

Bradley would never forget the first time he saw you that night at the bar downtown last year during Fleet Week.

He had noticed you right away, it had been impossible not to. You and your girlfriends had been all done up in hot pink outfits for the Bachelorette party you were out celebrating.

Your friend had flounced right up to Jake taking the shot of whiskey out of his hand before swallowing it down then cheekily offering to buy him a replacement. Hangman had been wrapped around her finger ever since.

While your friends had all but shoved you in his direction while he had looked on entirely entertained as you had shot a scathing glare back at them. A sparkling tiara that read Bridesmaid sat crookedly on your head.

And then you had greeted him with a “Hey, Sailor” so weak that the couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh. There was a split second where he thought that he might have fucked it up before it could even start, but then you smiled back at him.

It was a charmingly self-deprecating smile and he was yours from the moment he saw it.

“Hiding it in your nightstand next to the batteries wasn’t the most original of spots, Rooster,” you affectionately tease him. “I didn’t mean to peek, but the remote stopped working. I hope you’re not mad. I love it.”

He could never be mad at you, especially not with his necklace around your neck. You were his, and he was so gone for you.

“It looks so pretty on you,” he tells you softly as his fingers brush over your collarbones.

“Oh my god, Rooster, I can’t we defiled Naval property.” You giggle as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer to circle your arms around his neck.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been defiling Naval property ever since you brought me home with you the night we met.”

You take that cap off of your head and set it back on his, and lean in to kiss him on the cheek, “Glad I’m getting a good return on my taxes then.”

He snorts a laugh, “God, I’ve missed you, baby. What are doing here? I thought you weren’t coming until the end of the week.”

“And miss the visual and culinary offerings of the USS Portland? I wouldn’t dream of it.” You joke as you run your hands along his arms where they’re pressed on the table on either side of you. “This uniform drives me just as crazy as it did last year.”

“Just the uniform?” he asks as he nudges his nose against yours.

“Maybe it has a little something to do with the man in the uniform,” you make a little hum as you check him out. “You’re so tan, Bradley, have you been using the sunscreen I sent with you-”

He crushes his mouth to yours, you were undoubtedly best thing that’s ever happened to him during Fleet Week.

“I’m glad I still do it for you,” he murmurs against your mouth before giving you another deep kiss.

The two of you work quickly to get yourselves looking presentable again. He’s only got a little time left before he is due to return to his tour duties back on deck.

He helps you back up the ladder and takes that left turn when he’s supposed to this time. All while your hand is tucked securely in his.

When you’re both back on the open flight deck he walks you over to the railing along the edge of the ship and wraps you up in his arms to watch the coastline crawl by with his last few moments of freedom.

“I really love Fleet Week,” you say with a contented sigh, as you lean your head back against his shoulder.

The golden rays from the sun are hitting you in a way that makes his chest warm.

“I do too, baby. It’s the best.”

Yeah, Rooster fucking loves Fleet Week.

Who doesn’t love a man in Summer Whites?! Consider this my formal petition for more Dress Whites in TG3!

Thank you for reading!

Update! If you want to learn about the night they met, I wrote these two a little prequel series you can read here!

Hey, Sailor Moodboard

A peek inside the USS Portland One | Two

If you’re curious, here is some info on the crest I found! One | Two | Three

You can check out my other stories and series here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes

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drchucktingle · 5 months ago

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TICKETS LINKS ARE HERE: https://us.macmillan.com/tours/chuck-tingle-bury-your-gays/

YES BUCKAROOS the time has come for you to trot with me live and in person on the BURY YOUR GAYS BOOK TOUR. ask anyone who has previously trotted, this is not your average book tour these are SHOWS so come ready to get RILED.

on camp damascus tour most book stores did not have enough room and we had to turn many buckaroos away, so this time many of these shows are in off-site theaters. HOPEFULLY there will be enough room in larger venues but i will say it again for the buckaroos in the back, IF YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT COMING TO SEE YOUR BUD CHUCK THEN GET TICKETS NOW because last time most of them sold out. ALSO almost all dates on this tour give you a free copy of BURY YOUR GAYS with ticket purchase.

as of posting this there are three dates that do not have ticket links yet: los angeles, bozeman, and new orleans, but check back for when those trot online. EVERYTHING ELSE IS AVAILABLE NOW

more details for you buckaroos:

JULY 8TH - NEW YORK, NY at STRAND BOOKSTORE

JULY 10TH - BROOKLINE, MA with BROOKLINE BOOKSMITH at COOLIDGE CORNER THEATRE

JULY 12TH - ST. LOUIS, MO with LEFT BANK BOOKS at THE HEAVY ANCHOR

JULY 13TH - DOYLESTOWN, PA at THE DOYLESTOWN BOOKSHOP

JULY 15TH - NASHVILLE, TN with PARNASSUS BOOKS at THE NASHVILLE PUBLIC LIBRARY

JULY 16 OR 17TH - NEW ORLEANS, LA with TUBBY & COOS. more info to come

JULY 19TH - SALT LAKE CITY, UT with UNDER THE UMBRELLA BOOKSTORE at UTAH MUSEUM OF CONTEMPORARY ART

JULY 20TH - BOZEMAN, MT at COUNTRY BOOKSHELF

JULY 31ST - SEATTLE, WA at THRID PLACE BOOKS (LAKE FOREST PARK)

AUGUST 2ND - PORTLAND, OR with ALWAYS HERE BOOKSTORE and guest buckaroo TJ KLUNE at CLINTON STREET THEATER

AUGUST 4TH - LOS ANGELES, CA with NORTH FIGUEROA BOOKSHOP at DYNASTY TYPEWRITER

#bury your gays #book tour #chuck tingle #tingleverse #buckaroo lifestyle

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terrantravels · 2 months ago

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Explore the Best Features of Oregon Coast Tours and Portland City Tour

Oregon has a remarkable combination of scenic beauty and urban energy. Combining an Oregon Coast trip with a Portland city tour allows you to experience the best of both worlds, whether you're a nature lover or a city enthusiast. Here's why your trip schedule should prioritize this dynamic combo. Oregon Coast tours let you discover the beautiful Oregon Coast, which stretches for more than 360 miles, is a magnificent location with some of the most gorgeous landscapes in the Pacific Northwest. There is plenty to enjoy for everyone, from picturesque coastal villages to breathtaking cliffs and immaculate beaches.

Tours along the Oregon Coast are an excellent opportunity to discover this varied terrain. Often, guided trips take you to famous locations like the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area, where sand dunes stretch for miles, or Cannon Beach, which is home to the massive Haystack Rock. Tours might include things like trekking through coastal woods, whale viewing, or discovering tidal pools full with vibrant marine life, depending on your interests. Beautiful lighthouses like the Heceta Head Lighthouse and charming fishing villages like Newport and Astoria can be found along the coast. Here, you may savor fresh seafood and discover the nautical past of Oregon. An Oregon Coast trip allows you to fully experience the splendor of nature, whether you're searching for adventure or leisure.

Portland, a lively, eccentric city renowned for its culinary culture, craft beer, and distinctive neighborhoods, is only a short drive from the coast and provides an entirely different atmosphere. For individuals who are interested in exploring the city's culture further or are first-time visitors, a Portland city tour offers a carefully selected overview of the main sites in the area.

A typical trip takes you to famous locations including Powell's City of Books, the world's biggest independent bookshop, and Pioneer Courthouse Square, sometimes referred to as "Portland's Living Room." Legendary food carts can be found around the city, and a lot of tours that visit some of the top food trucks, coffee shops, and breweries in Portland showcase the city's culinary scene. You can also hire tour guide Multnomah Falls who helps you to discover the best features of the falls that can refresh and rejuvenate your mind. With all of these ingredients, it becomes easy to get the best glimpse of nature that can perfectly make your weekend.

#Oregon Coast tours #Portland city tour #Tour guide Multnomah Falls

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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months ago

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Google reneged on the monopolistic bargain

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and TOMORROW in SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

A funny thing happened on the way to the enshittocene: Google – which astonished the world when it reinvented search, blowing Altavista and Yahoo out of the water with a search tool that seemed magic – suddenly turned into a pile of shit.

Google's search results are terrible. The top of the page is dominated by spam, scams, and ads. A surprising number of those ads are scams. Sometimes, these are high-stakes scams played out by well-resourced adversaries who stand to make a fortune by tricking Google:

https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/tech-news/phone-numbers-airlines-listed-google-directed-scammers-rcna94766

But often these scams are perpetrated by petty grifters who are making a couple bucks at this. These aren't hyper-resourced, sophisticated attackers. They're the SEO equivalent of script kiddies, and they're running circles around Google:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

Google search is empirically worsening. The SEO industry spends every hour that god sends trying to figure out how to sleaze their way to the top of the search results, and even if Google defeats 99% of these attempts, the 1% that squeak through end up dominating the results page for any consequential query:

https://downloads.webis.de/publications/papers/bevendorff_2024a.pdf

Google insists that this isn't true, and if it is true, it's not their fault because the bad guys out there are so numerous, dedicated and inventive that Google can't help but be overwhelmed by them:

https://searchengineland.com/is-google-search-getting-worse-389658

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Google has long maintained that its scale is the only thing that keeps us safe from the scammers and spammers who would otherwise overwhelm any lesser-resourced defender. That's why it was so imperative that they pursue such aggressive growth, buying up hundreds of companies and integrating their products with search so that every mobile device, every ad, every video, every website, had one of Google's tendrils in it.

This is the argument that Google's defenders have put forward in their messaging on the long-overdue antitrust case against Google, where we learned that Google is spending $26b/year to make sure you never try another search engine:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-10-27/google-paid-26-3-billion-to-be-default-search-engine-in-2021

Google, we were told, had achieved such intense scale that the normal laws of commercial and technological physics no longer applied. Take security: it's an iron law that "there is no security in obscurity." A system that is only secure when its adversaries don't understand how it works is not a secure system. As Bruce Schneier says, "anyone can design a security system that they themselves can't break. That doesn't mean it works – just that it works for people stupider than them."

And yet, Google operates one of the world's most consequential security system – The Algorithm (TM) – in total secrecy. We're not allowed to know how Google's ranking system works, what its criteria are, or even when it changes: "If we told you that, the spammers would win."

Well, they kept it a secret, and the spammers won anyway.

A viral post by Housefresh – who review air purifiers – describes how Google's algorithmic failures, which send the worst sites to the top of the heap, have made it impossible for high-quality review sites to compete:

https://housefresh.com/david-vs-digital-goliaths/

You've doubtless encountered these bad review sites. Search for "Best ______ 2024" and the results are a series of near-identical lists, strewn with Amazon affiliate links. Google has endlessly tinkered with its guidelines and algorithmic weights for review sites, and none of it has made a difference. For example, when Google instituted a policy that reviewers should "discuss the benefits and drawbacks of something, based on your own original research," sites that had previously regurgitated the same lists of the same top ten Amazon bestsellers "peppered their pages with references to a ‘rigorous testing process,’ their ‘lab team,’ subject matter experts ‘they collaborated with,’ and complicated methodologies that seem impressive at a cursory look."

But these grandiose claims – like the 67 air purifiers supposedly tested in Better Homes and Gardens's Des Moines lab – result in zero in-depth reviews and no published data. Moreover, these claims to rigorous testing materialized within a few days of Google changing its search ranking and said that high rankings would be reserved for sites that did testing.

Most damning of all is how the Better Homes and Gardens top air purifiers perform in comparison to the – extensively documented – tests performed by Housefresh: "plagued by high-priced and underperforming units, Amazon bestsellers with dubious origins (that also underperform), and even subpar devices from companies that market their products with phrases like ‘the Tesla of air purifiers.’"

One of the top ranked items on BH&G comes from Molekule, a company that filed for bankruptcy after being sued for false advertising. The model BH&G chose was ranked "the worst air purifier tested" by Wirecutter and "not living up to the hype" by Consumer Reports. Either BH&G's rigorous testing process is a fiction that they infused their site with in response to a Google policy change, or BH&G absolutely sucks at rigorous testing.

BH&G's competitors commit the same sins – literally, the exact same sins. Real Simple's reviews list the same photographer and the photos seem to have been taken in the same place. They also list the same person as their "expert." Real Simple has the same corporate parent as BH&G: Dotdash Meredith. As Housefresh shows, there's a lot of Dotdash Meredith review photos that seem to have been taken in the same place, by the same person.

But the competitors of these magazines are no better. Buzzfeed lists 22 air purifiers, including that crapgadget from Molekule. Their "methodology" is to include screenshots of Amazon reviews.

A lot of the top ranked sites for air purifiers are once-great magazines that have been bought and enshittified by private equity giants, like Popular Science, which began as a magazine in 1872 and became a shambling zombie in 2023, after its PE owners North Equity LLC decided its googlejuice was worth more than its integrity and turned it into a metastatic chumbox of shitty affiliate-link SEO-bait. As Housefresh points out, the marketing team that runs PopSci makes a lot of hay out of the 150 years of trust that went into the magazine, but the actual reviews are thin anaecdotes, unbacked by even the pretense of empiricism (oh, and they loooove Molekule).

Some of the biggest, most powerful, most trusted publications in the world have a side-hustle in quietly producing SEO-friendly "10 Best ___________ of 2024" lists: Rolling Stone, Forbes, US News and Report, CNN, New York Magazine, CNN, CNET, Tom's Guide, and more.

Google literally has one job: to detect this kind of thing and crush it. The deal we made with Google was, "You monopolize search and use your monopoly rents to ensure that we never, ever try another search engine. In return, you will somehow distinguish between low-effort, useless nonsense and good information. You promised us that if you got to be the unelected, permanent overlord of all information access, you would 'organize the world's information and make it universally accessible and useful.'"

They broke the deal.

Companies like CNET used to do real, rigorous product reviews. As Housefresh points out, CNET once bought an entire smart home and used it to test products. Then Red Ventures bought CNET and bet that they could sell the house, switch to vibes-based reviewing, and that Google wouldn't even notice. They were right.

https://www.cnet.com/home/smart-home/welcome-to-the-cnet-smart-home/

Google downranks sites that spend money and time on reviews like Housefresh and GearLab, and crams botshittened content mills like BH&G into our eyeballs instead.

In 1558, Thomas Gresham coined (ahem) Gresham's Law: "Bad money drives out good." When counterfeit money circulates in the economy, anyone who gets a dodgy coin spends it as quickly as they can, because the longer you hold it, the greater the likelihood that someone will detect the fraud and the coin will become worthless. Run this system long enough and all the money in circulation is funny money.

An internet run by Google has its own Gresham's Law: bad sites drive out good. It's not just that BH&G can "test" products at a fraction of the cost of Housefresh – through the simple expedient of doing inadequate tests or no tests at all – so they can put a lot more content up that Housefresh. But that alone wouldn't let them drive Housefresh off the front page of Google's search results. For that, BH&G has to mobilize some of their savings from the no test/bad test lab to do real rigorous science: science in defeating Google's security-through-obscurity system, which lets them command the front page despite publishing worse-than-useless nonsense.

Google has lost the spam wars. In response to the plague of botshit clogging Google search results, the company has invested in…making more botshit:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/16/tweedledumber/#easily-spooked

Last year, Google did a $70b stock buyback. They also laid off 12,000 staffers (whose salaries could have been funded for 27 years by that stock buyback). They just laid off thousands more employees.

That wasn't the deal. The deal was that Google would get a monopoly, and they would spend their monopoly rents to be so good that you could just click "I'm feeling lucky" and be teleported to the very best response to your query. A company that can't figure out the difference between a scam like Better Homes and Gardens and a rigorous review site like Housefresh should be pouring every spare dime it brings in into fixing this problem. Not buying default search status on every platform so that we never try another search engine: they should be fixing their shit.

When Google admits that it's losing the war to these kack-handed spam-farmers, that's frustrating. When they light $26b/year on fire making sure you don't ever get to try anything else, that's very frustrating. When they vaporize seventy billion dollars on financial engineering and shoot one in ten engineers, that's outrageous.

Google's scale has transcended the laws of business physics: they can sell an ever-degrading product and command an ever-greater share of our economy, even as their incompetence dooms any decent, honest venture to obscurity while providing fertile ground – and endless temptation – for scammers.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

#pluralistic #monopoly #seo #dark seo #google #search #enshittification #platform decay #product reviews #spam #antitrust #trustbusting

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flemingsfreckles · 5 months ago

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Replacement Part 3

Read the other parts here

Warnings: PLEASE TAKE THESE SERIOUSLY homophobia, parental abuse (emotional, mental, and physical), internalized homophobia, language

WC: 3.5k

A/N: alright so this sorta took and added extra turn to it, on top of the enemies to lovers, we’re now going to be working through some internalized homophobia stuff too,

“Ladies, this weekend, after training Thursday I want you all to go do something for team bonding, goalkeepers together, midfielders together, defenders, you all get the idea, try to make small groups, 3-4 players and pick an activity. We want you to get comfortable with the people who will be your support system on the field, we’ll do more full team bonding later. Starting small.” You usually didn’t mind team bonding, it was always a fun time, getting to hang out with your friends.

“You’re coming in my group!” Coffey grabs the back of your training top as you both walk away from the huddle.

“Yeah, cool.” You were more than happy to let someone else organize the groups and the plans, that was never really your forte.

“Me, you, Hina, and then Fleming too.” You give Sam a look that must’ve expressed your frustration with her adding Jessie. “You can handle an afternoon with her, you need to remember your teammates.” You bite your tongue before anything rude comes out of your mouth, you were doing your best to keep it civil with Jessie, Sam was right, she was your teammate at the end of the day.

You and Jessie hadn’t spoken since you lashed out at her on the field, but that didn’t mean the girl had given up on being your friend. The Monday back after game day you had walked in early to a mostly empty locker room, a few teammates here and there. You noticed Jessie’s bag already in her cubby, her clothes already changed. You then noticed the muffin sitting on the top shelf of your cubby. You had rolled your eyes at the sight of it, knowing who brought it. When she came back into the room and you muttered a quiet thank you to her, she gave you a tight lipped smile and a small nod before turning her attention away from you again. The two of you remained in silence for the next week, not exchanging compliments or critiques. You only spoke when necessary for drills or in training. Jessie stopped her typical pleasantries to you when she’d arrive to training every day, instead a small hello with no follow up was how she greeted you.

Thursday comes unfortunately fast for you. You really didn’t have a huge desire to do things after training normally and now you had to do something with Jessie.

Sam made you and Hina send her your favorite parts of the city, you were responsible for picking a coffee shop, Hina picked lunch, and Sam was responsible for dinner. She had said today would be a good day to give Jessie a less formal, more fun tour of Portland.

You all met up at the coffee shop you had picked. Jessie showed up smiling, camera slung across her chest. She had on a hat, her hair was down, she was wearing a simple white shirt and black pants. You find yourself admiring her, simple and yet somehow good looking, clothing choice before quickly shaking the feeling off. Much to your surprise she immediately came over to you asking about the coffee shop what was good, asking how you found it, how long you’d been going to it. It was if she had forgotten the scuffle between you and the fact that you both had been avoiding each other all week. You however, hadn’t forgotten, so you gave her short answers, letting her know anything was good, you hadn’t had a bad coffee yet, but pretty much ignored all her other questions.

“Hey, can we talk really quick?” Jessie poked you in the shoulder as the two of you stood, coffee in hand, waiting for Sam and Hina who had both ordered sandwiches with their coffee.

“Sure.” You weren’t in the mood to talk but you were going to have to with it just being the four of you.

“I don’t know what the issue is or was between us, can we pretend it doesn’t exist, I don’t know, at least for today? I don’t want them to feel uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, it’s fine, I just was having a bad day that day, sorry, I didn’t mean for it to carry over this whole time.” You half ass apologize, all while lying to her face. You hadn’t just been having a bad day, she was the cause of all your bad days so far. If you hadn’t meant for it to carry over all week you would’ve apologized days ago. But to keep the day going smooth, you made up the story, to make her feel better, to help you both move on.

Once you’d all grabbed coffee you walked around, Sam had named herself the tour guide and proceeded to walk you all over town to see various things. She would point out stores she liked, the best place for pizza, all hoping to give Jessie a better lay of the land. Jessie seemed to enjoy herself, you watched her look around in awe at the city you’ve come to call home. She had such a sense of wonder to her, looking at all the buildings, stopping to read the plaques with historical information. She also was constantly stopping for a step or two to take a photo. On a few occasions you caught her taking photos of the three of you walking.

When you look at her and she realized you’ve caught her she smiles. “Sorry, I just like capturing what going on around me, the people around me. I can delete them if you don’t want to be in photos.”

“Oh, no that’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“Cool,” Jessie gives you a smile before pointing ahead where Sam and Hina were standing up the street, both turned back waiting for you. “We should probably catch up.”

“Right.” You head up to where the other girls were, you couldn’t help but wonder about the photos Jessie took, you wanted to see them, but you didn’t want to ask.

Sam had stopped with Hina in front of a bar. “My first date in Portland was here, cute place, terrible date!” Turns out it was a popular first date street as Hina points out the first date she went to in Portland was just across the street.

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see where Fleming gets dragged to on her first date in the city. Where was your first date in Portland?” Sam turns her attention to you. You should’ve changed the subject before she had the chance to ask you.

“Um.” Nowhere is the correct answer, you hadn’t dated, you had no interest in dating the men in Portland or anywhere, so you didn’t. You kept to yourself, you were also still learning life after college, life in a new city, you had every excuse not to try dating. “I haven’t been on an official date since moving here, just too busy with moving, new city, training, all those things.”

Sam gives you a strange look, you’re not sure why, she knew you hadn’t been on dates. The two of you talked about her love life all the time, you figured she knew you hadn’t seen anyone.

“Yeah I wouldn’t expect any date stories from me anytime soon, I’m probably going to make sure I get settled first before I try seeing anyone, plus dating is exhausting.” Jessie quickly speaks up, you’re not sure if it’s intentional but it takes away from the awkward realization that in the year and a half you’ve lived in Portland you’ve never been on a date. Sam and Jessie fall into a debate over if dating is fun or exhausting and you’re happy to slip back into your own thoughts, not having to think about dating, relationships, or anything of the matter.

The day wasn’t nearly as bad as you had thought it was going to be. It was different, not being in a competitive environment had you looking at Jessie differently. She even made you laugh at lunch a few times. She was wittier than you expected for how quiet she tended to be. As you toured around you constantly found her walking next to you, letting Sam and Hina walk together. She’d point things out to you that she found pretty. When she’d stop to take a photo, you’d find yourself waiting for her while the other two walked on. It was weird, you felt less hostile towards the girl.

Jessie had stopped again, pointing out across the way to a bridge. You looked at the bridge and then watched Jessie take a couple of steps, bending down and then standing back up, trying to figure out where to take a photo from. She was calculated about it, just as she was with playing. For a minute you watch as she brings her camera to her eye before snapping a photo. You watch as she looks down at the screen with a smile, proud of whatever photo she took and for a split second you’re filled with a feeling of warmth, a small tingle in your stomach, stronger than the feeling you would get when she’d hand you a coffee or when you’d see the muffin she’d brought you. You physically shake off the feeling, you weren’t feeling that for anyone, especially not a girl, and especially not Jessie. You hated her.

The rest of the afternoon goes by, you don’t participate much in conversation, at dinner, letting the other three carry on. You’re too focused on that single moment, the moment you forgot you hated her and instead you felt something else. You felt a feeling you hadn’t had in years, a feeling you couldn’t have, you had promised yourself that.

No boys would get in your way of your career, no relationship would be manageable, your parents made sure of that from a young age. There would be no distractions, you didn’t have the time for a boyfriend, husband, anything it wasn’t an option, never had been. You had always been focused on school or training, never enough hours in the day for anything besides those two. Your parents pushed you to what felt like every minute of every single day, even as a kid. Doing extra school, extra weight training, extra running. You hardly had friends, having only one or two good friends your whole childhood outside of your teammates, you had no other hobbies, you played soccer and went to school. There was no time for a boyfriend.

A girlfriend certainly wasn’t an option, not even a thought, but that wasn’t a problem, you weren’t gay. You had been subtly taught your whole life that men date women and women date men, those were the options, anything else was unacceptable. You had been called gay, lesbian, and a variety of slurs, kids would tease you when you were younger, you preferred sports, you dressed in shorts and basic t shirts, you weren’t a girly girl, so you were teased, assumed to be gay. Then in high school people made fun of your close relationship with your former best friend, Grace, claiming the two of you must be dating. Those rumors made their way around until almost everyone was asking if you were with her, but you weren’t gay. You weren’t and you couldn’t be, your parents made sure you knew that.

They had temporarily kicked you out of the house when you were 16 after finding what they called “love notes” between you and your best friend. They kicked you out only after ripping apart your bedroom while you were at school, searching for evidence that you were seeing Grace. They didn’t find anything beyond the letters. You hadn’t even viewed them as love notes, just letters you had written to her and she had written to you. They were notes mentioning your appreciation for her and her friendship, telling her how much you enjoyed your time together, how she made you feel safe. There were mentions of “I love you” but purely platonic, nothing romantic in your eyes. Your parents didn’t see it that way and you could still feel the sting on your cheek from your mother’s hand that she had laid on you as you tried to pack and leave all while you argued there was nothing romantic with Grace.

Nothing romantic, until when you showed up at her family’s house crying, unable to get the words out to explain what was happening and she had taken you in. Once you finally calmed down and had explained what was going on she held you tight, her arms wrapped safely around you. She held you and rubbed your back. Grace simply let you exist in her presence, no expectations, no explanations. You didn’t tell her why your cheek was bright red, but you think she figured it out herself. When you pulled back from her grasp she reached to wipe your tears, the way you flinched away told Grace everything she needed to know about the marking on your cheek. She waited before slowly bringing her thumbs up to wipe your tears before holding your face and staring at you with such intensity it made your stomach turn. She told you she loved you, to this day you weren’t sure if she’d meant it romantically or not, and before you could register your own actions you had moved in and kissed her. She kissed you back for a moment before you both pulled away, never mentioning it again. The two of you never got the chance to discuss or even acknowledge the kiss you shared.

Your parents had dragged you back into their house the next day later after learning you had gone to Grace’s house. They welcomed you back into their home only to force you to sit through hateful speeches and lectures about how you’re made to be a wife to a man and how it was disgusting to find another girl pretty. They told you you’d marry a boy and have plenty of his children, you’d raise them while he worked, you would be loyal to him, of service to him, the lectures went on and on, day after day. You we’re grateful though, they kept their hands off of you for the most of the time, instead subjecting you to emotional and mental abuse.

They no longer let you speak and see Grace. Out of fear and a new deep guilt for what had happened between the two of you, you didn’t attempt to reach out. Your parents didn’t know you kissed but you felt like they did, like they knew everything between the two of you. The two of you fell out of touch quickly, you hadn’t seen her since the night you kissed.

Your parents kept you on a strict schedule, baring all communication with anyone who wasn’t a teammate, coach, or school teacher. They made you dress more feminine, they limited what music you listened to, what movies and television you watched, essentially controlling every aspect of your young adult life. They even set you up on dates with boys whose parents they knew, explaining to you that one of them could be your husband. All those dates ended in gross, overly sloppy kisses on your parents doorstep that had you running to the bathroom for mouthwash. It was a miserable few years of your life, ones you prefer to pretend never existed.

When you received a full scholarship for soccer you left for school and never looked back. It wasn’t easy to cut off communication completely with your family, they knew where you were, where your games were held, where to find you, but after your freshman year, they stopped showing up unexpectedly and you finally found a sliver of peace. Despite no longer being in communication with them, those few years still weighed heavily on you. You still flinched slightly if someone made a quick movement toward your face, it had been noticed by Sam and Janine, both asking if you were okay, you lied of course stating it was nothing. Your parent’s words haunted you even more, continuing to impact the way you felt, acted, and existed on a daily basis.

So that’s how you knew to handle your feelings, write them off as something else. The reason you had kissed Grace was because you were too overwhelmed with the thought of being kicked out by your family, you didn’t love her, it was just irrational behavior. The feeling you just experienced towards Jessie wasn’t anything other than displaced emotions. You were just too overwhelmed with your dislike of her, it was starting to show up in different ways. The same displaced emotions that you had felt toward Grace, and again toward your college teammate a few years ago, and now towards Jessie. But you weren’t gay. It was just confusion, too much going on in your head.

“Hello?” You suddenly snap back into the conversation being held in front of you, Hina waving her hand in front of your face.

“Huh?” You had no idea how long you had been zoned out for, reliving the harsh moments of your teenage years. You were just hoping your face didn’t give away to the group that you were remembering some of your worst days.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yeah sorry, just sort of zoned out I guess.” You don't miss the way Jessie sends you a concerned look across the table.

“We’re talking about Saturday's game, how do you think it’s going to go? Are you going to get your first goal of the season?” You know it’s casual conversation but you had no desire to talk about playing

“I’m sure it’ll be good.” Is all you say before putting a bite of pizza into your mouth.

“I’d put money on you scoring.” Hina says before she takes a bite from her own slice.

“That’s if I even play.” You mumble and a silence falls across the table, a blanket of uncomfortable tension falling between the four of you. “Sorry.” You mumble this time with the intention of the others hearing you. You notice the apologetic glance Jessie sends you across the table before you turn your attention back to your plate. The silence until everyone finishes eating, everyone using bites of food to avoid being the one to break the silence.

After dinner Sam and Hina both take off in the direction of their places, opposite of where you lived, leaving you to walk alone with Jessie.

She doesn’t say much on the walk, you’re not sure if she knew, if she knew you had resentment toward her, that deep down you hated her, that you wished she’d go back to Chelsea, leave to somewhere else. Or maybe she just felt the tension at dinner and didn’t know she was the problem.

“How much further is your place?” She asks when she stop walking in front of her own building.

“Just right there.” You point a couple blocks up to your apartment building.

“Do you want me to walk with you?” She offers, it was dark out, she probably just meant it out of kindness.

“I’ve been here longer than you, I don’t need an escort to my own place.” It wasn’t more than a 3 minute walk away, you didn’t need her help walking there.

“Right, sorry, just let me know you get in safe?”

“You’re not my parents Jessie, I don’t need to be watched, I’ll be fine.”

“I know I’m not, but sure like your parents I’d just like to know you made it home safe. I always ask my friends to let me know, I asked Hina and Sam to text me too!”

“Yeah, news flash, we’re not friends, you know nothing about my parents.” You spit out before turning quickly and walking in the direction of your place. You don’t look back, you’re not sure if Jessie went inside or watched you walk all the way. When you’re inside you don’t text her, part of you feels guilty for not, she was looking out for you, but you put your phone on the kitchen table and head straight into bed.

You were emotionally exhausted from the day, first with training, then with spending the afternoon chatting and socializing, and finally with the internal fight over what you were feeling for Jessie and what you had been told your whole life and on top of knowing she was your replacement, you can’t feel anything but hatred for her. When you lay your head down on your pillow you felt a tear run from the eye across the bridge of your nose and drop onto the pillow.

You felt scared and uneasy, having no idea how to process your emotions and having no one to turn to. So you laid in bed, awake staring at the ceiling in a pit of uncertainty, feeling so unsure of yourself, as a player and even more so as a person.

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #jessie fleming blurb

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jogetsobsessed · 2 months ago

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Dominos (Part 2 of The Prophecy) - Paul Lahote x reader

Could technically be read as a stand-alone!

I'm so sorry for the long wait for this, I simply could not figure out what I wanted to do. Also, the two OC characters are simply random and are just there as space fillers (but I did choose the name Evan from 911 #wewillgetbuddie). P.S. This has a lot of dialogue and I don't know how to properly write dialogue so oopsie.

My present to all of you for hitting 200 followers!!

Always enjoy, I hope this lived up to all your expectations!

----------------

It hurt for a long time.

It felt like you were drowning and that you were never going to be able to surface. Life was moving in slow motion, as you grappled with the sudden change in your life.

You lost everything.

Everything important to you was gone. Your friends, your support system, the man who you loved. People tried to reach out at first. Emily and Kim called you every day for weeks, but after a while, the calls stopped coming. Embry and Quil both texted you, checking to see how you were doing and if they could help anyway, but like the calls you ignored the texts.

You felt pathetic.

They all felt bad for you and you know it. They knew how in love you were with Paul and they were all witnesses to the tragic ending. And you hated it.

Hated how people would look at you. You felt that you couldn't go anywhere without someone looking at you with sympathy in their eyes. And you could only take that for so long.

So after months of hiding in your bedroom and wallowing in your despair, you decided to make a change. You were going to do something for yourself. Something that was going to be hard, one of the hardest decisions you had ever had to make.

You found an apartment 250 miles away. Growing up you had made the almost five-hour car ride to Portland, Oregon a couple times a year, so you knew that you liked the city well enough. It was a massive change, going from small-town living to city life. But it's what you need. Being somewhere where no one knew you, where no one knew about the unnatural life that the people of the tribe lived. It was your chance to live a normal life.

--------------

Normal life suited you well.

The move had been hard at first, you left behind your parents and the few friends outside of the pack that had still been in contact with. It took a while for you to start feeling like yourself again. But that's because you didn't know who you were without Paul. Moving to Portland was a chance for you to find who you were.

Six months after you moved you experienced your very own meet cute.

It happened at work, you had blindly reached out to hit the button for the elevator when your hand met someone else's. Quickly your phone was away from your face and you looked up and swore you almost swooned.

His name was Evan.

The company he worked for had just opened up a Portland office and was renting space on the third floor. You told him you worked on the seventeenth floor when he had asked and watched the number seventeen light up. Immediately he started a conversation. It was small talk, you told him that you also had not been in Portland long and chose the simple way out by saying that a long-term relationship ended so you wanted a fresh start.

It hadn't occurred to you that he never got off on the third floor.

He rode up to the seventeenth floor just to talk to you. And once the elevator stopped and the doors started to open he asked you out. He insisted that he needed a tour guide to find the best ramen that Portland had to offer.

-----------------

5 years later

----------------

“And after that the rest is history”, you laughed as you felt Evans's arm slightly squeeze your waist in affection.

You wouldn't believe where you were, back home in Forks. You had managed to avoid it since you left because your parents moved down to just outside of Portland after they realized that your move was permanent.

Your engagement to Evan had come just over a year after you met him. After swearing up and down that after Paul you were never going to let yourself love someone again you found yourself drowning in the love that you had for Evan. And when he got down on one knee you didn't even let him finish what he was saying before you were throwing yourself in his arms shouting ‘yes’.

But your parents hadn't moved down until you Facetimed them a year after your wedding holding up ultrasound photos. They screamed and cried tears of joy, they were going to get to be grandparents. You hadn't told them everything that had happened with Paul but they knew enough. They knew that he had broken your heart and now saw how your husband was putting it back together piece by piece. They saw how happy you were.

And you are happy.

You were getting everything that you wanted, everything that he had promised you.

Marriage, a big house with a white picket fence, and children.

That’s why when you received an invite to Emily and Sam’s wedding you gladly accepted. There was no reason for you not to go, you learned a long time ago that letting the thought of Paul control your life was no way to live. If after all these years Emily still sent you an invite obviously she wanted you here.

So here you were, standing with Jared, Kim, Embry, and his imprint Ava. Kim had just about burst into tears when she saw you sitting with Evan and your son in the back of the ceremony. She was standing beside Emily at the altar and you could have sworn she almost ran back down the aisle to scoop you in her arms. And that's what she did as soon as Sam and Emily were announced as Mr and Mrs Uley.

There was so much catching up to do, that was evident. Five years of not talking to one of your best friends, especially at the stage of life all of you were in. You could see it in all of their eyes when you introduced Evan to them that they approved, it was almost a look of relief like they were glad that you had been able to move on after everything that had happened. You had both apologized for not inviting each other to your weddings but that could be forgiven. Especially when you both realize that you had young sons. Her and Jared’s son is three and your son is almost two.

The two of them quickly got along and were off playing in the designated kid's area of the field where the reception was being held. You were having so much fun laughing with old friends and introducing your husband to everyone that you almost didn't catch the moment she walked by.

Rachel Black had her arm hooked through the extended arm of some man, one that you recognized but didn't know quite where from. All you knew was that it wasn't him.

Embry was the first to clock your glance. He followed your gaze and quickly noticed who you were looking at.

“Who the hell is that?”

You had cut Jared off in the middle of his story about getting thrown out of the Mariners game and saw his eyes bug out of his head when he followed your gaze. She moved carefree throughout the wedding, stopping to say hi to people here and there as she and her mystery man made their way to a table near where her father was talking to Chief Swan.

“Her fiance”, Kim mumbled over the rim of her champagne glass.

“What!”, you were definitely louder than you had meant to be, guests nearby turning to look at you and your friends. Sheepishly you gaze at them all, a smile wincing at the sudden onset of attention.

“It’s a long story Y/N”, Embry said pleadingly. He did not want to get into this right now, you know he didn't. However, there is absolutely no way for you to let this go.

The woman who had unintentionally wrecked your relationship was now hanging off the arm of another man. And now you were wondering if that's why you hadn't seen the said man at all tonight. As far as you know he’s still one of Sam’s best friends, not that you cared to double-check.

One look from you Embry’s way was enough for him to huff and motion to an empty table a little further away from the impromptu dance floor. Pulling your husband behind you, you marched your way over plopping down on one of the empty chairs.

“I’m gonna go check on our boy”, Evan said, emphasizing the word as he kissed the top of your head and started to cross the field. You knew what he was doing, he was making everything easier. You were sure that your old friends had assumed that you had let Evan in on the pack's secret (which you had after you had gotten engaged). But you figured that he thought they would want to talk as freely if he was around. That's why you love him so much, he knew how to read a room and understood the special circumstances surrounding your past relationship and the baggage that followed you because of it.

After everyone else had made it back to the table, barring Ava who had gotten swept into a conversation with Leah and her mom, you shot them all looking waiting to see who was going to start.

“They got married…six months after you moved”

This information was shocking, I mean Paul had always been one to move fast, but six months?

“And everything was okay for a while. They seemed like they were really in love”, you flinched at Jared's words and Kim, noticing your actions, slapped her husband's chest with the back of her hand, rolling her eyes at his carelessness. Jared however wasn't phased and kept going.

“And then the fighting started. It was small things at first, we would see them bicker when walking up the steps at Em’s, or when Paul phased we could hear him replaying their argument over what to have for dinner the night before”.

He paused, taking in a deep breath, resting his hand on top of Kim’s where she had it laid on the table in front of her. Lucky for him Embry decided to take pity on his brother and cut in.

“Y/N things got bad. Paul and Rachel both have very strong ummm…personalities”. He chuckled nervously as he bit his lip. You knew this made him uncomfortable and part of you felt bad for making him tell you all of this but you needed to know. You needed to know for the sake of knowing, it's not like anything in your life was gonna change because of it. Happiness had finally found you, and part of you felt bad that Paul’s had only been temporary, even though he had shamed your heart.

“The small fights turned into screaming matches, and they weren't always private. And umm at some point the screaming escalated to the two of them breaking things. Rachel would throw glasses and beer bottles and such and Paul broke one too many kitchen chairs for them to keep replacing them”.

“Eventually we had to step in, I mean the boys had to physically step in Y/N”, Kim cut in, the look in her eyes telling you that she was reliving the drama. “Sam, Jared, and Embry let themselves into Paul and Rachel's place one day when he was home and she wasn't and they had to drag him kicking and screaming out of there practically”.

“It's not like he was abusive, it 's just that they are both so damn toxic”. Jared chuckled as he struggled to describe what it was like watching their relationship from start to finish.

The three of them filled you in on specific instances of when the crazy started to show, while also reiterating how sorry they felt for how they handled everything that night years ago.

“So where is he now?”, you blurted out. The wine finally made your head feel a little fuzzy and your filter started to thin. This question caught them off guard, the three of them exchanging awkward glances back and forth.

“I don't know, none of us do. He was supposed to be here but since last night it's been radio silence. No one has heard a word from him”, Embry said.

----------

You felt like you were being watched.

After finishing your conversation with your friends the four of you walked over to where the kids were running around. Evan and Ava had been making small talk as they gave the four of you space.

And now as you watched your friends interact with your son and husband you were trying to have a good time and appreciate the moment.

But you couldn't, because someone was watching your every movement.

You tried to brush it off, but the longer the night went on you could still sense it. Trying your best to act nonchalant you looked at the outskirts of the field and just beyond the tree line. You didn't want to worry anyone, especially your husband. Evan was having such a good time, he and the boys got along well and you knew that as soon as you got back home he was gonna start bugging you to come back up here.

You were scanning the tree line again when you saw something or someone. And as you squinted to get a better look your heart stopped beating.

Paul.

He was hidden (not very well) in the trees, just past the makeshift dance floor. He looked disheveled, his pants and partially unbuttoned white shirt were wrinkled and slightly dirty, no doubt from spending the entire night stalking from the trees.

He looks different from the last time you saw him, he looks…older maybe? No longer clean-shaven, some scruff was clear even from where you stood. Lines and marks litter his face and his eyes. Oh, his eyes look so tired.

His body stiffened when the two of you made eye contact and he realized that he had been caught. But he didn't skitter away like a scared animal when you excused yourself from your group, promising your husband that this should only take a minute.

---------------

You couldn't believe it, here you were face to face with the man who you swore up and down that if you ever saw again you would kill. But here you were, face to face with him and you couldn't even think of anything to say.

Because the thing is you weren't mad at him anymore.

No, you felt bad for him.

You had everything and he had nothing.

He looked like a scared little boy as he stood before you messing with his fingers, something you remember him doing to try and relax. Gone was the macho-man personality. He looked embarrassed.

“Hi”, his voice was shy, even more unlike him than acting embarrassed.

“What do you want Paul?” he startled at your tone but you didn't care. You weren't going to give him the time of day. This conversation was not between two old friends catching up after now seeing each other for a few years. No, you were having this conversation out of necessity and necessity only.

“I just wanna talk, it's been a while”.

“Yeah I know, last time we talked you dumped me over text and when I went to try and talk to you about it hours later you didn't even look phased. Already cuddled up to your imprint”, you made sure to lace your words with venom, you wanted to make it hurt. Make him relive his actions and decisions.

His nostrils flared at your last word. He hated being reminded of her, of that bond that they still shared. The stupid bond that had ruined his life. The same bond he thought had ruined your life. But seeing you here, walking hand in hand with a man, a small child in your arms he realized he had been wrong.

The only thing that had gotten Paul through all his fights with Rachel and all the time he spent alone after was the thought of you. How after he worked through everything he could get you back. Paul knew how devastated you had been. He had never told anyone but he knew you were there that day at Emily’s. He knew you had started up the porch and decided to put his arm around Rachel, to send you a message.

In some sick way, that thought of you being alone and missing him got him through the darkness. But now he realized that he had been wrong.

You hadn't spent the past five years moping around and waiting for him to confess his love for you. The love for you which almost killed him. He had tried to shove it down, he had been blessed with an imprint, and he should be happy.

But that wasn't the case.

He hated himself for it, dragging Rachel into the mess that was his life. Because she wanted him to love her, she wanted a happy marriage and a long life with Paul. And that's what Paul thought he wanted. The bond did make Paul feel for Rachel, he wanted to protect and keep her safe. He didn't want to see her sad. But those feelings didn't stop his love for you.

You had become the center of their marital problems.

Hundreds of miles away, completely moved on and completely oblivious to the stake that you held in their relationship.

Rachel learned very quickly that she wasn't the only woman Paul loved. And she had tried to live with it for a while. Growing up she had learned how special it was to be an imprint for one of the shifters. It was devastating to realize that she would never get that from Paul.

And after a while of trying to make it work and a little intervention from their friends, they called it quits. She had moved on, meeting someone who truly loved her and could put her first.

Paul however hadn't.

“I’m sorry about that Y/N. I just wanna…”

“You wanna what Paul? I’m not playing these games, it's late and I don't wanna spend the rest of the night arguing with you, because guess what we have nothing to argue about anymore because we are nothing”

“Don't say that Y/N”

“Don't say what Paul said? Don't say that we are nothing, are you crazy? Like generally have you lost your damn mind?”

“Y/N I love you and I know you still have to feel the same, I know how upset you were after we broke up”, his voice cracked as he pleaded with you. And you couldn't help but laugh.

“We didn't break up Paul, you dumped me…over text. Five years ago might I add, and you really must have lost it. I’m fucking married Paul, I have a child with a man that I love, someone who isn't like you, he isn't a coward”.

“No, no don't say Y/N, please”, he was begging now. Full-on begging.

“Paul I have nothing to say to you because I’m not going to say anything that you wanna hear. I don't love you”.

Time seemed to stop at your admission.

The forest seemed to be still, the soft breeze dying down and the rusting of the animal inhabitants went silent. And the light from Paul's very sad eyes seemed to dim even more if that was even possible. He truly had spent all this time that you still loved him and believed that the two of you could happen again.

What happened next was something you could have never predicted, not after knowing Paul for as long as you had.

He dropped to his knees, blubbering like an infant and pleading with you.

“Y/N please, we can make this work I know we can. Just give me one more chance, I still love you”.

He was making a scene. People were starting to notice the distressed man at your feet as he sobbed into his hands pleading with you to come back to him. Luckily Jared noticed the mumbling of some people near him and immediately saw what was happening.

“Shit”, he muttered under his breath as he grabbed a fistful of Embry’s suit jacket to pull him with him as they took off jogging trying to act nonchalant. This was still their friend's wedding and there was no chance they would let Paul and his inability to get a hold of his emotions ruin it.

The rest of the pack spotted the incident and quickly jumped into action. Sam had noticed what was happening and was putting all his trust in his friends to handle it, the last thing he wanted for Emily’s day to be ruined.

“Come on buddy, I think you need to calm down”, Jared told Paul as Jacob helped him pull Paul off the ground. Paul was still breaking down, it was like the floodgates had broken. Every emotion that he had buried for so long was just pouring out of him. It was hard for the pack to watch as one of their own, someone who was normally so stoic and cocky completely broke.

“No, stop, I'm not going anywhere. She’s not listening”, he protested, trying to shove off the various sets of hands trying to control him.

“I think she's listening perfectly fine Paul, I mean come on man, she has a husband. This isn't new news”. Seth said from his spot next to you, his body slightly angled in front of yours, ready to defend if Paul lost control and shifted.

“But I still love her”, he wailed. The boys were shoving him back now, deeper into the forest, for the sake of the wedding but also partially for his dignity.

And that was the last you saw of him, getting half-carried, thrashing around like an angry toddler sobbing as he disappeared into the woods.

Once he was gone you couldn't hold it in anymore. It was your turn to sob.

Even after all the pain and suffering he had put you through you hadn't wanted to hurt him like that. Seeing someone usually so strong shatter and at your words devastated you.

You don't know how long you stood there before Kim darted in front of you and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

It's confusing, you didn't know why you were crying. You had no reason to feel bad after what he had done to you and everything you had said was true, after everything he had done even if you weren't happily married you wouldn't get back with him. However, you felt so guilty, like you had been the one to ruin his life, even though Paul had made his decision.

Paul had been the one to knock down the first domino and start the chain reaction. He had made his bed and now he has to lie in it.

However, while you knew all this to be true you couldn't help but call out to him, you knew he was listening, wherever they had carried him to.

“I’m sorry Paul, I’m so sorry”.

-----------------

blobsblobican (you asked to be tagged in part 2!)

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theheartnexttophan · 21 days ago

Text

Month-in-Rephiew: October 2024

So @danrifics mentioned (x) that October 2024 was one of the greatest months in Phandom history, and I was was thinking about how literally so much happened it was hard to keep up, so here’s a day by day breakdown of the month with all the stuff Dan and Phil did! This isn’t intended to be a proper archive, just a memory refresher (go look at @danandphilupdates or @terribleinfluence-tour to see all the posts archived). I might try to do this each month from now on, as I find it helpful to be able to look back on!

Phil tweet: phone wallpaper

Dan retweet: dropped beads, PJ mentioned Phil’s “all pleasure now”,

LGBTQ+ Public Figures survey + Dan retweet

People Interview Preview, 2 Phil Instastories: Seattle

YourEx Interview

Phil retweet: carrying tabinof in pocket, 5 Dan Instastories: 3 Football game, repost of Last Disco hat from Phil, tour promo graphic, 4 Phil Instastories: 2 Football game, repost of Dan from football game, Dan in Last Disco hat, People Interview, DanAndPhilBEATS: Spooky Week, TIT: Seattle (1st in America)

Joint Insta post (with People Magazine): Interview (+Dan comment), Dan Instastory: People Interview, Phil Instastory: People Interview, Fan pics at Target, TIT: Seattle

OUR BIG GAY PROM NIGHT- Dan and Phil play The Sims 4: Season 2 #16, 2 Dan Instastories: Phortland, International phlesbian day (also a tweet), TIT: Portland

2 Phil Instastories: DanAndPhilBEATS (also tweet), Lowave (also tweet), TIT: Vancouver

Fan pics from airport

DAPG Community post: DanAndPhilBEATS, TIT: Oakland

2 Dan Instastories: Pharamount, iPad (and tweet and DAPG community post)

Dan TikTok: Married Life, (also Instastory), 2 Phil Instastories: 2 DnP Cocktails, TIT: Phoenix

Phil retweet: one second of every post hiatus DAPG vid, Fan pics from San Diego Zoo

Joint Insta post: West coast photodump, 5 Phil Instastories: photodump, plane, sunset Phil pic, DDR, landscape passing while driving 3 Dan Instastories: photodump, Phil in cafe, game at arcade

POPPY PLAYTIME ANIMATION! Dan and Phil (+Phil Instastory about it), 2 Fan pics from in the street, TIT: San Diego,

3 Dan Instastories: elevator doors, theatre picture, Ranboo, Phil Instastory: repost from venue, TIT: Los Angeles

Phanniversary, Phanpocalypse, Phandom Gives Livestream, No but seriously imagine it

Phil tweet: Dan’s reflective trousers (+Dan reply), TIT: Salt Lake City

Gays Against Humanity (+Phil Instastory about it), Phan #1 on Ships list, TIT: Denver

1 Video shoutout, Phil retweet: DAPG anniversary art, Phil Instastory: newlywed game questions

Fan pics at restaurant (from previous night), 3 video shoutouts, TIT: Kansas City

3 Phil Instastories: Puppies, Bucees promo for Austin, repost of puppies art, TIT: Grand Prairie

15th anniversary of Pinof, Take me back to 2009 merch, Our Phanniversary Newlyweds Game, TIT: Austin

1 video shoutout

Dan and Phil in The Backrooms (+Dan Instastory), Phil Instastory: Gay halloween bedsheets, TIT: St. Louis,

Dan and Phil ADOPT A BABY, TIT: Detroit,

Phil reblog of merch inspired pumpkin, Don’t Yap Challenge (IMPOSSIBLE) A Quiet Place: The Game, TIT: Akron

Dan and Phil play Five Nights at Freddy’s: THE JOY OF CREATION, joint Insta post: 2009 merch, 2 Dan Instastories: merch, repost of opposing fringes gravestones, TIT: Indianapolis

1 Phil Instastory: editing video, Halloween Baking- RADIOACTIVE MUG CAKES, Joint Insta post: good omens costumes (also posted on tumblr and twitter), 2 Dan Instastories: good omens post, good omens pic at bar, 3 fan pics from bar

#month-in-rephiew #October 2024 #dan and phil #phan #terrible influence tour #this took me so long omg

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atlabeth · 1 year ago

Text

leave the door open - anthony lockwood

summary: no matter what happens, there's always the light underneath the door. the sign that, when you're ready, he'll let you back in with open arms.

a/n: obviously inspired by leave the door open by silk sonic because i could (and have) listen to it on repeat for hours. this spiraled way out of control but im honestly really happy with it and i hope you all are too!

wc: 8.2k

warning(s): mild angst, arguing, hurt/comfort, mildly serious injury, short scene with a gun/gunshot wound, but the whole first half of the fic is fluff and it is all wrapped up w a fluffy ending

127.

128.

129.

13–

Your focus was broken as police sirens blared past your window, and you let out a long-lasting sigh. This was the fifth time your count had been interrupted, and you weren’t starting over again.

Trying to sleep was a fruitless endeavor at this point, and that wasn’t going to change no matter how many notches in the wall you counted—you might as well accept it.

You’d never been much for sleeping through the night, but your new home boded worse for it all. A new room, a new house, a new city, a new agency. Being in the thick of it all after what felt like so long on your own was overwhelming, and it still felt like it could all fall apart. Being given the job all because you passed a few tests in the living room didn’t exactly feel like security.

You sighed as you slipped on a sweatshirt and walked out of the attic— your room, at least for now— carefully moving down the steps in an effort to not make much noise.

35 Portland Row was filled with warmth, that much was obvious from your short time here, but that warmth had not yet penetrated your skin. It was all too foreign.

You meant to go to the kitchen and make a midnight cup of tea, but your eyes were drawn to a slightly open door, light spilling out in the cracks. The library, if you remembered correctly from Lockwood’s tour.

It must have been George. You didn’t know much about him, but the way Lockwood described him certainly made him seem like the type to be up pouring over books until the early hours of the morning.

It wouldn’t hurt to say hi. Let him know that they’d added another restless soul into their agency.

You pushed the door open a bit more, knocking on the wall as you leaned against the door frame, and your eyebrows rose slightly when the boy looked up.

“Lockwood,” you said, tamping down on your surprise.

He said your name with a slight smile and a bow of his head. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You nodded. “Have you got room for one more?”

“Always,” he said with a gesture at the seat across from him.

You closed the door behind you and took the offered chair, glancing down at the papers in front of him. “What’s got you up?”

“Bills,” he said dryly. “The mortgage, the utilities, our certification, and now—” he looked at you— “another agent on the payroll.”

“I’ll be sure to try and bring in more than you spend on me,” you said, and he smiled as he set his pen down.

“How thoughtful.” Lockwood laced his fingers together before he leveled his gaze fully at you. “And what’s got you up?”

“Just what I said,” you answered with a shrug. “I couldn’t sleep. I haven’t gotten used to this place yet.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t take too long, because you’re going to hit the ground running,” Lockwood said. “We’ve got a meeting tomorrow with a client, and if all goes well we’ll be having tea with a Visitor by noon.”

“Honestly, that would make me feel like I fit in more,” you said. “I’m much better with the ‘nearly dying’ part of this job than the settling in part.”

He cracked a small smile. “I’m hoping we’ll avoid that part, especially with your help.”

Your eyebrows rose. “You’ve got that much faith in me?”

“I assumed you knew the amount of faith I have in you when I hired you,” Lockwood joked. “Your Touch is just what we’ve been missing.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me,” you said. “There’s always uncertainty about freelance agents because we work on our own, but I promise I’ll try my best to merge back into a group.”

“Like I said,” Lockwood’s eyes twinkled, “I’ve got full faith in you.”

You chuckled and nodded, and you tapped the desk before you stood up. “I’ll leave you to your devices. Thank you for the talk, Lockwood.”

“Try and get some sleep,” Lockwood said. “After all, tomorrow is when you prove yourself.”

“Ah,” you said sagely. “Tomorrow will determine whether I have a job or I’m back on the streets.”

“I won’t let that happen,” he said, and he looked wholly genuine. “You’re part of Lockwood & Co now, and we take care of our own.”

You nodded, your lips quirking into a small smile. It had been a long time since someone had so clearly said to you that they would watch out for you— that they saw you as more than just your Touch.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

Lockwood nodded, his expression turning slightly wry. “Besides, the only real reason I think I’d fire you is if you got us all killed.”

“You can’t fire me if we’re all dead.”

“I suppose that means you’re thoroughly employed,” Lockwood said with a smile.

You chuckled. “Good to know.”

“Truly, though, try and get some sleep.” He picked up his pen again, clicking it a few times. “We might be London’s smallest agency, but we take cases the likes of Fittes would handle.”

“As long as you try and get some too,” you said.

Lockwood smiled, but there was a notable absence of a promise. “Goodnight.”

“Are you always in the library?” you asked suddenly. “Because I— I find myself awake a lot at night. It would be nice to know when you’re open to chat and when you just want to be alone.”

He nodded. “I’ll leave the door open for you. Just like tonight.”

You stared at him for a moment more, taking in his slightly ruffled hair, his undone tie and rolled up sleeves. The dark circles under his eyes.

“Perfect,” you responded softly. “Goodnight, Lockwood.”

"Goodnight," he repeated, that same small smile on his lips.

You closed the door behind you.

You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

It was another two weeks until your next sleepless night.

Kept busy with countless cases, you were exhausted near every time you stumbled back through the doors of Portland Row. Part of it was from adjusting back into an agency after being on your own for so long, the other part was the seriously intense jobs that Lockwood kept taking.

And you did adjust, that was true.

You didn’t know if you and George were exactly friends, but he allowed you to help when he cleaned up in the kitchen, and you’d already spent a few afternoons in the archives together—today had been the best, him sharing all the material he found with you and willing to listen to your theories and look at your notes. He was warming up to you, at least.

Lockwood was completely different. He exuded charm, all easy smiles and plying words meant to get someone’s guard down. It was how he operated, how he had to live—everyone underestimated him so he took it upon himself to prove everyone wrong. His name was on the door, after all, as he liked to remind you all.

Maybe that was why he was always up, you thought, because as you slowly moved down the stairs, rubbing grogginess out of your eyes, you noticed that the light was on in the library again. Door slightly cracked open.

You huffed a laugh before you knocked on the frame again, pushing it open to see Lockwood in almost the exact same position as last time. Instead of a variety of papers, though, he was hunched over a map.

He said your name, a small smile already pulling at his lips. “So we meet again.”

“We live in the same house,” you said wryly, “and we work together.”

“All the more reason to be thankful that you put up with me past billing hours,” Lockwood said. You chuckled, and he gestured at the chair across from him. “Take a seat.”

You did, and you tapped your fingers on the table before you took a look at the map. “What’s got you up so late?”

“I’m scouting out a potential job,” he said. “A very old, very haunted mansion owned by a very rich family.”

“I like the sound of that,” you mused.

“So do I.” That spark was in his eye again, and you found yourself watching him as he talked. “The patriarch called me last night, and I met with him and his wife while you and George were at the archives today. He offered the job of clearing his ancestral home, and I told him I would get back to him after I consulted my colleagues.��

“Colleagues,” you hummed. “I like the sound of that too.”

Lockwood chuckled. “I thought after freelancing for so long you would be against working so closely with a team.”

You shrugged. “I needed a change. You lot have been a pretty good one.”

“It’s certainly an honor,” Lockwood said with mock austerity, and you rolled your eyes with a laugh.

“Just get on with it, Lockwood.”

He nodded, and he pushed the map over to you. “I was going to lay it all out for you two tomorrow morning, but since you’re here, I might as well get your opinion on it.”

You took a moment to fully examine it. “Well, it’s certainly very big.” You glanced back up at Lockwood. “How much are they willing to pay?”

He smiled. “Fifty thousand pounds.”

Your eyes about burst out of your head, and you slid the map back over to him. “That’s all I need to hear. I’m in.”

Lockwood laughed and he took it back from you. “You don’t even know anything else about it. You could be walking into a death trap.”

“Every job I did on my own was a possible death trap, and none of them were for fifty thousand pounds,” you said. “I’m in—I don’t care if half of England is haunting that house.”

His smile faded a bit, and he cleared his throat as he looked you in the eye. “You know, you haven't talked much about why you were a freelance agent. Even during the interview.”

Your brows furrowed at the sudden question and you shrugged. “I wanted to be.”

“Everyone knows it’s a lot more dangerous than being in an agency,” Lockwood said. “Ghosts are hard enough to deal with in a group— going on your own is asking for trouble.”

“Before I came in, it was just you and George,” you countered. “You’ve got no supervisors, just the two of you hoping for the best. I’d say that’s asking for trouble.”

“You’re deflecting,” Lockwood said.

You glanced away, finally letting out a sigh as you leaned back in your chair.

“You don’t have to—”

“Because from the moment I discovered my Talent, I’ve heard horror stories from agencies. Entire teams going down on doomed missions, sole survivors left to live with the guilt for the rest of their lives. It happened to one of the teams in my agency, and I knew I wasn’t going to wait for it to happen to me.”

Lockwood’s eyes softened, and he stayed silent as you continued.

“I have no team, I have no roommates—when I’m on my own, no one has to worry about me,” you said quietly. “If something goes wrong, and I die, that’s it. No guilt, no problems, no legal trouble. No mourners.”

Lockwood frowned. “That’s not a very good way to look at it.”

“Never said it was,” you said wryly. “It’s just the way I look at it.”

“Your family would care.”

You shook your head. “They wouldn’t.”

He was silent for a good moment, and then he reached over and took your hand. It was a shock at first, your eyes widening slightly as they darted up to meet his, but he was calm as ever.

“You’ve got us now,” he said. “Lockwood & Co. Me and George. And we’d care very much if you were to die, so I’d appreciate it if you refrained from that.”

That got a watery laugh out of you, and you felt the beginnings of tears behind your eyes for some reason. “I don’t think that was in my contract.”

“It was in the fine print,” Lockwood assured. He looked so much younger when he smiled, like he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“That changes everything then.” Your voice was slightly stilted as you pulled away, and you turned slightly as you wiped at your eyes so he couldn’t see. If Lockwood noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Try and get some sleep,” he murmured. “If George is on board, we’ve got a very long day tomorrow.”

You nodded, clearing your throat as you stood up. “You too. Can’t go into battle without our fearless leader.”

He chuckled and nodded, his eyes never leaving you as you walked to the door. You paused, setting your hand on the frame, and turned around.

“Thank you, Lockwood,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I mean it.”

He smiled, and you found yourself lost in it for a moment. He really was beautiful. “Any time.”

And so your days continued on as a certified member of Lockwood & Co, becoming more integrated by the hour.

It wasn’t much longer before George took to you, and when you found a break in a case that saved you hours of potential digging through the archives, your spot as ‘respected colleague and potential friend’ was cemented.

Lockwood already knew more about you than most, putting him in the ‘weird friend, weird boss’ category. The man literally never slept, and all the information he knew about you was willingly given to him through late night vulnerability. You needed to start forcing yourself to stay in bed, if not solely to keep some secrets between you.

But— yeah, he was nice. Easy to joke around with, easy to work with, easy on the eyes. You’d smiled and laughed more in a single month at Portland Row than you had in three years as a freelance agent. Far better than the lonely studio apartment you holed up in between cases.

The warmth was beginning to penetrate your skin, you thought with a slight smile.

“What in the world are you doing?”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a voice. You looked up from the baking sheet to see Lockwood waiting in the doorway with a small smile.

“Stress baking,” you said with a slight chuckle as you continued scooping dough onto the tray.

“At two in the morning?”

You shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, and extra research wasn’t doing me any good. I had to get the nerves out somehow, and unless I fancied a nice bout with a Visitor, I couldn’t exactly go for a run.”

“So you decided on cookies instead,” he said wryly. “You know, you really should try and get more sleep.”

“Says you.” You finished filling up the tray and you picked it up, glancing at Lockwood as you walked over to the oven. “Every night that I’m up, you’re up too. That’s got to be unhealthy.”

“I’m a busy man,” he responded. “I can’t have half of my employees running around sleep deprived.”

You chuckled. “Good to know you care.”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Always.”

“But you have to care about yourself, too.” You shut the oven and set a timer on your watch, then gestured at the counter where an already finished tray sat. “Try one.”

“Sugar so close to bed?” he joked.

“Oh, please,” you brushed your hand through the air, “we both know you’re not falling asleep any time soon.”

Lockwood cracked a smile as he walked over, picking up a cookie from the sheet. “Chocolate chip?”

“The best,” you confirmed.

He took a bite and he hummed as his eyebrows rose. “Surprisingly good,” he said after he swallowed.

“‘Surprisingly’?” you repeated. “Why can’t they just be normally good?”

“You may have noticed, but George is our resident chef.” Lockwood finished the rest of the cookie, much to your silent delight, and he went to the fridge. “I’m just surprised we’ve got two culinary experts on the team now.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “I’m not anywhere near an expert. I’m much better at baking than cooking, so George has that market cornered.”

Lockwood smiled, and he finished his cup of water. “He’ll be happy to know that. He’d probably love to share some of his recipes with you.”

“I’d love that more,” you said. “His halva the other day was incredible.”

“I’ll let him know. Of course,” his eyes twinkled, “he’d probably be more flattered if you told him yourself. If there’s one thing he’s prouder of than his work in the archives, it’s his work in the kitchen.”

“I’ll be sure to,” you agreed.

“Are you going to sleep anytime soon?” Lockwood asked as usual.

As usual, you rolled your eyes, bit back your smile. “I’ve got two more trays worth of dough. I promise I’ll go after they’re done.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Do you also promise to leave some for us?”

You laughed. “Of course. I didn’t make them just for stress relief, you know.”

“Good,” Lockwood repeated. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. The later morning, rather.”

“You get some sleep too,” you said, pointing your spatula at him, “or else all of these are going to George.”

He placed his fist over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“Good. Now get out of here.”

Lockwood chuckled as he walked out, spurring a smile of your own. You picked up a cookie and took a bite, humming in approval at the taste.

“Normally good,” you murmured to yourself as you watched the oven. “Not surprisingly good.”

(When Lockwood came down the next morning, there were two plates of cookies sitting on the counter. He moved to take one, but then he noticed the Post-its.

One read GEORGE and one read LOCKWOOD, each in front of their own separate plates. There was another at the top—NO STEALING :) or I will never make cookies again

He chuckled, his mind wandering to you as he finally took one—from his plate, of course—and bit into it.

Normally good, he thought with a slight smile.

A fine addition to the team indeed.)

You yawned as you walked down the hallway, rubbing at your groggy eyes. You couldn’t sleep, as was per usual when you were working on such a big case, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

Your mind ran a thousand kilometers a minute any time you even tried to close your eyes. Truly, you had no idea how George functioned with a brain like his.

You were about to go into the kitchen to make yourself your usual midnight cup of tea, hoping it would work its usual magic, when you saw the door to the library cracked open.

You couldn’t help but smile. He’d told you and George to go to bed early to make sure you were all ready for the job the next day, and here he was. Restless as ever and still a liar.

You pushed the door the rest of the way open, blinking a bit at the lights as you leaned against the frame. “Up late again, Lockwood?” you asked, and he started when he turned to you and said your name.

“You should be asleep,” he said.

“So should you.”

“I’m looking over the floorplans one last time,” Lockwood said. “This place is huge, and I want to make sure I know every part of it.”

“We’ve drilled the exits a thousand times,” you said. “We already know the mansion inside out—cramming at midnight isn’t going to help anyone. Actually being rested for once will.”

Lockwood gave you a wry look. “Awfully strong words coming from you.”

“I was going to the kitchen to make some tea,” you defended. “And then I was going to go right back to sleep.”

He smiled as he looked at you, and then he nodded and stood up. “Alright. Come on.”

You raised your eyebrows as Lockwood started walking, and then he took your hand and started pulling you along.

“Oh my god,” you said with a laugh, “I can walk on my own.”

All he said was, “I know,” in that annoyingly cocky tone of his, and you continued following him as you went up the stairs. When he pulled open the door of his room, you

“Neither of us are very good at staying asleep,” Lockwood said wryly, “and I really don’t trust you to get enough in the face of tomorrow. So…”

“You think sleeping in the same bed will help,” you surmised.

He shrugged. “At the very least, I’ll be able to make sure you do fall asleep.”

“Then the same goes for you.”

“Obviously.”

You stared at him for a moment. You didn’t exactly… know what to do.

The words rushed out of his mouth. “Of course if you don’t want to—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “No, it’s alright. I want to.”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Alright.”

You pulled back the covers, clearing your throat as you took your side and Lockwood took his after turning the lamp off. You didn’t know why this was so awkward, sharing a bed with the boy you’d worked with for the past few months, but it was. You’d faced down countless ghosts together, but this was apparently too much.

“Your bed’s comfortable,” you said, desperate to break the silence. You stared at his wall, your back turned to him, Lockwood in the same position.

“Thanks.”

“I don’t know how you’re ever not sleeping through the night with a mattress like this.”

Lockwood chuckled. “Sight isn’t my only talent.”

You smiled. “Very true.”

“Why are you always up?” he asked. “I know my old bed isn’t the most comfortable, but it seems you’re always up.”

“It seems you’re always up.”

“Deflecting,” he said. Your mind flashed back to the first night in the library.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. ��I’ve always been a restless person, but being an agent has just… worsened it. I had a couple of bad months working on my own and I don’t think I’ve fully recovered.”

“Ah.” You could feel his breathing in the slight shifts of the bed, and it was oddly comforting. “I hope that we haven’t made it worse.”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “If anything, you’ve made it better. Portland Row is the embodiment of warmth, and you two are fantastic.”

“Well, we aren’t going anywhere,” Lockwood assured. “...I’m not going anywhere. So if you ever need anything, please tell us.”

Your voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Always.”

Your sleepless nights varied in frequency as the months went on.

Sometimes you were so exhausted when you staggered through the doors of Portland Row that you felt as if you could sleep the night away on the couch. Other times, despite being worked to the bone from a difficult job, you would find yourself staring up at the ceiling of your room, unable to get the visions from the day out of your head.

That was the lovely thing about Touch. The way you saw it, you gave a small part of yourself over each time you used it, and once you got it back, the things you’d seen were embedded in it—in you. It was awfully difficult to separate yourself from your jobs when you threw yourself so fully into it, when you had no other choice but to do so.

Lockwood and George had become accustomed to how deep you felt things. When you needed to be alone after a job, when you needed one of them to talk nonstop to keep you distracted, when you just needed to sit with them in silence and be assured that this too would pass, no matter how slow. That was the nicest thing about being part of the group—you didn’t have to lick your wounds on your own.

When it got really bad—and sometimes it did—you and Lockwood would share his room. His presence was unparalleled in bringing you comfort, and whispered conversations in the dark made you feel some sort of way. He was practically your savior.

When he wasn’t helping you through the night, more often than not, Lockwood would be up at the same hour as you. It was concerning, though you couldn’t say anything about it. He would just throw it back at you, claiming you should be asleep as well. At least George was exempt from the criticism. Bless him.

He found you in a lot of positions. Sitting on the floor of the kitchen scrubbing furiously at the plasm stains on your boots. Sitting on the floor of their living room, one of their case files in your lap as you recounted a previous case. Sitting on the floor of the basement, measuring out salt for bombs and ensuring their flares were stocked. You liked sitting on the floor while you did things, apparently—Lockwood had figured that out after a few weeks of sleepless nights. It was strange.

And of course, the occasional bout of stress baking, ranging from cookies to brownies to pastries and more. You once even baked an entire cake in the middle of the night out of pure anger, the result of a frustrating loss to a Fittes team. Not getting the case hurt a little bit less the next morning when you all had cake to dull the pain.

You found him just as many times. Sometimes getting his own cups of tea in the kitchen, sometimes reading those gossip magazines he was fond of, sometimes doing his own restocks of your supplies. Usually, though, he was just sitting in the library stressed over one thing or another.

You noticed he always tried to hide it from you, covering it with his easy smiles and well-placed jokes. It couldn’t be easy to run an agency as a teenager, no matter how small—you wondered how many restless evenings you would have to share together for him to drop the mask.

Eventually, though, it was decided that another agent was needed. Lockwood and his Sight, you and your Touch, George as an all-arounder—he was your only source for Listening, but it had never been his strong suit. After you nearly got ghost-touched because of that blatant lack of Listening, Lockwood put his foot down and put out an ad.

Enter one Lucy Carlyle: excellent Listener, skilled in Touch, a myriad of opinions. You liked her the moment you met her, her image only sullied by her taking two biscuits. You could hardly blame her though, the way George pushed her. He loved to push.

Due to a lack of rooms but an imminent need for Talent, it was decided that Lucy would room in the attic with you. You were able to get one of the spare beds all the way up to the attic between the four of you, and when you all promptly collapsed on the ground together, it was agreed upon that Lockwood & Company would stick to ghosts. Very good for team bonding, though.

It took Lucy a bit to get used to you, especially in such close quarters, but soon enough you were joking around and talking like you’d known each other for years. You knew she was good, but witnessing her listening was awe-inspiring. You almost couldn’t believe you’d gotten her over Fittes or Atkinson and Armstrong, but you weren’t going to complain. You felt as if your motley crew could do anything.

“I can’t believe he did this,” you seethed.

Well, there were certain things your motley crew did not need to do. Especially your leader.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that,” Lucy said.

“I can’t believe he did this!” you repeated, louder and more annoyed as you threw yourself against the wall. “How stupid can one boy be?”

“He was trying to save you, y’know,” Lucy said dryly.

“I didn’t need to be saved,” you grumbled. “He did it because he’s reckless and stupid.”

“...That’s fair,” Lucy said after a moment. “He is quite reckless.”

“Don’t forget stupid.”

Her lips twitched for a moment. “Perhaps you shouldn’t speak ill of the injured.”

“That’s just the dead,” you muttered. “And we speak plenty of ill of them.”

This was all because of a job that went wrong. And you were certain it wouldn’t have gone wrong if Lockwood could hold himself back for a moment.

“Are you sure that’s him?” you murmured, disguising your words with your cup of sparkling cider.

“Positive,” Lockwood confirmed. “Arthur Torres, one of Sunrise Corporation’s many useless executives.”

“Lovely.” You finished your drink. “I distract and you steal, right?”

“Actually,” Lockwood said, and you didn’t like that at all, “you steal, I distract.”

Your brows furrowed. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“I make the plans,” he said, “I can change them.”

“Not when we spend hours going over them to ensure they’re flawless,” you said tartly.

“Relax.” He smiled at you, and somehow it managed to carve through your irritation. He slipped the keycard out of his pocket and pressed it into your hand. “I’m very good at improvising.”

“Lockw—” You didn’t have the chance to chastise him the way he deserved before he slipped off, a very convenient waiter filling the space he left before you could dart after him. You scoffed as you placed your empty glass on their tray, your eyes narrowed as you glared at Lockwood from beyond.

He paid no attention to you, not until he made the signal. He ‘accidentally’ bumped into Mr. Torres, spilling his wine all over his jacket, and before the first apology could fall from his lips, you were gone.

You muttered curses under your breath the entire way, slipping past guards and security the best you could on the way to the stairwell. You took them two at a time as you hurried to the fourth floor, and though you were completely out of breath by the time you made it, you were pleased that there were no guards. George said he would have the security cameras disabled before you got there, so you just had to trust in him.

You continued to take in and let out deep breaths as you walked up to the door, and they turned into a sigh of relief when you scanned the keycard and it opened. You heard footsteps behind you and whirled around, your hand flying on instinct for the rapier that wasn’t there, and your eyes widened yet again when you saw it was Lockwood.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you hissed.

He held up his hands in defense, as he stopped jogging, and then he brushed out the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “I came to help you.”

“You’re meant to be distracting Mr. Torres,” you said incredulously. “Lockwood, do you even care for the sanctity of plans?”

“I care about your safety,” he said, calm in the face of your anger. “That’s why I’m here.”

“And where is he? Hopefully not in reach of his various guards that could ruin us and our careers at any second.”

“I left him in the washroom,” Lockwood said. “How are you doing?”

You set your jaw, and you sighed as you gestured with your head into the now-open office. “Let’s just find this source so we can get out of here.”

Now came the not-so-legal part, that some may even call theft. Lockwood called it discreetly fixing mistakes, you called it your shoddy morals. Not that you were torn up about stealing from an executive businessman, you just didn’t particularly fancy losing your license over it.

A rich family had hired Lockwood & Co to find and return a source that was important to their family, and of course it was housed by Mr. Torres of the Sunrise Corporation. You’d no idea what it was with wealthy people and their flaunting of sources, but you’d had enough of it. They paid handsomely for the risk though, hence your shoddy morals.

This, honestly, was the easy part. You touched a few things, concentrated until your head hurt, and it led you right to it. Quite disappointing—you didn’t know why the Paladinos would keep a paperweight in the family, and more importantly how it came about to be a source, but that didn’t really matter. It sat on Torres’s desk, surrounded by Sunrise Corporation silver-glass, and just for extra measure Lockwood put it into a metal box of your own. You shoved it into your backpack, and the job was halfway done.

The other half was getting out without being spotted.

The two of you worked quickly to erase all traces of your being there, and soon enough you were hurrying through the halls together.

“That was good work.”

You ignored him.

“The Paladinos’ money will do a lot of good for us.”

You ignored him.

“Seriously. You work well on the fly.”

“We shouldn’t have had to work on the fly,” you finally said bitterly.

“Why are you so mad?” Lockwood asked with a slight laugh. God, his nerve. “It all worked out. We’ve got the source, we’ll get the payment, and we didn’t even have to deal with any Visitors. Torres is still clueless.”

“That’s not the point, Lockwood,” you hissed. You forced your expression back into neutrality as you walked out of the stairwell and back into the midst of the party, and you and Lockwood moved at a normal pace. He offered occasional smiles and nods to people in the crowd, and you both nodded at the guards at the exit when you left.

You couldn’t even relish in your victory, because once you’d gotten out of hearing distance, around the corner where no guards or partygoers could see or hear you, Lockwood stopped you.

“What is the point then?” he asked. “If none of what I said is the point, then what is the point?”

“The point is that you don’t trust me!” you exclaimed.

He immediately frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you even follow me in the first place?” you asked. “It was your decision to switch it up at the last moment, and you couldn’t even follow through with that?”

Lockwood didn’t say anything, and you shook your head.

“You don’t trust me,” you repeated quietly.

He said your name then, a slightly wild look in his eyes as he turned to you. “That’s not it.”

“It is.” A muscle worked in your jaw. “Because if you thought I could do it, you would have let me do it instead of risking both of our lives. You wouldn’t have switched our roles in the first place.”

“Torres was suspicious,” he insisted. “He— he was saying things, talking about how he had to make his guards check on his office. He’s a paranoid man, and you could have been in much more danger if I hadn’t abandoned him.”

“That is bullshit!” you exclaimed. “God, it was your bloody idea in the first place! Is it suddenly not good enough? Am I not good enough?”

“That is not what this is about,” Lockwood snapped.

“Then what is it about?” you marveled. “Why did you switch roles in the first place? You’ve told me I could talk my way out of anything, but when the time comes, you shake things up for no reason. For no reason, Lockwood.”

“People know my face better than they know yours,” Lockwood said. “Torres was more willing to talk with the head of a rising agency, you were able to slip around easier because of who you are.”

“Why didn’t you think of that before we were in the thick of it all?” you asked incredulously, and you laughed. “I’ve saved your life multiple times, Lockwood, and you’ve done the same for me. You talk me up all the time to my face, saying I’m what this agency was missing, that I’m part of your family, that— that you’ll never let me go. But that’s all it is, isn’t it?” A shaky smile formed for just a moment before it broke. “Just talk.”

Lockwood said your name desperately, but you shook your head. “No. Justify it however you want, but you nearly sabotaged the entire job just because you didn’t have enough faith in me. That’s it.”

“I’m telling you, that’s not it.” He let out a ragged sigh, running a distressed hand through his hair, when he suddenly froze.

“Good evening, sir!” he called, confident as ever, like your argument hadn’t just happened. “We’re just—”

His voice broke off mid sentence, and then he yelled your name. You whirled around.

It was a guard, and he was armed. He must have spotted you when you were leaving the office, or maybe George had missed a camera and he’d seen your thievery—there were about a thousand things that could have gone wrong. For a split second, you stared down the barrel of the gun. Funny how you’d stared down what felt like hundreds of ghosts, and a bit of metal was what had you frozen.

The guard pulled the trigger.

Lockwood lunged.

You screamed.

“He’s lucky DEPRAC didn’t find the source in my bag,” you muttered. “They already interrogated me to hell and back while he was in the hospital. Luckily, it usually doesn’t look too good when an adult shoots a teenager and can hardly defend himself against it.”

“The bloke deserved to be fired,” Lucy said. “A paperweight is certainly not worth shooting someone over.”

“And it’s certainly not worth getting shot for,” you added.

“It’s kind of funny,” Lucy said offhandedly. “He’s the one that got shot for you, and yet he’s apologizing to you.”

“Because it’s his fault that he got us in that situation in the first place!” you exclaimed. You winced as your words sunk in, and you looked over at Lucy. “That was too harsh, wasn’t it?”

“...A bit,” she admitted.

You sighed dramatically and hit your head against the side of the wall. “I’m acting like a child.”

“A bit.”

“I just don’t know how he expects me to face him,” you said. “I’ve been working with him for the better part of a year, and somehow he still doesn’t trust me.”

“I… don’t think that’s it,” Lucy said.

“How could it not be it?” you said. “He wouldn’t have acted like he did if he trusted me.”

She shrugged. “Have you thought that it’s because he cares about you?”

“He cares about all of us, Luce.”

“He cares about you more,” she said plainly. “In a different way.”

Your head whipped towards her, and you stared at her for a good five seconds. “You are not saying what I think you’re saying.”

“If you think I’m saying it, it’s for good reason,” she said.

“We are colleagues,” you said slowly. “Nothing less, nothing more.”

Lucy said your name with a slight laugh. “He took a bullet for you.”

“He shuffled our assignments because he didn’t trust me,” you said.

“He shuffled your assignments because he was worried about you,” she countered. “He didn’t want you with Torres because if you were found out, Lockwood didn’t want him to remember your face. And he abandoned his post because he was worried about you, that something would go wrong and he wouldn’t be there to help.”

You stared at her before you continued your pacing. “You’re insane. You’re kicked out of the agency.”

“I’m right,” she said wryly. “And may I remind you again that he took a bloody bullet for you?”

“I’ve already given him that,” you said. “I lost my damn mind when it happened—almost tore the guard apart with my bare hands. I freaked out the entire way to the hospital with him.”

“And now you’re almost completely ignoring him,” Lucy said. “Face it: you like him. You just don’t want to admit it because it would mean having an actual conversation with him about it all rather than pacing a hole in the floor.”

“You’re wrong.” You huffed and leaned back against the wall. “You’re wrong.”

Lucy sighed and she offered a faint smile as she stood up. “You take some time to realize all this. I’m stealing George for an Arif’s run.”

“Leaving us alone,” you said flatly, staring ahead as she walked out. “You’re not clever, Lucy Carlyle!”

“Thank you!” she called with a laugh, and you hit your head against the wall once more when she closed the door behind her.

Sometimes you really hated your friends.

It wasn’t like you were avoiding Lockwood. That would be cruel.

Stupid as he was, he got shot, and he got shot for you. Avoiding him would be ridiculous.

You were just… strategically not talking to him.

And that was arguably worse, yes, letting him see you but not deigning to say a single thing to him that wasn’t business related.

It was even worse than worse because you’d inadvertently proven Lucy right. If this were any normal annoyance between friends, like the squabbles you and George were prone to or the bouts that your boys got into over patience and its virtues, it wouldn’t be this strong.

You’d held grudges against Lockwood before. When he forgot to soak your boots overnight so you had to go into an important job with plasm stains, when he ate the strawberry sprinkled donut just to spite you, when you and George were still in rocky territory and he made you marathon the archives with him for nine hours straight.

All of those, annoying as they were, were forgiven rather quickly. And yes, maybe this grudge was especially strong because of the severity of his injury, but…

You could admit it. Normal people didn’t hold grudges over their best friend throwing themselves in front of them to prevent them from getting shot. Normal people were thankful. Normal people could talk about their feelings when they realized it was the reason for their strife.

You, apparently, were not normal. And neither was anyone in this bloody agency, because nobody deigned to make it any easier for you.

Perhaps it was a bit stupid on your part, but you walked down to the kitchen anyway. You needed some tea to clear your mind. Instead, you were met with a half-shirtless Lockwood.

“Ah,” he said your name, looking up from his spot against the counter, “nice of you to finally grace me with your presence.”

“What are you doing?” you asked. It was almost embarrassing—you were meant to be holding a grudge and ignoring your feelings, and instead you were staring at him like a girl in primary school. Remarkable how quickly you forgot your objectives.

“The doctor said I had to redress my wound every day for the first week,” he said. “Lucy and George just went out, so I figured I would do it now.”

Your brows furrowed. “How do you feel?”

“Better now that you’re here,” he said. Lucy’s words pounded in your ears. “I don’t think you avoiding me is good for my health.”

You bit your lip and remained silent. Rocky territory, this was.

“It’s alright if you just want to stand there.” Lockwood grimaced a bit as he pressed the alcohol-soaked pad to his wound. “Moral support is very helpful.”

Remarkable how quickly the dam broke. You sighed and closed the distance, holding out your hand when you stopped a few meters in front of him. “Give it to me.”

Lockwood’s eyebrows rose.

“Give it to me,” you repeated. “I’ve dealt with many of my own wounds over the years. It’ll be a lot faster if I do it for you.”

His lips quirked into a slight smile as he handed the cloth over. “This is better than moral support.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You couldn’t help the small smile of your own as you started to dab at the surrounding blood on his chest, innately aware of your proximity but trying your best to ignore it. “This doesn’t look too bad, honestly.”

“I was shot,” he said dryly. “I think I deserve a few style points for that.”

“You’ve already earned them all, Lockwood.”

“That makes sense.” You felt his eyes on you as you continued to work, pointedly ignoring his gaze. “You know, they didn’t take the bullet out. Said it would be worse to take it out, and it’s not causing any problems inside. So I’ve got a bullet in me now.”

Your brows furrowed. “Interesting.”

“Indeed. I’ll be going off in airports for the rest of my life.”

Your fingers hovered over his chest for a moment, and you pulled away with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

It was his turn to frown. “What for?”

“For—” you let out another sigh, rougher this time. “For this.”

“It wasn’t your fault I got shot,” he said. “I quite clearly remember pushing you out of the way.”

“I know,” you said. “I— I am quite sorry that you got shot, though.”

“Obviously,” he said coyly, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I’m sorry for this grudge. It’s probably the stupidest out of all the ones I’ve held against you so far.”

“George keeps a running list,” Lockwood said. “I’m sure we can figure that out.”

“I’m serious.” Your hand lingered on Lockwood’s chest for a moment, his body warmth almost shocking, before you set the cloth down on the counter. You started to put a fresh bandage on, but you finally mustered the strength to look at him. “I was so upset at the thought that you didn’t trust me because your opinion means a lot to me, Lockwood. The way you think of me means a lot to me.” You cleared your throat, averting your eyes for a moment. “You mean a lot to me.”

Lockwood gently tipped your chin back towards him, your eyes meeting his. He really was beautiful—eyes that were softer than ever, his tousled hair, the slope of his jaw. Slightly chapped lips, the bags under his eyes that seemed to be permanent, the weight of the world on his shoulders that seemed to diminish ever so slightly when you were around.

Your Lockwood.

“You mean a lot to me as well,” he said. “Why do you think I reassigned us last minute? Why do you think I took a bullet for you?”

“Because you’re a reckless idiot?”

“Because I panic around you,” he said, “in addition to being a reckless idiot. Whenever we’re on a job, half of my mind is focused on ghosts, and the other half is making sure nothing happens to you. You drive me the best kind of insane.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him. You wanted to kiss him more than anything, to root your hands in that tousled hair and make it an even bigger mess. You wanted to make him realize he didn’t have to worry about you, because you weren’t going anywhere without him.

The words stuck in your throat. You finished applying his bandage, and you took a step away.

“Thank you,” you said.

He didn’t look angry or annoyed or irritated—he understood. He understood you.

“Always.”

And it was as simple as that.

It wasn’t really a surprise you couldn’t sleep that night. You hadn’t exactly talked to Lockwood since your show of emotion in the kitchen, embarrassing as it was. You made Lucy check downstairs before you went down for supper, and that was just so you could make the quickest sandwich of your life and immediately hurry back upstairs.

Pathetic, really. You mustered the strength to tell the boy you liked him, he returned it, you ran off and locked yourself in the attic.

And it wasn’t because it was too much. You just… you didn’t know. You might’ve driven Lockwood insane, but he turned you into a complete idiot. It was ridiculous. And you were not ridiculous.

So when night rolled around, when Lucy and George were sound asleep and the ghost lamps flickered on every three minutes and you had only the owls outside your window for company, you knew what you were going to do.

You threw on your sweatshirt, carefully padded across the floor and out the door so as to not wake Lucy, and you went down the stairs.

Surprisingly, you’d never felt calmer.

The light was on in the library. The door was slightly pushed open, the nondescript act that had turned into a beacon for the two of you.

You knocked on the wall before you pushed the door open some more, not waiting for an answer as you leaned against the doorframe.

Lockwood sat in his armchair, a magazine half open but neglected on his lap. His eyes shined the moment you stepped inside.

“Got room for one more?” you asked softly.

Lockwood’s shoulders relaxed, his throat bobbing for a moment before that damn smile pulled at his lips.

“Always.”

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood & co #x reader #reader insert #sadie writes

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