#This took longer for me to write than i expected

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 2/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

>PART ONE<

Turn me into something tragic, just for you I let it happen.

General Warnings: after the first part you're probably thinking how could there possibly be more snark? you're about to find out. same with idiotic shenanigans, they're not quite finished with those!! fluff, cursing, sexual references, and fade to black type smut!!

A/N: DON'T HATE ME FOR MAKING IT 3 PARTS I'M JUST AN ADHD GIRLY WHO CAN'T READ 30K IN ONE GO BUT APPARENTLY CAN WRITE IT??? part three will be tomorrow I pinky promise!! I was nervous about splitting this whole thing up bc I really did write a whole romcom lmao!! I know long fics aren't to everyone's taste but I know no way of life other than the art of yapping!! Sorry that this took a little longer than expected there were a couple of scenes I couldn't get right but I hope you guys like this half as much as you did the first part!! and again I'd love to hear any thoughts!! reading your messages and your reblogs and your tags made my month and ily a lot!! like I said, I promise part 3 will be tomorrow, I didn't want to force so much at you in comparison to the first part!!

“I’m bored.”

Luke hadn’t thought he would regret staying at home when he had told Jack he wasn’t feeling well enough to drive out to Detroit for the Zach Bryan concert - if anything, it was an effort to push him and Ellie a little closer. She took Luke’s place, roomed with Jack in their hotel and everything, and they seemed to be having the time of their lives in all the videos dispersed into the group chat. But that was all before he came downstairs, eyes on the pictures of the all-you-can-eat breakfast the group were partaking in before coming back, and opening the kitchen cupboards to see them bare, with a few protein bars and boxes of granola tossed in like they’d been ransacked for the apocalypse. 

He’d had fun last night, though.

Even after the movie had ended, when the two of you had stayed up on the couch, talking about life - about hockey, about school, about his brothers, about your mom - if he’s honest, it had been the closest he had felt to another person that wasn’t one of his brothers in a really long time.

He really felt like you were connecting.

So much so that he’d retired to his bed for the first time all summer with a big, dopey grin on his face. Had laid awake scrolling through astrological compatibility after the two of you had drifted onto that topic after the movie finished, talking for maybe two hours before you had yawned so big he thought you might swallow him whole.

He had thought he knew you, before.

Had thought that those brief observations made from back in college, about your coffee preferences, your perfume collection, your taste in music, had painted a somewhat blurry picture of who you were - of all the things that blended together to formulate you - but he had been so wrong. 

And he had laid in bed last night thinking much deeper about the girl who was laying only a couple rooms down the hall - a few walls away. 

The girl who had come downstairs, bare feet padding softly into the kitchen, and had poured out two glasses of juice and handed one over to him without even asking. 

“Hi Bored, I’m Luke,” he smiles as he accepts the drink from your hand, the expression deepening as you roll your eyes back at him, this time with a glimmer of fondness slipping through the surface of your facade. 

You reach past him into the cupboard for the box of granola, and he grabs one of the protein bars before closing it, your bodies moving around each other in tandem like a well choreographed routine - easy and effortless in a way that calms whatever nerves he might have had around this new development in your relationship being one-sided.

You had never seemed uncomfortable in the house, or around the rest of the guys, but you had never been like this. 

“I was thinking,” you drag out, voice sweet and alluring, like you even have to put it on to convince Luke of anything, “we could go out on the boat,” you glance back at him as you pour out your cereal, lashes fluttering to complete the act, “You have your license right?”

“Yeah,” he replies, settling himself down to lean at the kitchen island as you cross to the other side, taking one of the stools, “But I’m not really supposed to take it out on my own.”

You hum as if you’re thinking, crunching your food before asking, “Is that brotherly advice or is that the law?”

“Advice, I guess,” he shrugs, pushing forward ever so slightly onto his forearms, where he can feel the tense of his muscles, and can see the diversion of your attention. 

“And you always do what your brothers tell you?”

When you tilt your head, the sun shining through the kitchen window reflects on your irises, making them sparkle, and he can see all the different hues in there, as if you’re using the elements to try hypnotise him into compliance.

You’re so pretty, you don’t even need the special effects.

“I’m a good boy,” he smiles teasingly, with a tilt of his own head, driven by infatuation and admiration, keeping your gaze and trying not to shudder visibly when your eyes drop to his lips. 

“You wouldn’t be on your own, though,” you pout, “I’d be there. I was a lifeguard for the past three summers, you know.” Of course he knows. “I promise I’ll save you if you get thrown overboard.”

You don’t have to say the following sentiment that the two of you share - that if he were to be thrown overboard, it would undoubtedly be by your own hand. 

“Yeah, you’d give me mouth to mouth?”

You scoff, leaning down onto your forearms and mirroring his position, careful not to knock your bowl. “Unfortunately for you, Hughes, they don’t advise the use of that method, anymore.”

“And you always do what people tell you?”

It’s one of his favourite things to do with you, he’s noticed - turn the tables, use your own wit against you. It gets him a reaction, every time. A rush of something real that washes over you, has you fixing your shoulders and biting back a smile. 

Although you don’t bite this one back. Luke doesn’t think that you could, even if you tried. Your eyes even crinkle a little in the corners, and Luke doesn’t see the danger in it - too lost in the way they reflect the glorious sunshine back at him in dazzling sparkles - until one drops in a wink as you retort, “I’m a good girl.”

Touché.

He thinks his heart might have skipped a beat. He can all of a sudden feel every last crumb of the previous bite he took from his protein bar lodged in his throat, and he needs a drink, so he pushes himself up from the counter to try at least gain a height advantage over you, and forces down some gulps of his juice.

The look you’re giving him isn’t doing him any favours - the height difference working against him as your eyes look up to meet his, round and pleading despite the cunning genius he knows is buried within them. 

“Fine,” he huffs, rolling his eyes as your smile grows wider, “But we need to be back before my brothers so I don’t get a lecture.”

“Yes!” You squeal, pushing up from the stool, “I knew you weren’t as boring as you seem!”

He frowns, despite knowing you’re just teasing him for this exact reaction, and watches as you clean up your bowl, discarding of the mushy granola and rinsing it out. 

“I just need ten minutes to get ready and then we can go!”

“You have five.” He grumbles, watching as you rush out the room and listening for the stomp of your feet up the stairs. 

He’s probably going to regret this. 

—

The bikini had been your first strike - baby blue, the type that ties with strings around your neck and back - when you had come down the stairs, the slap of your slides echoing against the wood and diverting his attention from his phone to your emerging figure. Your t-shirt was clutched in your hand, your tote bag in the other, and he had just stood there, mouth agape, until you rolled your eyes and stormed straight past him, calling, “Thought we were on a time crunch, come on,” behind you.

Your second strike had been the way you had waited until you were on the boat to apply your sunscreen, sat next to Luke, who was trying to keep a steady hand on the wheel as he drove his way down to a clear spot further out on the lake. Luke who was biting his tongue from offering to help you, and could smell the sweet melon scent of the lotion as it sank into your skin. 

And the third had been the way you had been smiling down at your phone, distracting him with the pretty curve of your lips as he steered over the water. 

Three such minor infractions already had him regretting the decision to bring you out here alone.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” He asks, trying not to sound as jealous as he feels at the thought of it being another guy.

“It’s Cole,” you tell him, eyes still on your phone.

“You and Cole text?” The boat jolts slightly as his hands tremble, and he diverts his attention to you.

“No, he’s got Ellie’s phone.” You type something back before turning the device to show him a selfie Cole had taken in the hotel lobby, Jack asleep on one of the benches in the background and Ellie posing in front of his sleeping figure.

“Why’s Cole texting from Ellie’s phone?” Luke asks, eyes back on the water as he steers the boat, long fingers curled around the wheel and muscles flexing. 

“They’ve been hanging out,” you tell him, “They were together when we got back from the club the other night, he was in our room.”

“And you’re only just telling me this now, because?”

“Oh, my bad, control freak, didn’t realise you needed the whereabouts of everybody in the house,”

“Jack’s been off all week,” Luke mutters, remembering his brother’s reaction when he had told him he was staying at home instead of going to the concert. He had called him out on staying home just to be around you, saying he’d regret missing out on such a huge experience, like there won’t be a hundred other concerts in his lifetime, and that you wouldn’t even appreciate him doing it. “Making all these passive aggressive comments,”

“No way! Jack Hughes? Passive aggressive?” You gasp, shuffling in your seat to give him more of your attention, “What next, is he gonna start acting like the world revolves around him too?”

“Don’t get cute,” Luke rolls his eyes. It’s starting to make sense, him chewing his ear off like that - even though the two of you had literally caught him out on a date, if he feels like Ellie is moving on with his best friend, he’s bound to feel some sort of way about it. “If they were together when he came home from that date, maybe he saw them,”

“They were hardly getting it on with the door wide open, Luke, they were playing cards.” You scoff, “Plus, he has no right to be upset, he was literally on a date he told nobody about.”

“He gets in his head about stuff like this,” Luke reasons as he slows the boat, bringing it to a stop in the middle of the water so he can focus, “Talks himself in circles until it makes him so dizzy he does something stupid.”

“You think that’s what he’s doing?”

“I don’t know, I don’t like assuming the worst of my brother, though.”

“Alright, let’s say Jack is only being a dick because he thinks Ellie and Cole are hitting it off,” you stand up now that the boat is steady, kicking your slides off and ambling over to the benches at the back, out from under the cover of the roof. “What are we supposed to do about it, we can hardly keep them apart, keeping track of Jack and Ellie is hard enough without throwing Caufield into the mix. He's sneaky.”

“We’d only technically have to follow Ellie, still,” Luke says as he follows you to the back of the boat, thankful your back is to him when you start to push your skirt down your legs, and you can’t see the way his eyes go three times their usual size, he’s almost anticipating a swat to his chest for when you turn and notice. “They can still hang out, just not one-on-one, one of us could keep an eye on them, take it in turns.”

“That sounds an awful lot like hard work, Hughes,” you huff, taking a seat on the leather bench and stretching your legs out before lounging back, “Can’t your brother just grow a backbone and ask her out? It would save us both a lot of hassle.”

“I’m working on it,” he throws himself onto the bench opposite yours, thinking of all the times he’s tried to cut the conversation with his brother short by just telling him to grow a pair. “I guess you’re right, we can’t stop them being friends, it would be hypocritical.”

“Hypocritical?”

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re friends.”

“You think we’re friends?”

“You don’t?”

“We watch one movie together and now all of a sudden you think we’re besties?”

“I think we’re friends ‘cause you like my company, you wouldn’t have asked me to bring you out here if you didn’t like being around me.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re deluded.” You smile, pushing your sunglasses down from the top of your head to the bridge of your nose and relaxing back. “I like tanning and being on the water. You’re a glorified chauffeur at this point. Not a good one, either.”

“I got us out here no problems, didn’t I?”

“I had to hold on the whole way, you were throwing me around like a loose can in the trunk of your car.”

“Yeah, well the water was choppy,”

“A good workman never blames his tools, Hughes.” You smile over at him, and the innuendo makes his cheeks go hot. Definitely regretting bringing you out on the water with no escape about now.

“Did you really ask me to bring you out here just to lay out in the sun?” He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, watching as you angle your neck to face him. 

“Is that a problem?”

“It is if you’re gonna be a grouch about me being here.”

“I thought you’d be all quiet and brooding like you usually are.”

“Me?” He laughs, “Quiet and brooding?” He doesn’t think anyone has ever used the word quiet to describe him in his life. He knows you can’t be serious - all you’ve done for weeks is blast him for getting on your nerves.

“I’ve literally seen you talk once before this summer.”

What the hell do you mean by that? You barely knew who he was that day he approached you in the club. 

“That’s ‘cause you’d have to notice me to see me talk.”

“You’ve never talked to me.”

He did talk to you. Several times, in fact. That day outside your dorm with Ellie’s gift basket, a couple times in class - but they’re all insignificant, minor exchanges of words he would quite like to forget, if he’s honest. Mumbling and stuttering and, quite frankly, embarrassing, to say the least. A far cry from the confident man he’d like to think he has become. “Why would I talk to you?”

“That’s rude,” you pout, and he straightens up immediately.

“No, I just mean, like,” he waves his arms out in between the two of you, gesturing over and shaking his head. “You’re you. We were never really on the same level for me to be talking to you.”

You bring your glasses back onto the top of your head, pushing your hair out of your face and squinting against the sun to level him with a glare. “Aren’t you a big time athlete?”

“I am now. You wouldn’t have given me the time of day back then.”

“You never gave me a chance to.”

“You could have approached me.” He thinks you’re just biting back for argument’s sake, if he’s honest - there isn’t a chance in hell you ever spared a thought for talking to him or giving him the time of day. You barely even looked his way - and he definitely would have noticed. 

“So could you.” You frown. 

“I tried once.” He distinctly remembers the one time he did approach you, away from class and apart from the first time he met you, dialled up with liquid courage and driven by the way you were dressed as a sexy Patrick Bateman, and he finally felt like having the right conversation starter around his love for American Psycho might have helped him kick something off with you, or at least got you to acknowledge his existence. He would have even taken you calling him Lu again. “At a Halloween party in Freshman year. You blew me off. I barely got a word out before you were storming off.”

“When you were dressed as Scooby Doo?”

His lips part and close repeatedly like a fish bobbing it’s mouth, blinking slowly at you as he realised just what you even having that memory meant. “That’s a weird thing to remember for someone not interested.”

“A giant dork in a dog costume is a pretty hard thing to forget.” You grin satirically, “I never said I wasn’t interested, you just caught me at a bad time and never tried again,”

“You wanted me to try again?”

“I want you to be quiet. Aren’t you due a nap or something?”

“You can’t seriously tell me you asked me to bring you all the way out here just to lie out in the sun and do nothing,” he groans, watching you return back to your previous position, body bathing in the sunlight and sunglasses pushed back down onto your nose. 

“What, did you think we were gonna play mermaids?” He can’t see the roll of your eyes anymore, but he knows when it happens by now, just from your tone of voice. 

“You can do that back at the house, we have loungers out by the pool,”

“It’s not as peaceful as this.” You sigh, “Plus, the trees around the back block the sun this time of day. I’m getting pale cooped up in the club all week, I have catching up to do.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Lay back and relax,” you advise, nodding toward the bench he’s perched on the edge of, reaching your hand down into your tote and blindly tossing the bottle of sunscreen in his general direction, “You could use some sun, too. And if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you do my back later.”

Luke, surprisingly, folds - doing as he’s told and lounging back into the leather, and he begrudgingly thinks a little too much about how right you are. This is peaceful. The soft whoosh of water against the boat, clear blue skies, no yelling or arguing or people competing around him. Just you, and the sunshine, and the smell of melon-scented sun lotion seeping into his skin.

It isn’t long before he drifts off, his head resting on his folded arm, the heat of the sun warming him like a blanket, and the last thing he sees before his eyes close is your head turned his way, lips parted slightly as you sleep, yourself, skin glistening and your chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. 

When his eyes open again, you’re sat up, holding your hair up with one hand and fanning yourself with the other.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, voice thick with sleep as he sits up, his skin peeling uncomfortably off the leather. 

“I’m hot.” You whine, turning to him with a pout.

He scoffs, resisting the urge to say something corny like, I know you are, before he points out over the side of the boat. ��If you look to your right, there’s a large body of water you can cool down in.”

“I’m not getting in there!”

“Why not?”

“Lake monsters, for one,” you scoff, releasing your hair and he watches it fan out over your shoulders in soft waves.

“They’re only native to Scotland, I heard.” Luke stands, looking over the side and into the steady waters to gauge how safe it would be to go in without a vest. The water is still, he’s never had any problems in this part of the lake, and he’s confident the two of you could at least take a dip without there being any concerns - you were a lifeguard, after all, and he’s always been a strong swimmer. 

“Aren’t there fish in here?” You ask, beside him now as you peer over the edge yourself. 

“There’s actually a cool hack to check, do you want me to show you?”

You eye him sceptically but nod, anyway, and he holds his hand out to help you walk to the back of the boat, stepping down onto the stern where it’s easier to reach into the water. 

You’re careful not to let him fall behind you, clearly cautious of the fact that he could push you in. Instead, he stands beside you, squats to reach down over the edge and run his fingers through the ripples that form. He stands back to full height and you squint to look up at him, the sun blaring from over his shoulder and reflecting off his sweat-slicked skin. 

It makes your eyes sparkle again, and it’s almost enough to make him change his mind from what he’s about to do - only, before your powers of hypnosis can work on him for the second time in a matter of hours, he quickly grasps onto your hips and launches the two of you into the water. 

He has the same misguided confidence he had when he squirted you with that hose - a burst of energy that he immediately succumbed to before he could think rationally about it, and it’s the same energy that forces deep and hearty laughter to rumble from his chest as you squeal on your way into the lake. 

The two of you land with a big splash, and emerge simultaneously, you running your hands through your wet hair to push it back out of your face.

“What the hell did you do that for?”

“You said you were hot, I was trying to help!”

“You are so dead!” You exclaim, splashing him with a swat of your hand against the water.

“Oh, look, a fish!”

“Ew, no!” You yell, squirming forward to try and dodge it, unintentionally leaping right into Luke, the heat of his firm chest under your flattened palm, an arm curling over his shoulder to steady yourself. 

His arms curl around your body by instinct, wrapping around your waist and holding you against him until you realise his trick, and your hands press on the top of his head until you’re pushing him under the surface with a yell of, “So dead!”

Laughter ripples out of him, from the pits of his stomach to the parting of his lips, and comes out in bubbles against your skin as you hold him down, your body thrashing to get away from his until you break free from his hold, and he rises back from under the water.

“Get back here, you’re not getting away with that!” He calls after you, launching himself forward to catch you.

“No,” you squeal, trying to gain momentum as you leap away, only for his arm to curl around your waist, pulling your squirming body back against him with a splash. “Let me go, you brute!”

“Tell me you’re having fun or you’re getting dunked,” he commands, lips beside your ear as your back is held flush to his chest, your skin still warm from the sun and smooth against his. 

“You dunk me and I’ll leave your ass to the lake monsters,” you warn him, still squirming in his hold.

“Like you could drive the boat, you need me,” your body seems to still the lower his tone gets, succumbing to his hypnotising powers, and he can feel you square your shoulders against him. 

“Yeah right,” even Luke can tell how much your denial is forced from the shiver down your spine, “Jack can do it, how hard could it be?”

“You’d really hijack the boat just to avoid admitting you like my company?” He asks as he lets you go, and you turn immediately in the water to face him. He tilts his head when your gazes meet across the water, and your eyes flicker between his as if trying to read him like a book.

“Today’s been nice,” you admit, with a dramatic roll of your eyes, “Last night, too. Not specific to your company. Just being away from everybody else."

“So that’s the key?” He dares to swim a little closer, just enough that you won’t notice him reducing the proximity between the two of you. “You wanna get me on my own?”

“You-,”

“Wish,” he finishes, your eyes meeting in a steady gaze despite the bobbing of your heads to stay afloat. He’d like to think it’s more than the water that has brought you back this close to him, legs kicking beneath the surface, his hands itching to hold back on your waist to help, “Yeah, I do.”

If he has managed to stay more or less in place while treading water, then it can’t be the current drifting you toward him, and you’re so close now that he could hold you, if his brain could just link to his hands to give them the courage to do so. 

You like being alone with him - you’ve pretty much just admitted so - feel comfortable enough that you change your plans to fit him into them - just like you had last night - you wanted him to talk to you in college, you noticed him, even, enough to remember the fact that he never did. 

There has to be some base level of interest there for you to be this close, in the first place. To move into his house, to agree to spend your summer in his company, to spending more time with him than he’s noticed you spending with your supposed best friend. 

And just as he convinces himself of it, and his thoughts link to the movement of his hands underwater, inching closer to grip at your hips and pull you all the way toward him, a shrill ringing carries all the way from the boat to Luke’s ears, turning both of your attention back to the vehicle.

“Shit, that’s Jack’s ringtone.” He groans, “They’re probably back by now.”

The two of you swim back toward the boat, and he pulls himself up onto the stern before lending you a hand to get up, yourself. 

There are a bunch of texts from his brother.

Where are you at?

Did the demon get you in your sleep?

Where’s the boat?

Please tell me you’re dumping her body and she’s not dumping yours.

You’re dead either way when you get back!

“Shit, we better get back,” he grumbles, rushing to the front of the boat to get it started again. Before you sit beside him, he feels the draping of a towel across his shoulders, and his heart thuds at the small smile you give him when his eyes meet yours.

“Sorry if I got you in trouble.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, nonchalant despite the rampant beating in his chest, and the thought of his brother chewing his ear off when the two of you get back. “You’re worth the headache.”

He winks, teasingly, and his eyes go back to the water before he gets the chance to see your cheeks flush. You’d probably just blame it on sunburn, anyway.

You don’t speak much on the drive back, but Luke can feel your eyes on him, can practically hear your mind whirring with a million thoughts - only because his is doing the same. 

Why does he has to have a brother with the world’s worst timing?

He would have kissed you.

At least, he thinks he would have.

His hands were reaching out. He would have pulled you in by the hips, held you against him, raised so that your faces were finally level, and he would have made a move. He can feel it in his bones, still thrumming with almost-arrogance. A knowing, sure feeling that he can’t shake - one that tells him you would have kissed him back.

But he’ll never know, now.

When the two of you get back, Jack is waiting on the dock, and you gather your things before Luke helps you off the boat. He ushers you past his brother, knowing you’d be down to argue all afternoon, if necessary, but he can take this one on his own. He doesn’t want you hearing the sort of venom he knows his brother can spew out when he’s mad like this.

You brush past Jack on the edge of the dock, who thankfully waits until you’re back at the gate and out of earshot to start on Luke.

“What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

“What, I’m not allowed to have fun when you’re not here?” Luke scoffs, rolling his eyes at his brother’s theatrics.

So he took the boat out, it’s really not that deep, he thinks. He’s an adult, he has his license, there really shouldn’t be a problem.

“I know you’ve seen Jennifer’s Body, you shouldn’t be out on the lake on your own with her,”

“Implying she’s a demonic serial killer might be a little over-dramatic, even for you,” Luke huffs as he starts to make his own way back.

 “Trust me, it’s not.” Jack stops him with a hand gripping at his elbow. “Whatever trick she’s pulling on you, Luke, you need to wise up,”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“She isn’t interested,” Jack tells him, “She’s using you to pass the time until someone better falls into her lap, and you’re falling straight for it. Letting her convince you to stay behind and miss hanging with the rest of us, taking the boat out on your own, don’t you think it’s weird how she never had any interest in talking to you before it started benefitting her? Before you made it to the big leagues?”

Luke narrows his eyes at his brother, shoulders slumping as the words seem to weigh on them, like a heavy towel draped across to dry him and rub away all the affections you had blessed him with over the past 24 hours.

But it isn’t Jack’s words that are ringing around his head, this time. It’s yours. 

You never talked to me.

You never gave me a chance.

You never tried again.

Maybe you did have some level of interest before. Maybe his intuitions earlier had been right. Maybe it’s still there. 

“It’s none of your business, Jack,” he grumbles, not allowing him a second to rain on this parade. “You don’t even know her.”

“Don’t come crying to me when she breaks your heart, then.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

If you’re thankful for any rule at the house, it’s the rule for knocking before you come into any bedroom. Quinn knocks most mornings to let you know breakfast is being prepared, or before he goes on a store run to ask if there’s anything you or Ellie need. Jack knocks for Ellie, and now Cole does too.

You can always tell when it’s Luke though.

Repeated and incessant, a constant rapping of knuckles against the wood until you answer, instead of any sort of pattern or rhythm.

“Can I come in?” He asks as soon as you open.

“No.” You tell him every time, but to no avail. 

“Thanks,” He swerves into the space beside you, careful not to shove past as he makes his way into the bedroom. “We have a problem.”

“Yeah, they’re called boundaries, Hughes.” You scoff, slamming the door and following him. “You can’t just waltz in here like you own the place.”

“I do.” He frowns, “Own the place. This is my house."

“Your brothers own it, actually.”

“What are you, Michigan Census Bureau?” You mimic the words back to him, your face scrunched tight and your voice as whiney and annoying as it can go, and he pushes his hand in your face, just light enough to cover it and not actually smack you because he doesn’t have a death wish. “The problem. You have to focus,” he clicks his fingers in front of you, and you swat his hand away with a frown.

“Click at me like a dog again and I’ll bite your fingers off.” The look on your face is one he should probably fear, but there’s a nagging instinct he can’t fight to keep pushing your buttons. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but it feels wrong to ignore.

“Is that supposed to turn me on?”

“The problem, Luke, get on with it.”

“Right.” He sighs, throwing himself down on the bed, “I can’t find Cole and Ellie anywhere. I think he took her out.”

“What?” You reach forward and push at his shoulder, “You had one job, Hughes!”

It had been his turn to take watch, as the two of you had agreed the other day out on the water, but it was really starting to get tiring, having to play third wheel to a situation he really didn’t understand, and he needed a recess. Five minutes just to recuperate, he didn’t expect them to make a break for it so quick. 

“I left to make a sandwich! I’m allowed to eat, you can’t expect me to starve it goes against my rights!”

“You’re such an idiot,” You scoff as you rush toward the closet to find something to wear, your plans of a self-care day now flushed down the toilet thanks to Luke’s insatiable appetite. “You couldn’t watch them for an hour without succumbing to malnutrition?”

“Why can’t you be on watch for once?”

“I was doing my nails,” You retort, wiggling your freshly painted fingernails in his face, crimson red to match your toes, and the colour Luke feels his cheeks turning at the sight of them. “Because thanks to someone the gel started lifting after spending my entire afternoon the other day with my hands in a soapy bucket.”

“You’re the one who took the detour to beat Jack home and got my car all dirty.”

“Whatever, turn around.” You’re already lifting your tank over your head before Luke gets the chance to comply, his mouth falling agape before he can control it at the sight of you stood in just your bra and pyjama shorts in front of him. The instruction only registers when your tank top hits him in the face, dropping into his lap so he can look up at your scowl and swivel in his place on the bed. “They’re probably at the mall, she was saying she wanted to go to the art supply store there.”

“So what, we’re gonna just bump into them? Won’t they think it’s weird we’re showing up there after we both said we were staying in today?” He tries not to look into the corner of the room, where he knows the mirror placed there will show him the reflection of you changing - although what’s the use in hiding anything, now? He’s already seen it.

He’s also seen you in your many different bikinis over the past few of weeks. Has been up close and personal, even, holding your body against his out in the lake. 

But your bathing suits aren’t slightly sheer and frilly around the edges, and don’t push up on anything - not that they really need to.

But thinking about that isn’t gonna do him any favours. 

Old men playing chess, animals in the shelter, getting slammed into the boards at high speeds - thinking of those should get his mind back on track.

“Nope, we’re gonna follow them.”

“I thought you said that spying on people is childish.”

“It is when you’re talking about lurking in bushes and hiding behind menus, Luke.”

When he sees you come around the front of the bed to grab your sneakers, he decides on his own terms he can turn back around, careful not to let his eyes linger too long on the expanse of your legs beneath the skirt you’ve now changed into. 

If it wasn’t for the other afternoon spent working together to wash his car, or the evening spent watching movies, sharing a bottle of wine and indulging in those sticky face masks or the way you had quite literally drifted into his arms in the lake the other day, he would probably feel like a creeper for the way his one track mind has persisted. But, despite your efforts to convince him otherwise, he isn’t deluded. 

There’s something brewing between the two of you. 

It’s in the twitch of your lips that now follows every time you roll your eyes, and the magnetised force in which your eyes track him whenever he enters the room, where you had been entirely indifferent before - you’re warming up to him, he can sense it.

“So what’s the plan?”

“I wanna see what it is they keep running off together for,” you shrug as you braid your hair into pigtails in the mirror, your gaze flickering back to him, “Every time we interrupt them, they just keep sneaking back off again. Maybe if we find out what it is they’re doing, we’ll be better at keeping them away from doing it.”

“And how are we supposed to stay hidden?”

“Easy, we have to wear something we usually wouldn’t be caught dead in.”

“I’ve seen you in that exact outfit like twelve times.” He gestures with a lazy hand to the outfit you have on - white t-shirt, navy skirt, socks that go just above your ankles and the same pair of sneakers he must have seen you in every day the last year you were both in college together. 

Not that he was paying that close attention.

“I know. Can I borrow that quarter zip you wore the other day? You know, the one that’s the colour of baby poop? Super hideous, really gross-,”

“Har har, real funny,” he whips the tank top he’s still, for whatever reason, clutching in his hands at you before throwing it onto the bed, and storming toward the door, calling out a, “Let’s go,” over his shoulder and not bothering to check if you’re coming when he starts to make his way downstairs - the echo of your giggling laughter following him down the hallway tells him as much.

—

“Are you sure she said the art supply store?”

Luke’s neck is starting to hurt from craning it above the shelves in search of Ellie’s curls, this being the second art store the two of you have checked. Somehow he’s the one looking out while you peruse the shop, now cooing at a section of crotchet animal kits and pointing them out until he mutters out some half-hearted cute, or nice.

“There aren’t many things I could have confused it for, Luke, unless you know of anything that rhymes with art supplies?” You pick up one of the kits, turning it to assess the difficulty by the pictures on the back before putting it back on the shelf.

“Maybe she said she had parts to buy?”

“Alright, smartass,” You scoff, shouldering past him to make your way toward the exit, clearly having no luck in finding them here. She definitely wouldn’t have parts to buy for anything, she’s hardly Fix-It Felix. “You can buy me lunch and we’ll see if she’s put anything on her story yet.”

“I’m starting to think they’re not even at the mall and you’ve lured me out of the house under false pretences for free food.” The diffidence he’s giving is entirely forced as he drags his feet behind you, following you out of the store. “If you wanted me to take you on a date, you could have just asked. It was probably the stop for a smoothie that had us missing them in the first place.”

You gasp, and before he has the opportunity to retort with something just as annoying, you grab his hand and tug him with you behind one of the giant plants that are beside the coffee stand, keeping a hold of him as you poke your head around the corner.

“There they are,” you whisper back, your fingers still clutching at his as he crowds into the same space to make sure he too is hidden behind the sprawling leaves.

“Oh so hiding behind bushes is alright if it’s your idea?”

“Shh,” you frown, your hand releasing his and pressing over his mouth, “They’ll hear you, Loud Mouth,” and his eyes follow the pointed finger on your other hand to where Ellie and Cole are walking together toward the store you and Luke just left - side by side, sodas in hand, smiling and laughing and nudging at each other. 

In better circumstances, he’d be thinking about how he’s pressed to your back, bending to accommodate for the height difference, your head tilted to make room for his to lean in for a better look, and your hand still resting on his face, not really covering his mouth but more caressing his jaw in an absentminded fashion as you watch the two of them. 

But all he can think about, disturbingly enough, is his brother - and how hurt he’d be to see what’s happening between his supposed best friends. 

“We’re following them, right?” He asks lowly, his face not too far from yours, and when you turn your head to the side to look at him, he feels like your gaze is softer than usual when it takes in how hardened and dark his is.

“Definitely,” you agree, stepping away from him and turning to face him properly. “If you saw me out of the corner of your eye, you wouldn’t know it was me, right?”

Wrong, Luke thinks, but that’s only because he’d be able to pick you out of a line up in a pitch black room by now - blind folded, spun around a few times for good measure and facing the wrong way.

When he had found a Mets jersey on the rack in the Goodwill you had dragged him to in search of a disguise, and your words from earlier about not being caught dead in something had rang in his head, he had thought it was perfect. And then you had waltzed over with the same jersey, and your eyes had lit up.

“We can’t wear the same thing,” he frowned, unable to hold the weight of the expression for too long when he saw just how excited you were getting. “That’s hardly blending in."

“No, it’s perfect!” You exclaimed, “Ellie would never expect me to match anyone!”

He had thought the shirts were too much before you threw in the identical orange baseball caps you had found, and at that point he was cursing whatever scorned woman it was that dumped all her ex’s shit into the thrift store.

The two of you look cute in your matching gear, he can’t deny that, he just wishes you could have found something that made him feel a little less dirty, maybe Wolverine blue and yellow, if you were gonna dress up as a couple.

Luke doesn’t like how you still make his throat dry in Mets gear.

He reaches out to adjust the cap on your head, pulling the bill down to cast more of a shadow over your face, and combining that with the way your braids, the ones you said you’d never usually wear but seem to suit you anyway, come out the bottom of either side of the cap, he figures anyone else would have a hard time immediately placing you. “Probably not,” he shrugs, making sure to keep an eye on the apparent lovebirds still hovering in the entrance of the art store. 

“Great.” You smile victoriously, “Put your arm around me.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” You scoff, “I’m hardly asking you to ravage me outside the Pretzel Peddler, Hughes, make haste,” you shoo him forward, taking control of the situation and forcing yourself under his arm as the two of you stumble back toward the art store. 

Remaining incognito isn’t entirely hard when the two of you are moving as one, you stuffed under his arm and him able to hide his face in the top of your head if he thinks either Cole or Ellie are likely to see you.

Following them is easy, able to maintain a short enough distance that you can both eavesdrop on their minimal conversation, and there isn’t really a problem until they break apart. 

Ellie goes toward the back of the store, Cole towards the front, and you whisper to Luke that it might be best for you to break apart, too - if you both follow one of them, the other is more likely to catch you - and so you drift after Cole, and he drifts after Ellie, and while the two of you can still see each other, there are a lot of unidentifiable hand gestures in place of where you can no longer talk. That is, until Cole heads further down the other end of the store, and you slip completely out of view.

It’s less fun, spying this way, watching as Ellie browses the shelves, looking over all the sketchbooks until she finds the right one - as if he hasn’t seen a stack of around 5 of them in their room back at the house - swerving so fast on her feet that Luke stumbles on his own to get away, rushing around the bend before she can see him. 

When he rounds the corner of the aisle and sees you heading straight for him, eyes wide and step rushed, he rushes, too, tripping forward until the two of you collide, your stance thankfully much sturdier than his. You grab him by his shirt to make sure he’s steady on his feet before you pull him with you as you fall against the shelf behind you, standing on your tip toes and tugging him down to meet your lips with a surprised grunt.

What the fuck?

Your hands move up to cup at either side of his face, holding him in place as you angle to slot the bill of your cap to the side of his so they don’t bump and fall off, and he loses himself in the warmth of your kiss before he even realises that he’s halfway gone. Your hands cover both of your profiles, and Luke thinks that if you are caught, there’s no way for them to identify the two of you unless Ellie has the orange-red colour and long, supposedly almond - or so you had told him - shape of your nails memorised. Because who would pay such close attention to something like that?

A hand falls to your hip, another to your waist, and he’s teasing your back into an arch with his touch, only distantly hearing surprised exclamations of oh fuck, and sorry, from either side of the aisle.

He pays no mind to the sound of rushed, retreating footsteps, trying to press his tongue between your lips for a further taste of very berry smoothie and sugary balm that he can feel the stickiness of, that he wants his lips to be coated in forever.

He savours the seconds after, where you drag out the show just to make sure Ellie and Cole have actually disappeared, and he pushes his luck one more time, deepening the kiss until you pull away, your hands on his chest shoving purposefully. 

“What was that for?” He asks, breathless and dazed as he takes in your appearance, lips swollen and wet by his doing, pupils dilated.

“PDA makes people uncomfortable, right?” you shrug, like it’s the most obvious explanation for the way you just kissed the life out of him. Like there was nothing else you possibly could have done to get out of that predicament. And his heart thumps as he remembers that those are his words, uttered in a tease way back in the restaurant at the club. “They were hardly gonna stick around and watch, I don’t have Caufield down as a voyeur.”

Luke watches as your eyes drop briefly to his lips, and he swears he sees the flicker of a smile twitch at the corners of your mouth. His fingers come up by instinct, pressing tentatively at the sticky residue that coats the outline of them.

“You tell anyone I did that and I’ll gut you like a fish, Hughes.”

He nods, still in a daze, if he’s honest, and stays in place while you nudge past him to follow in the direction where Ellie and Cole disappeared. 

When he does finally come to, shaking his head to pull himself out of the way his brain is trying to relive the last few minutes, he follows, too - maybe less discreet in his movements, this time, in the hopes that another close call might just gain him another kiss, too.

You’d like to think you have good intuition when it comes to others and their actions. You can see straight through people, a shift in their expression, a twitch in their smile, a glint in their eye - it makes you protective of the people you surround yourself with, keeping only a close-knit group of friends, and keeping everyone else at arms length. 

Friends who you know when they’re upset, or down, need someone around, or need space. It’s how you know Luke has been avoiding you all week, and how you know even more just to leave him to it. 

Not that you’re friends.

It started with long days at the rink - not that you lament his training, but you know he hadn’t been that deep into his regimen so far this summer. Quinn had been the one to drop you off at the club that last couple of days, and Luke hadn’t joined the group when they had played a round of golf and stopped by the bar for some refreshments after.

You’ve seen him around the house still, usually shooting off to God-knows-where, eyes locking in the hall as he passes you like a ship in the night, until he shifts his gaze with an awkward smile.

If he wants to be childish about one stupid, meaningless kiss, you have no choice but to let him.

You’d hardly forced yourself on him. He could have pushed you off if he didn’t want it. Instead, he’d pulled you even closer, even tried to slip you some tongue! And it had kind of been his suggestion in the first place.

You wouldn’t be so bothered about it if you had something to do with Ellie gone for the next week - her little sister’s birthday taking precedent over your summer plans, and the family taking a trip out of state. You can’t even go out, trapped inside due to the unforeseen storm - and you hate thunder, it reminds you too much of all those tumultuous nights locked in your room, listening to your parents fighting, the wind and rain doing little to drown it all out.

But all you have is the house, and with the house comes the movies - the ones he had promised to watch with you.

You had both written down your top ten, yours in his notes, and his in yours, and the damn page has been haunting you every time you unlock your phone. And that’s how you’ve given in so easily. It has nothing to do with the fact you miss him - it’s just pure boredom and curiosity that has you watching Happy Gilmore on your own on a Friday night.

You don’t miss him.

That would be ridiculous.

Luke Hughes is annoying. 

His taste of movies is annoying.

The fact that won’t talk to you is annoying.

“Hey, I thought we were gonna watch this together.”

Or not.

Luke leans against the doorway, possessing the kind of casual indifference that only a man could, frowning and pouting as if he’s not the sole reason you’re cooped up on your own watching a damn movie about golf of all things.

“Thought you were avoiding me,” you bite back, arms crossed over your chest and brows furrowed in frustration. 

“Why would I be avoiding you?” He asks as he steps into the room and closes the door behind him, your eyes darting straight to long, slender fingers wrapped around the handle. 

“Because you kissed me, and then all of a sudden started acting like I don’t exist to you.” You accuse with a pointed glare, figuring one of you has to have the guts to talk about it. 

“Actually, you kissed me,” he smirks, perching himself on the edge of your bed, “And then told me in graphic detail you’d pretty much murder me if I ever spoke about it again, so I,” he frowns, “Didn’t.”

You can’t help but scowl at how stupid that sounds. He can’t seriously think you would murder him. If you were the murdering type in the first place, you’d have done it long ago. You even tell him as much.

“I don’t know, you had this scary look in your eye, kind of didn’t want to test that theory,” he shrugs, reaching in the pocket of his hoodie and throwing a bag over to you. 

M&Ms. Your favourite.

“You gonna scoot over?” He asks, raising a brow and widening his eyes as if he’s pleading, as if you’ve been the one giving him the cold shoulder.

You roll your eyes and shuffle across the bed, making room for him beside you that he occupies way too quick, legs stretching out in front of him, all the way down the bed, as he gets comfortable.

You try to focus on the movie, as if you have any clue what’s been happening so far, anyway, but you can see him out of the corner of your eye, an arm tucked behind his head, his chest stretched out, and his jaw tensing as he chews on the candy he’s already stealing from you.

He’s had a haircut. Shorter on the sides, and it makes his face look a little more defined. Still curly - maybe even curlier - and softer than before, in a way that you’d want to run your hands through it, if you were a crazy person, of course.

And he smells good, too.

You’re starting to think this has been his plan all along - for distance to make your wretched heart grow fonder, or whatever - and you find yourself tensing your own jaw as you grind your teeth and try to tune back into whatever Adam Sandler is yapping about. 

“I sort of was avoiding you,” he admits, and you can still see him out of the corner of your eye, looking down at you, now, although you don’t look back.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, shifting a little to face you more, “I thought you might have felt weird about kissing me.”

“I didn’t.” 

“Okay then.”

“Alright.”

“We can talk about it, if you want?” He suggests, and that’s finally when you look at him, with his lips twisted nervously and his brow raised, anticipating your response. 

What’s there to even talk about? You kissed him as a distraction. He knows that. You know that. 

“I’m good.” You tell him, a short, forced smile to ease the tension before he smiles back.

“I know something we can talk about,” he leans in, “Considering how little you care about this movie.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“How you had a big fat crush on me in college,” he smirks, eyes darting between yours, the flash from the tv screen highlighting all the different hues of blues and greens in his irises.

He’s not gonna catch you out, though.

“You’re delusional.” You tell him, your own eyes narrowing, almost like a defence mechanism. He seems to be quite good at reading you, and you’re not letting him in that easy.

“So you keep saying,” he pouts, pensively, “But then it’s you never talked to me, Luke, and I remember small random details about you, Luke!”

“I don’t sound like that,” you frown, taking slight offence to the squeaky voice he puts on, more than likely to distract you from the closing distance. He speaks again before you can realise you really should be putting more effort into denying such ridiculous accusations, before he completely slanders your good name. 

“You’ve been avoiding me all week and I missed you, Luke-,”

You don’t know why your mouth is all of a sudden on his, but if you take a second to think about it, you’ll spiral out. His lips are soft, and your noses slot perfectly beside each other - no painful bumps or clumsy collisions. Just a plain, normal kiss between two people who tolerate each other. That’s all.

When you part, his eyes drift open softly, his lashes - infuriatingly long as they are - flutter open, and his irises glaze over as if he’s under a spell. 

“That was-,”

“To shut you up,” you mutter, rolling your own eyes and forcing a scowl. “You were starting to give me a headache.”

He nods, that dumb look still in his eyes, and you feel your jaw clenching almost achingly at how it makes you feel.

“And I care very deeply about Gilmore’s happiness, so if you could cut it out with your yapping, I’d really appreciate it.”

“His name is Happy-,”

“I didn’t ask.”

When Luke is on the ice, most of the noise around him usually tunes itself out. Aside from the scrape of his skates, and the thudding of his heart, he can usually dial out the crowd, the chanting, the booing, the chirping, whatever it may be - all distractions to the end goal.

The one noise he never can ignore, though, is that of the goal horn, blearing throughout the arena, bouncing off of every corner until it hits him like a freight train, and he thinks they ring a little louder when it’s him that scores.

And with that horn, he can fine tune himself back into his surroundings. To shouts and cheers and applause, a sea of red and white jerseys jumping up, the Devils logo brandished across their chests, and his work being praised by the masses.

He somehow has the power to zero in on you, too. Arms raised, up a little in the stands, not too far that you’re just a speck, but not too close that you’d be a distraction.

A wide smile on your face, adoration in your eyes, and 43 on your arm. 

“Luke!” Your lips read, drowned out by the crowd, but he can still make it out, calling out to him like you’re the only other person in the room. “C’mon, Luke!” 

He smiles, as big as he ever has before, and points straight at you, dropping a wink like you could possibly catch it from out in the stands, and taking a bow.

“Hughes, you big lump, wake up!”

He groans as he’s shaken from his sleep, soft hands gripping at his arms and jolting him awake.

“What?” He doesn’t open his eyes, not yet, but he thinks it’s the weight of his furrowed eyebrows keeping them closed. 

“I need a favour,” you whisper.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s 2am. I don’t do favours before 9.”

“C’mon, please?” He opens one eye to your pleading face, and then another, when he catches the teary reflection of the moonlight in your eyes.

“What is it?” He straightens up, rubbing the sleep from his eyelids and straining to make the rest of you out in the dark. 

“I need you to look at the window in my room, it’s whistling.”

“It’s just the storm, it gets like that when it’s windy,” he sighs, sinking back down a little into his pillows. He had thought you were in danger, or something.

“Can’t you fix it?” You plead, soft fingers still squeezing a little at his bicep, and his chest starts to feel heavy just from the tone of your voice - but it’s 2am. You had him up until midnight watching Wall-E, and he has a morning skate with his dad at 6am. 

“Do I look like a handyman?” He huffs, also a little aggrieved at the fact you had disrupted his rather nice dream. “Just go to sleep and ignore it.”

“I can’t.” You whine, “I can’t sleep if there’s a storm, they freak me out. And I can’t ignore it when it’s literally screaming at me through a broken window. And I’m on my own in there, it’s scary.”

Luke presses his palm firm into the socket of his closed eyes, trying to rub away the exhaustion that is urging every fibre of his being to fall straight back asleep. 

He can’t fix the window. It’s been like that for as long as him and his brothers have lived here - always the dud room left to whoever rocks up last to the house - and even if he could, he’s comfortable, and warm, and if his bare feet touch the cold, hardwood floor, he won’t be able to get himself to drift back off. 

He sighs, shuffling beneath the sheets before grasping them and flipping them over, making room beside him and muttering a grumpy, demanding, “Get in.”

“Luke,” you whine, and he can see your pout even through his closed eyes - lips plump and plush and if he gets even a glimpse he’s going to start thinking about kissing them, again. “You’re really not gonna help me?”

“I don’t offer my super comfy bed up to just anybody,” he reasons, making a little more room, “C’mon, you can barely hear the rain in here, it’s this or the couch downstairs.”

“Can’t you take the couch and I take your comfy bed?”

Luke opens one eye to look at you, eyes glimmering nervously in the crack of moonlight that sneaks through the curtains, lip tugged between your teeth, and relents, immediately. “Do you want me to take the couch?”

He could probably go sleep in your bed, if you’re really that bothered. He doesn’t do too well with noises while he sleeps, but he will if he has to - if that’s what makes you feel better. But you had just said it was scary being alone, and he’s counting on that to make a case for himself to keep his super comfy bed in his whistle-less bedroom.

“No,” you grumble, shoving at his arm, “Move over a little more.”

He relents, making as much room as he can for you to crawl into his bed before he flips the sheets back over on top of you, waiting for you to get comfortable before he melts back into place.

His legs extending into yours is purely accidental, but he doesn’t move them when you don’t flinch away, taking a second to adjust his positioning until he realises something. 

“You’re not wearing pants.”

“Neither are you.” You mumble back straight away, turning to face him, the bare skin of your calves brushing his as you move.

“It’s my bed,” he shrugs, his body on its side and his arm beneath his pillow, the space cramped now that you’re both squeezed in, and he’s trying to give you room, but he swears you have space on the other side. “I don’t wear pants to bed.”

“I don’t either.” 

“What if there’s a fire?”

“I think I’d rather succumb to the flames than let your brothers see me in my panties.”

He just hums, sleepily, trying not to overthink how you wouldn’t mind him seeing you in them. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore the press of your skin to his. 

“Do you want me to go put pants on, Luke, would that make you happy?”

“Don’t ask such a ridiculous question.” He huffs, sinking into his pillows and getting himself back into the right position to drop back off into a deep slumber. “Go to sleep.”

The soft patter of rain against the window lulls him, and he slowly feels you relax beside him, a few minutes of silence settling between the two of you - comforting and still - before you break it. 

“Luke?” You whisper, this time barely audible, like you don’t even want to be heard - and it’s that thought that has him ignoring you, sleep clutching his eyes closed anyway, so close to drifting back off. 

He feels your body shuffle against the mattress, still not enough to lure him back into full consciousness, but he’s aware enough to know your every move.

And he’d like to think he can predict them, imagining you shuffling to get comfy and hoping he’s too deep in his sleep to care if you nudge him while doing so.

But he could never predict the soft press of your lips to the corner of his mouth, and the gentle, almost non-existent muttering of a thank you against his skin. 

He only lets himself smile when he can feel you settle back into the bed, body laid beside him, bare legs brushing against his under the sheets.

You are so welcome, he thinks, that soft smile curving into something much deeper as he succumbs to sleep, body melting into an oozy, gooey, consuming mess beside your own. 

Luke should have known you’d get your own back on him for the whole avoiding thing.

The two of you had been sweet for a solid week, movie nights every other night, especially after you had shared his bed, you’d even made him lunch to come back to the day after. And he had started driving you to and from work, again.

And it’s the drive home from work one day that he sees something in you switch.

“It’s just gonna be a couple people, you’ll probably even know some of the girls from college.”

“It’s your house, Luke, you don’t have to explain your parties to me.” You shift your knees back to face the dash, where they had just been angled toward him, and you cross your arms against your chest. 

“We can pick back up on movie night tomorrow, I don’t have any training all day so we can do a marathon, if you want.”

“Ellie’s back today, so I don’t know.”

He frowns, tightening his fingers around the wheel as he watches you retreat all of a sudden, like you’re annoyed with him, or something.

And then as soon as he pulls up outside the house, you’re climbing out of the car before he even has a chance to come around and open the door for you, storming up the driveway and disappearing inside.

He tries not to let it get to him. Tries to lose himself in the festivities of the night - a house party thrown on whim at the discovery that most of the brothers’ mutual friends were in town. He was excited to see his boys from Michigan, Ethan, Dylan, Luca and Jacob, who all climb out of Ethan’s truck with a 6-pack in hand, and crowd around Luke, embracing him with brotherly pats on his back and ushering him into the kitchen to partake in their pre game ritual - a round of shots to line their stomachs. 

He still keeps a close eye on you once the party is underway. Watches you and Ellie, watches when Cole joins the two of you, and you laugh at whatever dumb jokes he’s trying to tell you. Watches your gaze flicker his way throughout the night, and leave just as quickly, and he has to shrug off the chirps of his friends when they notice, too.

He later watches you catch up with a couple of the girls coming from your sorority, and that’s around the time he loses you, lost in a round of beer pong that fills his bladder quicker than he could have anticipated.

He excuses himself up to his room, the music dying down the further upstairs he gets, and relieves himself with an inebriated bop of his head to whatever melody he can still hear blasting through the floorboards. 

He zips his jeans back up, and ambles over to the sink, washing his hands under the faucet until the sound of his door opening has his heart falling into the pit of his stomach. 

“Jesus,” he gasps, shutting off the water and turning to face where you’re stepping into the room and closing the door behind yourself. “You ever heard of knocking? What are you doing upstairs?”

“Was just checking you weren’t like jerking off in here or something,”

“What if I was, were you planning on watching?”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, pulling a face to feign some sort of offence, but Luke watches as you fidget, tucking your hair behind your ears and shuffling on your feet. 

“Like you’ve been watching me all night,” he smirks, tossing the towel he had used to dry his hands back onto the hook and taking a step into your space, backing you against the counter, your shoes no longer shuffling along the floor. It feels like it’s been days now that you’ve been off with him, even though it’s been a mere few hours, but in those hours, he’s had a lot of time to think about your relationship, or lack thereof.  “Think I haven’t seen you? Can’t take those pretty eyes off of me, can you?”

He’d first noticed when you came downstairs with Ellie, earlier, pinned to her side and gossiping about something, no doubt catching up on her week away. You kept glancing his way, subtly at first, eyes darting over and shifting back just as quick to your best friend, faking interest and nodding along until you looked back over. Your efforts were more noticeable as the two of you moved around different corners of the room, interacting with different groups and still meeting eyes across the expanse of space between you and him. 

His heart jumped every time.

And then Victoria had arrived, just before he had been recruited to play beer pong - an old hookup from his college days. She had always been more of a friend than anything else, and Luke had no interest in reigniting whatever dampened spark they once had, she has a boyfriend now, anyway, but when her hand grazed his arm, and he looked over to see your glare zeroed in on the exact spot she was touching him, he thought he’d have a little fun with it.

Nothing too extreme, a few loud laughs, a little longer spent with her than initially anticipated, but she had been more than happy to regale him with stories about her new relationship, so pretending to pay attention didn’t seem like such a bad idea if it was going to make you do something.

He had a sneaking suspicion as to what had turned your mood, earlier, and he was about to have fun testing his theory - that you had been jealous at the mere mention of other girls being at the house.

He didn’t think it would culminate in you following him all the way up to his room, confronting him in his bathroom with nobody else around, but he’s hardly mad about it, now.

“Shut up,” you scowl, but your tone is weak, and Luke knows he’s got you. Chin tilted up to meet his eyes in defiance, gaze locked on his as he moves closer, and he’s thankful, for the first time tonight, that the boys had forced him to take those shots when the party started.

He wouldn’t have the courage to challenge you like this, otherwise - an inebriated cockiness taking over, puffing out his chest and filling him with the same sort of misplaced bravado he’s been convincing himself to muster all week.

“You already know how to make me.” He mutters, lowly, the proximity of your face to his giving his tone a breathiness that he hopes comes across more seductive than slurred. His mind is stuck on that kiss from the other night, when he had apparently irritated you so much that you felt that was your only option. 

You blink slow, eyes dropping to his lips, and before he can blink, himself, you close the distance.

This is different to before - incomparable to a kiss given just to hide your faces, one just to stop him from talking and another when you had thought he wasn’t conscious. 

This is heated, and intentional, and intense. 

Dainty fingers clutch at the front of his shirt, pinching slightly at his skin before taking a hold of the fabric, and there’s no possible way for you to play this off as something less.

Your lips are firm, slotted against his, and moving before he knows it - his tongue licking at the seams until they part, and you grant him access to the sweet taste of fruity liquor inside your mouth. 

Large hands take residence on your hips, sliding daringly backward until he’s gripping at your ass, long fingers stretching down to trace the hem of your skirt, denim thick but not immune to his absentminded efforts to chase the feeling of more. 

He’s expecting you to come to your senses, anticipating the grip of your hands to turn into a shove, and the sweetness of your taste to turn sour when you start to yell at him, fire in your eyes and venom on your tongue - but all he hears is you moaning into his mouth, all he feels is the press of your torso against his as your back arches into his touch, his fingertips grazing the top of your thigh as your skirt moves in his hold.

He’s greedy with the way he touches you after that, hands cupping, fingers kneading, nails scratching even just to leave his mark, and he barely notices yours slipping down, down, down until the cold press of your fingertips grazes his abdomen, stomach tensing at your touch. 

He groans a little, his movements halting as you manage to distract him from his ministrations, using the leverage you have on his body to press and push until your lips part - swollen and wet with his spit.

His heart thuds in his chest, thump thump thump echoing in his head as he watches you - holds his breath and stares at you with his own lips parted, the taste of you lingering in a way he doesn’t want to swallow too soon. 

He waits for your face to turn, for that hypnotised look in your eyes to turn into a glare, the distance between you bringing some much needed clarity - but the shift never comes.

Instead, you push yourself away from the counter, and he finds himself looking straight down as your hands make their way back to the hard ridges of his stomach.

“What are you doing?” He stutters as your fingers start to tickle lower.

“I wanna give you a hand.”

“Give me-,” he splutters, his own hand stopping yours in its tracks. “Am I dreaming right now? Is this a trick?”

“No,” you persist, pushing your hands despite his weak, half-hearted efforts to stop them. “You did me a favour, why can’t I do one back?” 

“Because that’s not-,” He can’t believe he’s trying to turn this down, the lump in his throat protesting the words that try to come up. You just kissed him. You just let him hike your skirt up and push you against the bathroom counter, let his fingers go so far beyond the realm of reality that he thinks he’s still lost in a dream - and he can’t figure out why he’s even questioning it, anymore. “There’s a pretty big difference between me letting you sleep in my bed and you jerking me off,”

“It’s only a big deal if you make it one, Luke.” You shrug, pausing at the waistband of his pants. Every nerve from his ribs to his toes tingles, the teasing touch of the tips of your fingers sparking something unshakable within him. “Do you want me to help you out or not?”

“Are you high or something?”

“No,” you chuckle, meeting his eyes again - sparkling and beautiful, a hidden vulnerability flashing across them at the insistence of his hesitant rejection. “Are you? You’re really gonna turn me down to just jack yourself off in here on your own?”

“Please don’t call it that.” He pleads, the last thing he needs right now is any sort of reminder of his brother. Not when you have your hands on him. Not when you could conceivably get on your knees right before him. Not when his deepest darkest fantasies could play out after so many years of pining after you. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He lets out a panicked stammer. “Not no. I meant no, like no to your question, not no period.” 

“What?” You step back with a frustrated huff, taking your hands away, close enough still that he can reach out and grab them, holding them between the both of you.

“I want-,” Good lord, he wants a lot. He can still taste you on his tongue, still feel the press of your kiss on his own swollen lips, and his head is spinning so far out of control he doesn’t think he’ll be able to knock any sense back into it any time soon. “Are you sure?”

“Oh my God, Hughes, just pull your pants down and let’s get on with it.”

Luke pulls you in for one more kiss before he relinquishes all control, and hums and whines as you work his zipper down, the sound bouncing off the tiles and reverberating around his skull.

He doesn’t know how you can so easily go back to normal after. 

He can’t understand how you could just lift yourself back onto your feet when the two of you were finished, adjust your skirt around your hips, and leave him alone in the bathroom, panting, flushed and barely coherent, all evidence of your tryst swallowed down like the moans you had forced him to suppress - all except the faint bruises on the lowest part of his stomach that you had sucked into his skin, the ones he hopes grow darker as the days go on, the ones he feels pulsing as he rejoins his friends in the kitchen. 

He had once again promised not to utter a word to anyone - but it doesn’t stop the thousands of them that swirl around his brain after, the ones that linger there all through the night, resurface through the week, and etch themselves into the very core of his being. 

Thousands of words in hundreds of languages, mixing to form romanticised poems he might never understand.

All he does understand, is that he’s so far gone for you now, it isn’t even funny. 

Far gone is starting to seem like the understatement of the century.

Luke can’t get enough of being around you, and it’s so detached now from the two of you only ever hanging out to scheme about Jack and Ellie that he can’t even remember the last efforts you made to do anything about their relationship.

He’s now just focused on whatever relationship the two of you are building between yourselves.

Watching movies in his bed, comparing commentary on your favourites, asking for his opinion, and him asking for yours. And he likes how gentle you are with the things he loves. Movies are kind of his thing, and sharing them with someone else - sitting and watching them and waiting for some kind of reaction, good or bad - could be intimidating with anyone else. 

But you’re so attentive. You ask questions, you remember things, and you try to understand why he might love a film, and try to see things from his perspective, rather than stamping your own opinion over his and ruling anything out.

You’re open-minded, even though you pretend not to be. You’d given Happy Gilmore a second chance, even, and Luke never had you pegged as the second chance type.

You talk a lot more to him on your drives to and from work - not that you didn’t talk before, but this is different, entirely. You have actual discussions, around more than just what’s happening at the house, or what’s happening at work. 

The two of you talk about college, about your major, your plans for after school. You talk about hockey, about Jersey, about his friends and teammates back there, and the life he’s built away from the one you pretend you never knew. 

And the way he feels about you starts to consume him in ways he never thought possible. In ways that make him sort of understand where Jack had been coming from all those years, when he’d never shut up about his feelings for Ellie, and how he thought about her all the time, and wanted to be with her 24/7.

It’s what has him hovering around at the club after he and Quinn had played a round of golf, waiting outside for Quinn to give the keys back for their caddy, and spotting you chatting to Cara at the side door to the restaurant.

He waves as soon as you see him, and his heart jumps when you immediately excuse yourself to skip over, a bright smile on your face that he never thought could be directed his way.

“Hey!” You greet him, cheerily, ponytail swaying behind you as you come to a stop in front of him. 

“What time are you getting off?” He asks, foregoing any small talk and cutting straight to the chase. 

“I’m on the lunch shift today, so 3,” you pout, checking the watch on your wrist that he knows reads just past 1. “You don’t have to wait around though, I can catch a ride from somebody else,”

“No, I’ll take you home.” He assures you, “I need to go to the mall, I’ve got to get a present for a baby shower, I was hoping you’d help me.”

“I don’t know how much help I’d be, babies give me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Yeah, same,” he chuckles, “Maybe we could grab dinner or something, instead?”

“I was gonna pick up a dress for the party next week, so maybe we could do that first?”

“And then dinner?” He asks, a hopeful raise of his eyebrows that is spurred on by the way you’re biting back a smile.

“Yes, Luke, then dinner.” You chuckle, beaming up at him when his face breaks out into a full-blown grin.

“Sick,” he replies, “Yeah, cool,” he nods as he watches you step away, amusement gleaming in your eyes, “I’ll be out here at 3.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Luke watches as you make your way back to the side door of the restaurant, meeting your eye when you look back at him and relishing in the way he can catch the flush of your cheeks all the way from the fountain. 

He smiles to himself as he turns on one foot, light in his step and light in his head, nodding to the guy who is painting the railings leading up to the club foyer and swinging on his feet as he waits for his brother.

If he had a little less self-awareness, he thinks he could start leaping and swinging from the nearest lamp post like a scene straight out of Singing In The Rain.

He hasn’t felt elation like this in a long time.

He hadn’t uttered the word, exactly, but this is as close to a date as he might get, and his entire body is buzzing at the thought of it. 

“Are you coming?” Quinn calls out as he descends the steps at the front of the club, keys in one hand and a water bottle in the other.

“Uhh,” Luke drags out as he not-so-subtly looks back to where you and Cara are talking by the side door. “I think I’m gonna check out the gym.”

“You know it’s just a bunch of old guys on machines in there, right? Plus, I thought we were going in the morning with the rest of the guys?”

“Right,” he mutters absentmindedly, “I meant the pool.”

“You hate indoor pools.”

“The sauna?”

“Your little crush is getting out of hand, huh?” Quinn chuckles, elbowing at Luke’s side to get his attention back.

“It’s not a crush.” Luke huffs, lips pouted as he tears his eyes away from you with great effort. 

“I think we’re past the point of you denying it, Luke,” his older brother gestures to the wall Luke had been staring at when he came outside, “You’re literally watching paint dry to pass the time until she finishes work-,”

“No, I mean like I had a crush on her,” Luke sighs, “Before this summer, when I just thought she was pretty and hot and I could never pluck up the courage to do anything about it. It doesn’t feel like a crush anymore. Or maybe it does, I don’t know, I kinda feel like she’s crushing me, to be honest.”

He gives a nervous laugh when he says it, but it’s not enough to cover up the way he really feels - not when it comes to his big brother, who puts his keys back in his pocket just so he can spare a hand to reach out and pinch at Luke’s cheeks, teasing, “Lukey’s in love,” before he swats him away.

“Hardly,” he scoffs in denial, although he doesn’t really understand why he’s fighting the thought of it so hard.

It’s not exactly a preposterous idea. Love might be an overestimation - you haven’t exactly let him all the way in - but like seems like an understatement. Obsessed seems dramatic. Infatuated?

“I don’t know, I like spending time with her, like talking to her, is all,” he shrugs. He likes a lot more than that, but confiding in Quinn after how his last encounter with Jack about the whole thing had gone has his back up, a little. “I feel like she might like me too.”

It’s the first time he’s said it aloud to anyone else. He’s chirped you about it enough - taken note of the various shades of pink he can flush your cheeks when he does, darker and darker as the days go on - but he’s been abiding by your request of staying quiet about any of the specifics.

And it’s been hard. Oversharing is kind of his thing, usually, and keeping information from his brothers isn’t exactly something he loves doing, not when he’s been cursing Jack all summer for doing the same.

“Jack thinks she’s using me. He doesn’t like her.”

“Jack doesn’t like that he can’t beat her. Like he can fire a thousand shots at her and nothing goes in, he isn’t used to that.”

“Oh, but I am?” Luke scoffs, although he isn’t entirely sure if he is offended. “Are you calling me a loser?”

“No, Luke, I’m not calling you a loser.” He chuckles. “It’s like hockey, right, you and me, we chase people down. Don’t give in until we’re caught up and we can disarm someone. That isn’t Jack’s game. He’s usually the one being chased, you know? Usually the one ahead.”

“He’s not that bad on the other side of the blue line,” Luke scoffs, although he gets where his eldest brother is coming from. He hasn’t really thought about it in that context - that you and Jack don’t get along because you’re alike - but it makes sense now that he thinks about it.

“He’s not like you, though. You get some weird thrill out of going after people you have no business going after, you have since you were younger, taking down kids 4 or 5 years older than you and twice the size for fun. Makes sense you’d want someone so far out of your league.”

Luke looks back over to where you’re still stood with Cara, and just manages to catch your eye before you look away, pretending he hadn’t caught you. The smile erupts slowly onto his features, close-lipped and soft, but he feels the joy of it all throughout his body. 

“I think I’m wearing her down.”

Stolen glances across whatever room the two of you happen to be in, smiles that you’ve only ever sent his way, feather-light but purposeful kisses on the corner of his mouth when you think he’s asleep, seeking him out in his bathroom after seeing him with someone else - yeah, he’s getting there.

“Good for you, Luke,” Quinn chuckles, patting his brother on the back, “As long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

He does. At least he thinks so. 

You feel weird.

It’s the only word you can think to describe the mood you’ve been in for the past week.

Well, weird and off.

You can’t quite put your finger on it, either, but it’s throwing you off your game. 

There had been a second the other day where you had thought you might have gotten to the bottom of things - when you’d come inside from sunbathing with Ellie and had found Luke in his room, packing a bag for his trip to Vegas for some award ceremony he and Quinn were nominated for. 

Clarity had hit you like a brick to the head, panic swirling in your chest at the thought of him being gone for a whole week, but then he’d looked up from where he was perched on the ground, had given you a lopsided grin, and had ushered you over to help - and the speed in which you had started to feel normal again quickly diminished any thoughts of Luke being the cause of your weirdness.

But it has been hard to shake, even as unidentifiable as it may be, and the longer you feel this way, the worse it gets, bubbling up like anxiety that keeps your jaw tight, and your lips pressed together.

It culminates the night of the boys’ party - a celebration of Quinn and Luke’s nominations, and a good luck send-off of sorts that Jack had wanted to throw before they left. 

You had started the night off fine - kind of attached at Luke’s hip, him muttering teasing remarks into your ear about you clinging to him ‘cause you’re gonna miss him when he’s gone, and catching up with a couple of the guys from Michigan. You might have even been having fun at one point, smiling into the red cup Luke had placed in your hand at the beginning of the night that you still hadn’t drained, as you watched him shoot pool and he kept smirking up at you as he leant over the table.

You shouldn’t be feeling anxious when he looks at you like that, but God, do you feel something.

And then your phone starts to buzz in your pocket, and assuming it’s Ellie, who, once again, is away with her family - this time in Europe for a couple of weeks - you pull it out.

But it isn’t Ellie.

It’s your dad.

And the heart that had been thudding in your chest at the mere capture of Luke’s attention just moments ago, is now dropping out of your ass.

It isn’t a call, thank God - you don’t think you could handle that, feeling the way you currently feel - but an email.

Your dad hasn’t called in a while. He rarely texts, either.

This is how it is, now. Emails and Facebook posts you happen to come across, like you’re some distant co-worker or an old family friend.

Not his only daughter. Not the kid he abandoned in search of a better life.

When you open it up, there’s no subject, no body either to the email, just an attachment. 

A family photo, him, his new wife, and their two boys, stood in front of the Eiffel Tower, edited into a postcard that reads, Wish You Were Here!

And resentment bubbles within you.

I could have been, if you’d have invited me.

You shove your phone back into your pocket and do a quick glance around the room to check if anyone might have noticed the tears welling in your eyes, but you’re safe. 

Luke’s attention is on the table, the rest of the boys’ attention is on him, and you slip away before he has the chance to meet your eye - to see straight through you in the way only he knows how, and make your way to the kitchen in the search of something stronger.

When you push your way through the door, whatever weird feeling that has been consuming you for the past week culminates into something bigger.

Something darker, and heavier, and angrier, like a tornado of emotions tearing through your very core, picking up every last bit of restraint on it’s way as your eyes narrow onto it’s next target.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Jack pulls back in a daze from the blonde who’s face he was just suctioned to, brows furrowed as his intoxicated gaze zeroes in on you.

He slurs out your name, glaring like he’s trying to get his eyes to focus before they roll dramatically, and he runs a hand through his messy hair.

“Jesus, what do you want?”

“Maybe for you to have some respect, or is that a little too much to ask?”

“Could you give us a minute?” He asks the girl in front of him, who scowls at you before walking off, shouldering past you to exit the kitchen as you stare Jack down. “Why are you being such a psycho?”

“I’m sick of you messing Ellie around, Hughes, I’m not gonna just stand around and let you play with her heart like she means nothing to you anymore.”

“She’s not even here,” he scoffs, “She won’t find out unless you tell her.”

“And you think I won’t? She’s my friend, Jack, we tell each other everything.”

“Yeah? She tell you how she’s into Cole?”

“No. Because she isn’t.” You’d cleared that up with her a while ago, asking her straight up if something was going on - and she had said no. She wouldn’t lie to you.

“Then why do I keep getting told that she is? Why is everyone seeing them out together all the time? Why is she texting him tonight and not me?”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re making it your mission to stick your tongue down other girls throats all the time. This entire summer, you’ve done nothing but avoid your feelings so much that maybe she thinks you’re not into her. Maybe you need to pull your head out of your ass and talk to her like a grown fucking adult and stop playing stupid games with her heart.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“And you should be fucking listening. If you keep messing her around, you’ll lose her for good,” you threaten, with a jab of a pointed finger into his chest.

Jack looks flushed, cheeks pink, lips puffy, eyes red-rimmed and hair a mess as he looks back at you - and it’s like he’s functioning in slow motion, you can practically see the cogs turning in his inebriated brain as he comes up with some way to jab back, some way to make you hurt the way the thought of Ellie leaving does to him, just to avoid admitting you’re right.

“What, like how you keep messing my brother around?” 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, stepping back when he jabs a finger at you.

“You heard me,” he snarls, “Leading him on like some lovesick puppy while you couldn’t care less about him.”

“Is that what he said?”

“No, funnily enough he won’t even talk to me about you,” Jack’s glare sends a shiver down your spine, one that overrides the buzz of pride at him following your instruction - you know this level of animosity comes from the swirling of intoxication and frustration, he doesn’t actually hate you, the two of you have gotten on somewhat in the past couple of weeks, despite him making out otherwise, but this is different. This makes you feel small, like a speck of something fragile, ready to be stomped and crushed under his irate foot. And it’s not the kind of small you usually like. The kind of small where you compare yourself to the bigger picture. No, this hurts. Aches. Itches in a way that you need to relieve, immediately. “But I bet that’s your doing, because that’s how toxic you are, making it so he can’t even confide in his brother about his feelings. Feelings that you just want to stampede all over like they’re nothing. Break his heart like it’s some kind of sport.”

That isn’t true. 

That’s not who you are.

That’s not what you’re doing, not what you want.

You know how it feels to have someone break your heart like that, you’d never do that to Luke.

“Go fuck yourself, Jack.” Is all you can mutter out in defence of yourself before you’re shouldering past him, barging through the uninterested crowd and stomping out of the kitchen.

You think it’s the need to feel bigger that has you poking your head into every room in search of him - the person who had ingrained the notion of needing to feel bigger to feel better to your memory - only able to find comfort in a mop of messy curls that sits on top of a head higher than the rest. It’s what has you grasping at his hand when you do find him outside on the deck, dragging him wordlessly - and thankfully enough, without protest - back through the rest of his house, and to his room before you push him down onto the bed, instructing him to move up and sit against the headboard before you straddle his lap.

You kiss away his questions, fingers clumsily working at the buttons of his shirt until you can tear it off, swallowing down his confusion into your own mouth as he shrinks into your advances.

When you start to grind down into him is when he gains back some level of consciousness, large hands grasping at your waist and pushing until your lips part with a loud smack. And you’re both breathless, panting against each others mouths as he tries to figure you out, looking up at you with a furrowed brow and swollen lips.

“What’s going on?” He asks, eyes darting around you in concern.

Concern that makes you feel larger than life - makes your chest expand and your heart swell and your lungs fill with so much air that you feel like you might float away. To have someone look at you like that, care about you like that, want you for more than what bare bones you’re offering to him, what everyone else wants you for, it makes you feel gigantic.

Like a hot air balloon, carried to far away lands by the flames of his affections.

And if they shut off, you’ll drop into oblivion. Breaking suddenly from the airy mechanics that keep you afloat, plunging at great speeds until you inevitably hit the earth with an almighty, painful splat.

You never did like falling.

“I want you.”

His face scrunches a little as he thinks - thinks a little too hard for someone who’s been pursuing you all summer - and before he can question it, you reach for the hem of your top, pulling it off until you’re left in just your lacy bra, your skirt riding up as your legs fall to either side of his hips.

It’s the most you’ve ever given him aside from being around him in your bikini and the one time you had changed and he hadn’t turned around quick enough, and before you can feel self conscious about it, you feel his eyes rake down the long expanse of your bare skin.

And the way he looks at you now makes you feel even bigger - a hunger in his eyes that tells you he could spend the rest of his time on earth working his way through every inch of you, savouring whatever parts of you that you’ll let him get a taste of, and he’ll never let you go.

“Please?” You’re already technically on your knees, what harm can begging do if it just makes him do something?

You don’t want to talk about it like you know he’s about to ask, don’t want to have to explain why you sought him out, why, for once, you didn’t care that people might see the two of you holding hands, you marching him to his bedroom and him following like exactly what Jack had said - a lovesick puppy.

You just want him. Want to feel bigger. Want to feel wanted. 

Want to give in to the part of you that has been dying to fold to him all summer, to let him close that gap, to break down the barriers you’ve been desperately guarding.

He cranes his neck to press a sweet kiss to your lips - one lacking the intensity from before, but not the adoration he always manages to pack in there - the kind that twists at your gut until you can’t take it anymore.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, kissing him again. “Give me something to hold onto when you’re gone.”

You figure if you use his own words against him - words uttered teasingly, but truthfully, earlier - he’ll give in.

The thought of losing this, of him leaving and finding something better, of distance being wedged between you for the first time all summer and finally giving him clarity, making him see you for what everyone else thinks you are.

Maybe if you give him what he really wants he’ll hold on a little longer.

It’s not like you don’t want it, too.

“You only had the one drink?” He asks, responding with fervour, the pressure of his kiss starting to build. “The one I got you?”

“Didn’t even finish it,” you kiss him again, “Stone cold sober,” and again, fingers trailing between you to work at the button on his jeans, “Want you now.”

“Yeah,” he lifts his hips and helps you pull his pants down, a clumsy shuffle to temporarily part while he wriggles them off, “Want you, too.” He mutters before leaning in to kiss at the corner of your mouth, “Wanted you for so long.”

There’s a voice inside that itches to tell him, I know, but it’s quickly shut up by another - a voice that’s louder, a voice you can’t ignore anymore when it comes to Luke.

A voice that tells you, you know nothing.

[bengiyo]

BL 2024 Review

It’s been another year of BL. I wrote a review of 2023 and 2022, and I find myself struggling to write about this year. I feel like I had some incredible projects that I connected with this year, but I also found myself far more bored and frustrated with certain things than I was expecting. The most disheartening thing this year for me was the drop off in the number of quality Korean productions, and the end of my patience with Thai BL squandering viewer time and attention. Let’s get into some of the big ideas.

Japan is Still Here

Last year I commented that a third of all Japanese BL I had ever watched came out in 2023. We got even more this year, and we had longer runtimes! This is good for the kind of viewer I am. I find that I enjoy Japanese shows more often than any other BL-producing country, and they held down the bulk of my watching for the year.

This year I was blessed with two shows tackling a similar premise (actors falling for each other as they film a BL) and they were both good! I loved I Became The Main Role of a BL Drama so much, and we’re getting a sequel in 2025! I wasn’t sure if I would enjoy a moodier take on this premise when At 25:00 in Akasaka showed up, but I ended up enjoying that, too!

I properly watched Ossan’s Love and The Novelist at the start of this year, and I’m so glad I did, because goddamn did I enjoy Ossan’s Love Returns.

I also remain thankful for Tadaima Okaeri and Twilight Out of Focus for giving us worthwhile BL anime.

I'm thankful for Perfect Propose for giving me a man in his mid-20s leaving his horrible job after getting fed and jerked off by an old friend.

I'm thankful for Takara no Vidro for unpacking obsession in a relationship and solving it with healthy communication.

Finally, I'm thankful for Love is Like a Poison for blending a legal drama with a BL so effortlessly, and making it such a fun ride. I love that Shiba Ryoma can't fight for shit and was so down bad for his man.

The Cross-Cultural Adaptations Brought Out Great Discussion

I was glad we got Cherry Magic Thailand and My Love Mix Up Thailand this year in the order in which we got them. It was useful because they both came from GMMTV, and I had opposite reactions to both. I loved what they did with Cherry Magic, and stand by what I said on the podcast that I think it’s the best version of Cherry Magic (even if the anime is my favorite). This was useful, because I was really put off by the attempt at My Love Mix Up, and think they got a lot wrong. I’m glad the good show came first so I didn’t feel like I was being a Japanese version stan.

Adapting from danmei, I really wanted to like My Stand In, but bounced off the show not taking the horror of Joe’s situation seriously. Moreover, I think the commerce of the BL pair required them to soften and redeem Up’s character in a way that felt disingenuous for me. I wanted that man to be unhinged and far more toxic than they portrayed him. If this is the trend, I’d rather Thai teams invested in BL pair commerce avoid toxic danmei in the future.

In Taiwan, I was so impressed with Unknown. Despite the missteps on the sexual turn, that was one of the most engaging dramas we had within the genre this year. I was impressed at how seriously they took their family dynamics. That being said, Meet Me at the Blossom didn’t land for me. I would very much like to see a wuxia BL that hits for me without the dubious and non-consensual bits.

Over in Japan, I don’t think I’m enjoying Our Youth that much, and I wonder about whether certain aspects of the source material didn’t translate properly with some of the changes I’ve seen mentioned by viewers. It’s been a difficult experience, because I loved the scene of Minase fleeing Hirukawa’s room, but the show has really lost its emotional core for me.

However, I actually really enjoyed the Japanese version of Love in the Air, and think MeMindY timed this well with The Boy Next World starting right as the last episode of Love in the Air Japan finishes. It was clear to me that the Thai team was involved in the adaptation, and that the makers of the Japanese version loved LITA. I think both versions bring out something noteworthy in the characters, and I hope that the show is successful so we get more work from MeMindY as a result of the connections made here, because it’s clear that the money situation in Thailand might not be so hot right now.

Thai and Korean Money Must Be Drying Up

We’ve been wondering when the BL peak would hit and the decline would begin, and I think we’re starting to see some of those changes. I worry about how little we got from Korea this year, despite three incredible showings from Love for Love’s Sake, Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo, and Love in the Big City. Beyond those three, I don’t really feel like anyone missed out that much on the other offerings (maybe Time of Fever, but I have qualms with that show).

Beyond that, I remain worried about how much talent has consolidated at GMMTV. It’s a worrisome sign that they continue to gobble up all of the talent. Regardless of personal tastes for a particular brand of BGP (business gay performance), it’s pretty bad for all of us when one corporation is the only one making money on boys kissing each other (@respectthepetty).

Despite how much Thai BL I dropped, I did genuinely enjoy the relationship and friendship dynamics of Cooking Crush, Knock Knock Boys, Love Sea, and The Trainee.

The Gay Things I Loved

Enough musing. Let’s just talk about other things that I loved. This is the section where I beg you to watch the gay things that matter to me, and not just the boys whose IG reels get reposted here.

I absolutely loved the entire experience of the Love in the Big City book club. When @lurkingshan pitched the idea, I had no idea how many people would earnestly participate, that Anton Hur would share his time with us, or that the show would actually be so good. LITBC was so good that conservative Koreans protested its airing. I loved everything we did this year around that book and show, and wanna say thanks again to everyone who engaged with us.

I also adored Marahuyo Project. I love that ANIMA Studios didn’t end after Like in the Movies. JP Habac came back with a banger. That show said it was LGBTQIA+ and it meant it with its whole heart. I really loved this show as a true examination of the evolving landscape of youth queerness in the modern era more than anything else I watched this year. Go watch it.

I did not expect a show about a reformed misogynist to be my favorite show of the year, but here I am still begging all of you to watch Don’t Care For An Old Man’s Underwear! (@isaksbestpillow)This show made me cry every single week because of how good every moment hit. I have rarely experienced such an immense feeling of compassion as I received from this show.

In 2022, we watched She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat, and we wondered if NHK would come back and finish what they started, and goddamn did they deliver. I think about Nomoto and Kasuga about as much as I think about Shiro and Kenji (What Did You Eat Yesterday?) now, and if Japan doesn’t figure out a way for both of those couples to meet, I will be forever disappointed. Go watch it. (@furritsubs)

Finally, I will be forever thinking about the confession through the wall in Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo, how they intercut the youth and adult sex, and the way Dohoe apologized to Hyeonho. Hwang Da Seul finally got all of the pieces right here. She loves to see a couple get back together after a big separation, and she succeeded here. This show earned its youth romance, and earned its reunion. She understands how important it is for gay people to stop trapping each other. We threw that cross in the trash, and cried because of Yahoo answers. We all won.

My Tastes are Changing

Last year I engaged with about 99 productions. This year it’s under 75 with 26 that I didn’t finish. I hesitate to say that the genre is getting worse, when I feel like things are where they’ve been for a long time. However, it’s clear that I’m changing and am less interested in seeing what I deem to be weak attempts at familiar storytelling tropes.

I think what I’ve noticed the most about my tastes changing is that it’s making me write less. The fandom has contracted dramatically on Tumblr, and I find myself growing distant from the predominant reactions. With there being less people to vibe with, I’ve been reacting less in real time. Despite that, I hope to continue posting round ups with my BL blurbs and @the-conversation-pod.

All in all, 2024 is a difficult year for me. I think I enjoyed BL less overall, but the things I did enjoy I enjoyed more than previous years. It’s a difficult space for me to navigate, because I think this is actually what I wanted. I will continue to appreciate that the BL genre enables the funding for the big gay projects that I love. So, even if I think GMMTV going literally all-in on BL is going to lead to a ton of garbage, I still remain hopeful that the homos with something interesting to say can make the projects they want.

[voyaging-too]

I can't speak of resumes because I probably haven't written enough of them to know, but I've sent and received enough work e-mails to have an opinion.

I would very much prefer my co-workers to send me e-mails they've actually written, because that way there's a higher likelihood that it will actually contain the information they want me to have and which I need to have. I would like information to go from A to B without passing through a black box first, this isn't about art or soul, it's about me having clear answers about when I can expect X contractor to finish Y task. (If they use AI but then they proofread it adequately so that there's no information loss, sure, whatever, that's fine, but it probably took longer than writing the e-mail in the first place.)

If one more person sends me subpar machine translation for copy-editing like that's a normal thing to do, I'll... not actually do anything that would cost me my job, but I'll be really, really tired of their shit.

can you guys at least try to pick a more worthy target than emails and job applications. like if you want anyone to take you seriously can you maybe choose a slightly less universally despised and miserable busywork task. just a thought from the sidelines. like at least when you were all obsessed with bemoaning the death of the soul of art we could talk about duchamp’s urinal and have a good laugh. this is just pathetic. won’t someone please think of the emails

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Never Gonna Be Alone - Part Three

Summary: When a friend from college contacts you about renting out your spare bedroom to her brother, you aren't really sure what to expect.

Pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: ~4.5k

Author's Note: Writing has been kicking my ass lately! Happy new year!

Warnings for the entire series: language, drug & alcohol use, sex, possible angst, pining & yearning, miscommunication, bit of a slow burn, and a lot of fluff, plus me attempting to be a comedian.

Masterlist | Playlist

You said, “I’m not in love with him!” Practically shouted it, flopping face-first onto your bed with the grace of a falling tree. The mattress let out a pitiful creaking noise beneath your weight as if it, too, was tired of your antics. Your best friend watched the tantrum via FaceTime, amused as she propped her head on her hand and quirked an eyebrow. Then, noticing her expression, you vehemently followed that up with, “I’m not!” 

She hummed in response, “Maybe if you say it enough times, it’ll stick, but I doubt it.”

Your eyes nearly got stuck from how hard you rolled them. There was no way that you were going to convince her when you couldn’t even convince yourself, though, you were damn sure going to try. “If I am so in love with him, then why do I find him so annoying?” 

“Oh, now he’s annoying?” She asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Please tell me more.”

“Yes, annoying, it’s honestly kind of suspicious,” you could tell she wasn’t buying it, but you pressed on regardless. “I mean, it’s weird, like how thoughtful he is– who does that? He picks up after himself, he always leaves me the last slice of pizza, he asks about my day and then actually listens to what I have to say. It’s completely unnerving!” 

Your friend pursed and twisted her lips to the side to hide her growing smirk.

“Why are you smiling?” You asked, expression bewildered. Her’s remained unchanged. “This isn’t funny, I’m being serious. He’s ruining my life!”

“By being nice to you?” she asked, still laughing. 

You flipped onto your back with a groan and flung an arm over your eyes, as though shielding yourself from the truth, “Yes, by being nice to me! I wish that he just… wouldn’t! He’s my roommate. I’m not in love with him, okay? I can’t be. If this goes sideways, I’m fucked. I can’t exactly afford to burn this bridge.” 

She snorted, “So this is about rent now, got it.” 

You sat up in bed, ready to retaliate, but the familiar jingle of keys and the soft click of the deadbolt froze you in place. Your cheeks burned, a maroon blush creeping up your neck, as you became suddenly aware of just how thin the walls were in this godforsaken building– and just how loud your conversation had been. 

As you moved to shut your bedroom door, your pulse was irritatingly noticeable as it drummed in your ears, skipping beats loud enough that your neighbors were sure to hear. And then Aegon stepped out of the foyer and into view, and you hesitated, the door only halfway closed as you took in the sight of him; perpetually handsome, with a paper grocery bag tucked under his arm, as he kicked off his shoes and dropped his keys on the side table by the front door. 

“Hey,” he said softly, catching your eye before giving the bag a little lift. “I stopped at the store on the way home so that you didn’t ‘ave to. Picked up everythin’ on the list.” 

“Oh, thanks,” you replied, praying that your voice didn’t betray the way your pulse was still hammering against your rib cage. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I was already out,” his lips pulled into a downward smile as he shrugged nonchalantly, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to still. His gaze lingered just longer than necessary, sending a ripple of awareness through you, making you straighten your posture. “Well, anyway, didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“You didn’t,” the words tumbled from your lips quickly, probably too quickly, betraying your seemingly calm facade– when internally, you were on the verge of imploding. Before you had the chance to embarrass yourself, you gave him a tight-lipped smile and moved towards the door to escape. “Just talking to a friend. I’ll see you later for Helaena’s art show?”

Aegon nodded, shifting his weight as though he had more to say, but before he could, you shut the door– not harshly, just enough to put some needed distance between you. The moment the door clicked into place, you turned, pressing your back against it and taking a deep breath to steady yourself. Your eyes were glued to the ceiling as if it held the answers as to why you somehow managed to overthink your way into making a fool of yourself every time he glanced in your direction. Sure, it probably wasn’t as bad as you were making it out to be, but what if it was? 

“Um, hello?” Your friend's voice reverberated through the phone, reminding you that she was still a part of this moment. Out of habit, you rolled your eyes as you held the phone back out in front of your face. “Glad to know I’m totally interruptible.” 

“Shut up,” you sighed and flung yourself back on your bed. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait!” She exclaimed quickly before you could end the call. “I just have to ask, honey, do you always look that flustered when you talk to him, or was that a special performance just for me?” 

As she began laughing, you promptly hung up, jabbing the screen with your finger aggressively before face planting into your pillow with a dramatic grunt. Meanwhile, you could still hear Aegon paddling around in the kitchen, the faint sound of him putting things away; that soft, almost rhythmic rustling. It was comforting, picturing him with his sleeves pushed up around his elbows as he washed the dishes or the simple autonomic task of sorting through the junk mail or recycling. 

You truly hated thinking about it, because why torture yourself? As much as you fantasized about living in this perfect little bubble with Aegon forever, as much as you would love to continue on just like you were for the rest of your lives, you knew that eventually this would come to an end. Eventually, someone would move on and start a life somewhere else, most likely with someone else. You’ll settle for always having to put someone’s shoes away and putting the seat down yourself, and he’ll meet someone smarter and more successful. 

And for the rest of your life, you’ll always wonder. 

You held up in your room for the rest of the evening, not wanting to face him (or give yourself an opportunity to word vomit all of your affections) until you absolutely had to, and you did absolutely have to– otherwise fake an excuse to get out of going to Helaena’s first art show, and you couldn’t do that. When you finally emerged from your room, Aegon was already waiting for you, sitting back on the couch, scrolling through his phone with one arm draped lazily over the backrest. He was wearing a simple, dark green button up with the sleeves rolled back a couple of times around his forearms– allowing his tattoos to peak out just slightly– and a pair of black shorts.

It was physically impossible not to stare, but you tried your hardest. 

He glanced up as you crossed the living room, his lips twitching into a crooked smile as he stood up and slipped his phone into his pocket, “Thought you might’ve ditched me.” 

“Not a chance,” you replied with forced confidence.

Aegon grabbed his keys off of the side table and spun them around his index finger before he opened the front door; the warm, late summer breeze inviting you out into the night, “Shall we?”

The bar was tucked away on a quiet corner. A little slice of originality and warmth in the middle of the city. It didn’t scream luxury– which you typically associated with the Targaryen name– but it did have its own charm; low, cozy lighting, secondhand furniture, and walls adorned with local art. There was something real about the space, with its twinkling string lights and lingering scent of leather. It may not have been what you were expecting, but it didn’t take long to realize how perfectly it fit Helaena’s down-to-earth vibe.

Your date-for-the-night slipped off to the bar as you slipped in between intricate displays of artwork. Helaena’s primary talent was embroidery, but what was unique about her work is that she tied the embroidery into her paintings. One piece in particular caught your eye– an almost surreal depiction of a city at dusk with buildings that blurred into one another and golden threads that pulled your gaze upwards towards a beaded night sky. 

A few moments passed as you stood there, staring at the artwork, utterly mesmerized, until you could feel Aegon’s presence beside you. His footsteps were quiet, but you had become accustomed to the gravitational pull that seemed to follow him over the last few months. When you glanced over to him, his eyes were glued to the painting, expression unreadable.

“This the one?” He asked, handing you a glass of wine before taking a swig of his bottled IPA. 

“The one?” Your brows knitted together as you looked at him.

“For the flat,” his head tilted to the side and he had a playful glint in his eye. “Personally, I think we need something on the wall by the window.”

His casual use of the word ‘we’ sent a flutter straight to your chest; a warmth blooming behind your ribs. For a brief, dizzying moment, you pictured leaning in and kissing him right there in the middle of the bar as if he had just gotten down on one knee and proposed to you– yes, we can decorate our apartment together! The mental image was so vivid that it made your cheeks flush. Quickly, you masked the momentary lapse by taking a deliberate sip of wine and letting its tartness refocus your thoughts as you glanced back at the artwork in front of you. 

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how empty that wall is,” he continued after a few moments of silence. “It’s borderline depressing.” 

A small laugh escaped your lips, “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about wall art.”

He shrugged, leaning in to examine the painting more closely. “Look, as your roommate, I’m just trying to help. We can’t have people comin’ over and thinking we lack taste.”

There’s that word again.

“Mm, so this is about your reputation,” you teased, turning slightly to face him.

“Obviously,” he deadpanned, though the corner of his mouth twitched, “You think I want to live in a place that screams College Dorm Chic? No offense.”

“None taken,” you shook your head and bit back a smile. “But I’ll have you know I graduated from that aesthetic years ago.”

“Oh, my apologies,” he said with mock sincerity, holding his hands up defensively. “What I meant to say was ‘recently post-grad but still shopping for furniture in the discount aisle’, better?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your pulse continued to quicken with every word he spoke. “You’re so generous with your compliments. Truly, it’s a gift.” He shrugged in response and you took another sip of your wine. “But what makes this the one?”

“Because of the way you look at it,” he said without missing a beat. 

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and rendering you speechless. Your lips parted, but no clever retort came to mind. Instead, you glanced back at the piece, searching for some grounding in its soft brush strokes before you could launch yourself into a full panic attack. 

Almost on queue, Helaena’s voice cut through the quiet tension with an exuberant squeal. You flinched as the spell was suddenly broken, and took a step back instinctively. Aegon’s jaw tightened for the briefest second before he turned toward his sister as she appeared out of the crowd with a bright smile and her usual buoyant energy, completely oblivious to what she was interrupting. 

“You made it,” Helaena exclaimed as she collided with her brother in a tight embrace. Her eyes clamped shut as she squeezed him, and you could see how much it meant to her that he was there. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

Aegon stepped back, checking his watch with furrowed brows, “You said eight o’clock.”

Helaena grinned, completely unfazed, “Seven.” Aegon rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything more, Helaena turned to you. “I’m so glad you’re here!” She pulled you into a tight hug, her energy infectious. “You look amazing!”

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled warmly at her compliment. “Sorry we were late.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it from this one,” she nudged her brother in the ribs. “He’ll be late to his own funeral one day.”

“And better off for it,” he interjected. 

Somewhere in the bar, you hear someone call Helaena’s name. She turns her attention to the crowd and sticks her hand up in the air, waving enthusiastically at a group of people standing near the bar, “Well, now that you’re here, there’s someone I want you to meet!” 

Aegon groans and throws his head back, “Stop trying to pimp me out to your friends, I’m not interested!” 

“Since when?” She laughs, her excitement on the brim of bubbling over as she grabbed her brother’s arm and tugged him toward the far side of the room.

As she led him away, Aegon glanced back at you, his eyes catching yours for a fleeting second. You smiled softly at him and tried not to think too much about it, but there was something there– a flicker of something unfinished. And then, he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd, leaving you standing there with your thoughts and the phantom weight of regret. 

You exhaled slowly, gripping the stem of your wine glass a little tighter as you downed what was left with a hefty gulp. For the majority of the evening you lingered on the outskirts of other people’s conversations, mingling with people you’d seen once or twice on campus; doing anything you could to keep your attention averted from Aegon, from the way he looked at you, from the way he looked right through you. Every now and again your eyes would find their way back to where he was, the center of attention, standing too close to one of Helaena’s pretty friends. 

You wondered if you looked at him the same way she was right now, if it was that obvious. 

What clearly wasn’t obvious enough was how uninterested you were in talking about the stock market with Greg– or maybe it was Craig– from your Urban Environmentalism class who had ‘always wanted to strike up a conversation but never had the guts’ (his words), but clearly found them after his third beer. When the topic turned to politics, however, you politely excused yourself and made a beeline for the restroom before you wound up with a headache from the unsolicited TED Talk on the nuances of trickle-down economics. 

You exhaled deeply as you locked yourself in a stall, crashing out on the toilet with a pathetic groan as you held your head in your hands, staring at the cracks in the tiled floor. 

Suddenly you’re filled with regret, not knowing that agreeing to be his plus one to his sister’s art show would inadvertently make you the odd woman out; watching him charm everyone in the room while you hovered on the edges, trying not to be too obvious about the way your eyes gravitated towards him every few moments. Maybe you should have just said no and saved yourself the torment of playing out every scenario of how this night would end– Aegon stumbling home with that girl, their quiet colloquies echoing through your thin walls, sitting in your bed forced to listen to her stifled sighs knowing it should be you in her place. 

After a long breath and a lot of internal monologue, you stood and straightened your outfit before you stepped out of the stall. You aren’t exactly sure how long you’d been using the bathroom as your personal sanctuary, but the small line of impatient girls with fixed frowns waiting outside suggested it had been long enough. You gave them a short but polite smile as an apology and reluctantly joined the party once more, only the air felt much heavier now; the mixture of pop music and laughter started to grate on your nerves quickly. 

I need a drink.

You headed towards the bar with purpose, avoiding eye contact with the groups of people you passed, hoping that no one would try and rope you into another unbearable conversation. The bartender noticed you immediately and gave you a silent nod, letting you know he was working on it. While you waited, a familiar voice drifted over the noise, drawing your attention despite your better judgement. Aegon stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the bar with his back to you. 

“Let me get this straight,” it was Helaena’s voice. “You’ve met someone?” 

Immediately, the weight in the pit of your stomach that you’d thought was regret started to feel a lot more like nausea. Maybe that fourth glass of wine had been a mistake—or maybe it was exactly what you needed to brace yourself for what was coming next. Your fingers tapped anxiously against the bartop as you waited for the bartender to set the glass in front of you, silently willing him to move faster. If he did, maybe you wouldn’t have to hear it.

Aegon laughed softly, the sound low and almost self-deprecating, “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“My apologies,” Helaena chortled. “So you’re really putting your life of debauchery to an end, huh? I don’t have to worry about you breaking any more of my friend’s hearts?”

“Somethin' like that,” he replied, voice casual, though there was a faint edge that wasn’t lost on you.

There was a pause in their conversation; brief, but long enough to stretch the tension in the air. You held your breath without realizing it, straining to catch every word over the lull of the crowd and music. Finally, the bartender set your glass in front of you, and you quickly fished your card out of your purse to settle your tab, needing something– anything– to keep your hands busy and not look completely obvious.

“It’s… new,” Aegon said finally, his tone softer, almost uncertain. “I don’t even know if it’s goin' anywhere yet.” He hesitated, the weight of his words pressing down even from where you stood. “But she’s different. Makes me think maybe I could,  y’know, actually figure my shit out.”

The confession hit like a sucker punch, knocking the air out of your lungs. You gripped the stem of your glass tightly, your heart racing as you tried to parse through the tangle of emotions swelling in your chest as you anxiously waited for the bartender to produce your receipt.

“Fuck,” you could hear the surprise in her tone. “You know I’m rooting for you, always, but whoever she is I sure hope she knows what she’s getting into.” 

The words stung, not because they were untrue, but because you knew that in some twisted way, Helaena was right. Whoever this girl was, she would never be you. You were just his roommate– the clutz who twisted her ankle the first day you met, who’s constantly locked up in her room knitting and reading all the time, and got ghosted in the middle of a date. You weren’t sure what Aegon’s type was, but it almost certainly wasn‘t that. The thought alone made your chest tighten, your body burning with the need to either run or confront him– neither of which felt like an option right now.

You slip away into the crowd, weaving between the exhibit spaces until you find a quiet corner tucked between the artwork, where the paintings bear witness to your turmoil. Eventually, you find your way back to the painting you’d been admiring earlier, the one that had seemed so perfect, so out of reach. But now, the spot where it had once hung is empty, a small placard reading SOLD in bold letters in its place.

A sigh slips from your lips before you can catch it, and you stand there for a moment longer than necessary, just staring at the empty wall where something beautiful used to be. You couldn’t even begin to describe what that painting had meant to you– maybe it was just the idea of something unreachable, something that wasn’t meant for you. You swallowed the bitterness that rose in your throat, unable to stop the frustration from seeping into your veins. 

The artwork was gone, just like the illusion that tonight might somehow end in your favor.

And then you heard his voice. 

A little too loud, a little too carefree. You didn’t even have to look to know it was Aegon. The slur in his voice was unmistakable, “I’m fucking starving.” 

Without a word, he leaned into your side, swaying slightly as he did. You could feel the warmth of him, his body still a little too close for comfort, yet somehow the intimacy of it all felt right, despite everything.

“You’re fucking drunk,” you said, unable to hide the humor in your voice. You shoved him playfully off of you, but he barely budged, his grin lazy.

“Let’s go home,” he said, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. His lips quirked into that charming smile you could never resist. “How do you feel about Jade Garden? I’d kill for a crab rangoon right about now.”

The corners of your mouth twitched upward, and for a moment, the heavy weight of the night lifted, replaced by a fleeting sense of normalcy. You didn’t have the energy to fight it, to argue with him or deny the fact that, despite the wreckage of the evening, part of you wanted to crawl into the familiar comfort of his presence and stay there for as long as he allowed. 

“Say less,” you replied, grinning as the tiredness settled over you again. “I’m going to run to the restroom and I’ll meet you outside?” 

Aegon gave you a lazy nod, the kind that made you wonder if he was really paying attention, but you were too drunk to question it. You took your time, giving yourself a moment to regroup. By the time you stepped out into the cool air on the sidewalk, the tension in your chest had thankfully softened a bit. The streetlights were warm and quiet, casting long shadows on the ground as the soft drone of city noise welcomes you into the night. 

They were standing outside the bar, sharing a cigarette; lithe figures swaying slightly as they shared a quiet, tipsy conversation. Helaena’s laughter cut through the cool night air, her head tilted back, while Aegon’s smile softened, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. You hung back, taking slow, deliberate steps, giving them their space.

“Thank you for coming,” Helaena said, her voice sincere with that raw honesty. She pulled him into a lingering hug. “You’ve always been there for me, and it means more than you know.”

Aegon gave a half-hearted chuckle, his voice soft but teasing. “If you start crying–”

“I’m not going to cry,” she interrupted, breathless with the weight of her emotions. “I just love you, you twat. And because I love you, I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice. You need to call him, Aegon.”

He rolled his eyes, his grin faltering for just a second. “I’m not interested in anythin' he has to say.” But his expression immediately shifted when he caught sight of you approaching. He gave you a nod, trying to shift his tone. “Hey, you ready?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled softly and turned your attention to Helaena. “It was great to see you!”

“Aw, thank you again for coming,” she wrapped her arms tightly around your shoulders and then pulled away. Her gaze shifted between the two of you and then her smile widened, “Take care of this one, for me?” 

“I will certainly try my best,” you smirked.

Without another word, Helaena bounced back into the bar, disappearing quickly within the crowd, leaving you and Aegon alone.

He tossed his cigarette to the ground and snubbed it out with his foot. The lingering smell of smoke hung in the air around you as the moment settled, the cool night wrapping around you like a familiar coat. It felt quieter now that it was just the two of you, but not in an uncomfortable way. The kind of quiet where you could actually hear your thoughts instead of pushing them aside, and you weren’t sure if that was necessarily a good thing after everything you had seen and heard earlier. 

You wanted to ask him about this mystery person that he's met, but you couldn’t without it sounding like, ‘hey, I was totally eavesdropping on your conversation with Helaena and heard you met someone, please tell me who it is so that I can stalk her on Instagram later’. Okay, that thought you could totally push aside before letting it eat you alive. 

Aegon cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly under your gaze. “So, Jade Garden?” he asked, his tone lighter now, the casualness back, as if nothing in the world had just been turned upside down. 

“Yeah,” you said softly, voice steady.

He stepped to the side casually, grabbing something that he had propped against the building and tucking it under his arm. You recognized the shape instantly; a canvas, wrapped in brown paper to protect the artwork underneath. When his eyes met yours, there was something quietly triumphant in his gaze, and a small, mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips, as if he were both proud of his subtle gesture and waiting for you to catch on.

“What?” he asked innocently, noticing the way your gaze lingered.

You blinked, caught off guard for a second, but the realization hit you like a wave. "You bought it," you said, a soft laugh escaping your lips. "You actually bought the painting."

 “I could tell that you liked it,” He chuckled and started walking, his steps slow enough to match yours. “And that wall by the window is just so empty!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you followed his lead, your thoughts swirling. "You didn’t have to–" you started, but he cut you off, his grin widening.

"I wanted to," he said simply.

He glanced down at you, his smile softening into something warmer.  For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had finally fallen away and your intrusive thoughts had finally been silenced. In this moment, all that mattered was the simplicity of being here together, regardless of the unknown of what might come next. It didn’t need to be figured out right now, because right now, this– this unspoken understanding– was enough. 

Tag List:

@thhriller, @primroseluna @elllielewiss, @mrs-starkgaryen, @watercolorskyy, @belovedbastardremus, @hardyshoe, @notafairyteen, @notsuremarie, @mxauthor, @queen-of-elves, @louieluvly, @justmymindandstuff, @thetwentyeightclub

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Thank You 💖

Hi all! I wanted to take this time to thank everyone single one of you for making my year as incredible as it was. 2024 was definitely filled with ups and downs for me personally, but one of the best things that happened to me this year were the incredible friends I’ve made on here.

On January 25th, 2024, the Hazbin fandom was introduced to Lucifer Morningstar for the first time. And my God, did that change my life (for the better). A few weeks after that, I posted my first ever Lucifer x Reader story, just as a small passion project because I couldn’t get that little man out of my head! I’ve never written x reader or smut content before that, so I wasn’t expecting much reception. Little did I know what would happen because of that one decision I’ve made.

Now, I have 13 official Lucifer x Reader stories along with countless small smutty snippets all about being intimate with our favorite fallen angel. A truly unexpected turn of events but one I would not change for anything!

I have made so many good friends because of this; I was even lucky enough to meet a few of them in person! I want you all to know that I love and cherish every single one of you. To everyone who’s written me a message, left a comment on my works, wrote the most insane and hilarious tags in your reblogs, and created beautiful artwork based on the stories; you have my entire heart and soul and I could never show my appreciation enough. Even if you took time to read anything I’ve written, it means more to me than you know.

The only thing I can think to give you all is a promised date for Chapter 5 of Dress Up. As an anniversary celebration for our darling Luci, I will be posting the next installment on January 25, 2025! This is one of my favorite stories I’ve come up with so I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I do!

After that, I’m hoping to continue my writing! And I’m hoping we get some new Hazbin news this year! My stories may take longer to write in the future but I’m excited to see what else I can try to create! I have one request before I go though…I would love to know which of my stories were your favorite! I always wanted to make a poll but I never got around to it, so this is the next best thing!

For now, I wish you all a wonderful and happy new year. I pray 2025 is good and kind to all of you. Thank you everyone again, and I’ll see ya next year! 💖

[inell]

2024 Fic Round Up

I was tagged by @exhuastedpigeon & @rainbow-nerdss . This took me longer than expected but here it is. In 2024, I was able to break out of a block when I discovered a new fandom and fell in love with Buddie. I’m hoping that my writing beans return to me asap & 2025 is another great writing year for me. 🤞

A huge thank you to everyone who has read my fic this year, who have left comments and kudos and recced my words to others. It’s truly appreciated! Meeting new friends, reuniting with old friends, and continuing great relationships with mutuals and followers who are also into 911 has helped keep me inspired and creative.

Total fics written in 2024: 109

Words written in 2024: 552,421

April

Nightcap. Buck/Tommy. Adult. WC: 4366 After their first date goes a bit astray, Buck invites Tommy to his loft for a nightcap.

A Subway Ride. Bucky/Stiles. Teen. WC: 3030. Bucky and Stiles take the subway to Grand Central and have a talk on their way to meet Tony and the rest of the team.

Regrouping. Bucky/Stiles. Teen. WC: 4440. Stiles and Bucky find out what Jarvis has learned, and the team takes time to regroup.

Eyes Wide Open. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 3365. Tommy drops by and wants to talk, which has Buck drawing some wrong conclusions.

A Six Pack and an Ambush. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2500. Eddie has been avoiding him, so Buck ambushes him to find out why.

A New Chapter. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Teen. WC: 5450. Buck goes to Tommy’s house expecting bros night with Eddie. Instead, Tommy and Eddie have a surprise for him.

The Twelfth Date. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 2100. Buck and Tommy go hiking on their twelfth date. Feelings are revealed.

Revelations. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Adult. WC: 2750. It’s a hot summer afternoon, and Buck is watching Eddie and Tommy work on a car when he accidentally says something out loud that changes their relationships.

A Surprise Visitor. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 2521. Buck gets a surprise visitor when Tommy shows up after his shift.

Prize For the Night. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Adult. WC: 4505. When Tommy and Eddie get super competitive playing poker, Buck finds himself becoming part of their bet.

Hole in One. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2000. Buck and Eddie have a life-changing conversation during a game of mini-golf.

Mr. July. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5400. It’s time for the annual hot firefighter calendar to begin shooting, and Buck and Eddie are surprised to learn that they’ve both been selected to be Mr. July.

Surrounded By Idiots. Chimney & Buck. WC: 1700. During a ride with the team, Buck asks Chimney a question

Normal is Overrated. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Teen. WC: 2455. Buck and Tommy join Eddie for drinks, and a confession is made that changes their relationship.

Something Special. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 3825. Buck surprises Tommy with lunch during a shared day off.

Gonna Need a Miracle. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3970. Eddie is working an overtime shift when they get a call about a MVA with injuries. When they arrive and he sees Buck’s Jeep, he comes to a few realizations.

Resisting Temptation. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2420. When Christopher calls Buck to come check on Eddie, Buck isn’t expecting to have to resist temptation.

Finding Home. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 3270. While Buck takes a shower, Eddie uses his laptop to order some food. Only he finds something surprising in the open browser window that changes their relationship.

A Theory. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Teen. WC: 2830. Buck expects to have a fun night of bowling with Tommy and Eddie. Instead, Eddie gets an attitude, and Tommy has a theory.

Connect the Dots. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 10,560. “Let’s see how much we can get away with before they open their eyes and realize we’re together,” Buck says, moving his hand up Eddie’s arm to cup his jaw.

“If this backfires, I’m gonna blame you,” Eddie says, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss against his mouth. “But I’m in.”

Take a Leap. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 1405. Tommy and Buck have their first argument, which leads to a serious conversation.

Don’t Walk Away. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4000. When Buck starts avoiding Eddie after injuring him during a basketball game, May forces him to get out and have some fun.

Salvation. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2965. During the past few months, Eddie has learned a lot about himself and the true nature of his feelings for Buck.

It Takes Time. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 1590. Tommy knows that there’s still a lot that he and Evan don’t know about each other.

Best Laid Plans. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 6735. Buck goes to karaoke night with Maddie and Josh to distract himself from his jealousy over Eddie’s new friendship. His plan doesn’t work when Eddie shows up at the bar with Tommy , so he comes up with another plan—this one involving Josh and a fake date.

A Little Bruised. Buck & Maddie. Teen. WC: 2150. After Tommy breaks up with him, Maddie comes over to give Buck some big sister comfort.

Bright Like the Sun. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4800. A routine call causes Eddie to make some decisions that help him move his relationship with Buck to the next level.

Breathless. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2775. Chaperoning a middle school dance isn’t how Buck expects to spend his night off, but he can’t ever say no to Eddie.

Never Felt Luckier. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Teen. WC: 2301. After the 118 has a tough night, Tommy takes care of Buck and Eddie.

Where He Belongs. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3575. Christopher surprises Eddie with a conversation about life and happiness, which encourages Eddie to take a risk regarding his relationship with Buck.

First of Many. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2630. While the 118 is on a rescue mission, Eddie and Buck share a moment that changes their relationship.

Dinner and a Show. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Adult. WC: 5500. Buck has been dating Eddie and Tommy separately for months. Tonight, they’re finally coming together as three, and he’s got it all planned.

Unexpected Proposition. Buck & Ravi. Buddie. Teen. WC: 3050. When Buck picks up an extra shift, Ravi gets pushy and helps him realize a few things about himself and his feelings about Eddie.

May

Orange Crush. Buck/Connor. Adult. WC: 3500. After losing Devon at the roller coaster, Buck is having trouble sleeping and dealing with the failure of his caller dying. Connor offers to help him relax so he can sleep.

Downtime. Eddie & Hen. Buddie. Teen. WC: 3100. It’s a quiet day at the station when Hen checks in with Eddie, unexpectedly leading him to talk to Buck about his feelings.

Two Plus Two Equals Five. Buck & Chimney. Teen. WC: 4530. A couple of days after Chim and Maddie get married, Buck goes to visit Chim in the hospital and fill him in on everything he missed.

SOS. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 6000. When Eddie receives a SOS text from Buck asking for his help, he isn’t expecting for a sex toy mishap to lead to them admitting their feelings for each other.

Like a Bronte Heroine. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3900. Eddie keeps getting lost in his thoughts while waiting for Buck to come over to watch the game.

Weather the Storm. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3700. The morning after they confess their love, Eddie and Buck navigate telling Christopher about their relationship.

Special Couple Smile. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2700. During a rough shift, Eddie and Buck find some time to talk and have a moment together.

A Good Surprise. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4050. When Buck gets back to the station after an appointment, Bobby tells him there’s a surprise waiting for him upstairs.

Dilemma. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2840. Buck and Eddie go for coffee after their shift.

Distorted. Eddie/Kim. Adult. WC: 1185. Eddie goes to Kim’s house after a second date, and he realizes he’s fucked up.

Love Dares You to Change. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 7650. After realizing that Abby isn’t coming back, Buck goes to a club to find someone to share his night. He ends up meeting Eddie, who changes his world.

Stir Crazy. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2070. When Buck has to take medical leave for a few days, he gets so bored that he finally reads a book he’s had buried in his closet while waiting for Eddie to come over.

You and Me Forever. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 7900. When Buck gets struck by lightning and enters a coma dream, he chooses to go back to the real world, even though Eddie doesn’t know that they’re soulmates.

Paint the Sky. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2200. Buck and Eddie take Christopher and his friends to play paintball.

A Little Cliché. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3000. Buck takes Eddie to a lake for a relaxing day that leads to them confessing their feelings for each other.

Afternoon Coffee. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 2600. Tommy wakes up in Evan’s bed and reflects on their relationship.

Brain Fog. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3000. When Buck has the flu, Eddie comes over to help take care of him. Too much cough medicine leads to an unplanned confession.

Before Dinner Snack. Buck/Tommy. WC: 3002. Tommy has Evan over for date night, and Evan’s craving a snack before they order dinner.

Catch My Fall. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5330. During a search to find a missing hiker, Buck and Eddie get trapped and feelings get admitted.

June

Bullseye. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5100. After another awful shift with Gerrard, Buck is surprised when one of the captain’s verbal attacks actually bothers him. Eddie offers him support and makes a confession during the commute home.

Man Down. Buck & Ravi. Buddie. Teen. WC: 4365. During a warehouse fire, Ravi and Buck work together and have a talk about their current circumstances and possible future.

Chance Encounter. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3330. When Eddie and Buck go to the Hollywood Farmer’s Market, Eddie doesn’t expect to run into his ex-wife for the first time since moving to LA two years ago.

Take the Lead. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 1300. Buck and Eddie finally have a conversation that they’ve needed to have for months, if not years.

Plenty of Time. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2800. Buck died, and it turned Eddie’s world upside down. Now, a week after Buck returns to work, he’s dozing on Eddie’s couch, and Eddie’s waiting for a sign.

Being Selfish. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4075. It’s been a little more than six weeks since Eddie’s life became a chaotic mess. Luckily, he’s had Buck’s support and constant presence to help him get through it.

Walk With Me Out on the Wire. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3800. Chris has been gone for two weeks, and Eddie is handling it as well as he can, but Buck refuses to let him deal with it on his own.

All of Me. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2550. Buck has been there for Eddie during the nearly three months since Chris went to Texas. Eddie is in a good place and makes a confession that changes their relationship.

One Look at You. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4000. Eddie and Buck are enjoying a night out when lines get blurred and feelings are finally admitted.

A Love as True as Mine. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4300. After Buck gets injured during a call, he overcomes some personal issues and ideas of love with Eddie’s help.

Cursebreaker. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4450. Buck is nervous about his apparent dating curse ruining his first date with Eddie. Lucky for him, Eddie doesn’t believe in curses.

The Moment is Here. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2550. Eddie has been in love with Buck for longer than he cares to remember but he’s been scared to jeopardize their friendship. Lucky for him, Buck is feeling brave this morning.

July

A Good Time Not a Long Time. Buck/Connor. Teen. WC: 3200. Buck and Connor have been casually having sex while Buck’s enrolled at the fire academy. When he decides to try to take their relationship to the next level, he realizes that he and Connor aren’t on the same page at all.

I Can See Clearly Now. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4800. During a simple call, Buck finds himself locked in a lab after a possible exposure with Eddie and the rest of his team on the other side of the glass doors.

Talk to Me. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5505. Buck takes Eddie camping to get away from the city when Chris is in Texas. During the hike to their campsite, they talk about the past and realize they have a future together.

And There You Were. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4200. After admitting their feelings for each other and spending the night together, Eddie wakes up to find Buck in the kitchen and decides to distract him.

Kismet. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5810. When an old friend asks him for a favor, Eddie temporarily trades his turnouts for a camera to help film a reality dating show. He certainly doesn’t expect to fall in love with Buck, the star of the show, though.

A Promise Made is a Promise Kept. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 52,036. When the 118 gets called to a multi-vehicle accident, Buck doesn’t expect to find a familiar face amidst the wreckage, and he makes a promise that ends up altering the course of his life. Fortunately, he has Eddie and his family to help, but he soon realizes that his relationship with Eddie is also changing.

Sparks Fly. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 570. Eddie meets his match when reporter Buck shadows the 118.

Seeing Stars. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 715. Buck and Eddie are best friends who have been pining for a while when Buck finally makes a move.

Go For the Gold. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 1600. It’s the last Olympics that Buck will be part of, and Eddie doesn’t want to lose him.

The New Probie. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2300. Eddie and the rest of A shift don’t know that Bobby’s hired a new probie until he meets his new partner, Evan ‘just call me Buck’ Buckley.

Eternal Flame. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2700. Buck and Eddie are part of the California Interagency Hotshot Crew, and they’ve been friends for years. When they’re trapped in the middle of a raging wildfire, the extent of their feelings are revealed.

August

Sketches of You. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 8100. After Christopher went to El Paso, Eddie’s had a lot of time to think while also rediscovering his interest in drawing. He’s finally ready to tell Buck how he feels about him in the best way he knows how—through his art.

I’m Yours. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 6105. While helping Eddie do some home renovations while Chris is in El Paso, Buck has been encouraging him to make choices based on what he wants. Eddie applies that lesson to their relationship and decides to be selfish for once.

How Our Story Ends. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 6100. When Buck and Eddie are sent into an apartment building that’s on fire to search for squatters, Eddie finds himself in a situation where he prays that the universe is actually real and listening to him.

Choosing You. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3105. Eddie has been patiently waiting for Buck to be ready to take their relationship to the next level. After a couple of months, Buck realizes that the ball is in his court.

Learning to Compromise. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4050. Buck and Eddie moved in together two weeks ago, and they’re learning how to compromise about the things that never came up until they were living together. Case in point, preferred grocery store for their weekly shopping trip.

First Date Nerves. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 5140. Buck and Eddie are on their first date, both nervous about taking their friendship to the next level. Neither one wants the date to end, though, so they continue it at Eddie’s house.

Perfect Fit. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3110. Buck drops by to talk to Eddie after his break up with Tommy ends up with an unexpected offer. Eddie realizes that it’s time for him to finally make his move before it’s too late.

Keep Holding On. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3230. When a rescue goes wrong, Buck and Eddie find themselves in danger and feelings get admitted.

The Way to a Man’s Heart. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5400. When Eddie texts Buck to ask him over for dinner, Buck thinks something odd is going on, but nothing prepares him for what Eddie has planned.

No Regrets. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 4800. Buck and Eddie’s relationship changes with an impulsive kiss during a rerun of Chopped. It’s now a few hours later, and Buck wants to make sure that Eddie doesn’t have any regrets

Crazy For You. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4600. While hanging out watching a baseball game & drinking beer, Eddie shares his honest opinions regarding Buck’s relationship. Four days later, he confronts Buck to find out why he’s been avoiding him since then.

Kindred Spirits. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 73,280. Eddie has been a member of Paranormal Research Group for nearly four years after being recruited during one of their investigations. During that time, he’s found a job he enjoys, created a family that cares about him, become an unwilling reality TV star, and fallen in love with his best friend and partner, Buck. The team is traveling across the country filming the second season of their hit reality show, Haunted Case Files, and Eddie’s unknowingly going to find his skepticism challenged when Buck sets out to prove that there’s such a thing as destiny and fate, and that some things are meant to be.

Sealed with a Kiss. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 8100. When Buck goes to the beach to get away from Abby’s empty apartment, he ends up saving a kid from drowning. He isn’t expecting to meet Christopher’s father, Eddie, who also happens to be Buck’s soulmate.

September

Perfect Opportunity. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 8000. Buck and Eddie are working a shift together several weeks after their relationship became something more than just friends. It’s after midnight when Buck finds the perfect opportunity for them to make one of his fantasies come true.

Constant Craving. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 7800. Buck and Eddie have recently started dating, and it’s their third official date. While playing a game of pool, they make a little wager, and Buck gets to indulge a craving he’s had for years.

A Possible Connection. Bucky/Stiles. Teen. WC: 6205. Bucky has to go to Poland with Natasha to pick up Clint, and Stiles finally finds a clue that might help connect Carrie Hill with Tommy Mata.

Friendly Advice. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 6800. When Ravi asks Buck and Eddie to have dinner with him, they don’t expect him to ask them for advice on how they remained friends after breaking up. The issue? They’ve never been a couple.

Pretty Kitty. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 3700. After a rough shift, Buck helps Eddie shake it off and let go.

Negotiations Over Spaghetti. Bucky/Stiles. Teen. WC: 5315. Stiles meets up with Peter and Lydia before work. When he gets to the hospital, he catches up with Susie.

Reaching For You. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5600. While getting Eddie to safety after a sniper attack, Buck realizes that they might be soulmates and has to make a difficult choice.

Ready Now. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5150. When Eddie starts to avoid him, Buck decides to find out what the problem is so he can try to fix it.

Helping Hand. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 5200. When Eddie arrives early for their date, he catches Buck in a compromising position and offers him a helping hand.

Overkill. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3700. Buck and Eddie figure out the best way to approach an important conversation with Chris. As per usual for them, they go overboard and have to revise their plans.

Happy Accident. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 6150. When Buck gets some good news, he accidentally kisses Eddie, which leads to a conversation that changes their relationship.

To be continued

[cigarettesaftersae]

homesick - 10 every breath you take

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Series: sae x f!reader | childhoodlovers!au

Stuck in a small town near the coast with a previous crush on a boy who returns after years

Christmas note at the bottom:p

Inside this warm and cozy cafe, off to the corner of the small town lays two pretty best friends. With soothing coffee juzz steaming up the air and flowers on the wall, “You have to, please.” Mel insists, her eyebrows flared up like Emilia Clarke as you shake up some orders. Your back turned, facing all the customers and her till you once again answer with a “No, I already told you I’m busy.”

“Oh with what? All you’re doing is dressing up for a bit. I need a model for like a second.”

“Yeah last time that happened, it wasn’t for one day.” Ever so the stubborn girl you are, staying determined with your one and only answer. It was necessary for your opposing answer which originated on past events when you last accepted with care, Mel had took you captive for about a whole day and two.

“And I’m busy with… my job, and writing and stuff.” Your brief words didn’t come out quite confident leaving a suspicious thought in Mel’s head

“Right… and what is your writing about?”

“Gothic literature, isn’t that cool?” You try and change the subject to rinse her mind of what she was trying to pull you into. Modeling for her new brands of clothes on the company she worked on, the last time you did it you found yourself on the cover of a magazine. Last time, you checked you wrote for those kinds of stuff not posed for it.

“Y/n, please, babygirl.” Her persistence was unwavering, her begging carrying a desperation that might seem excessive for something as trivial as this appointment.

“Can’t you ask someone else?” you say, tilting your head slightly. “Or maybe get one of your teammates—or a co-worker—to help you out instead. That one guy, uhh…Jude?”

“I can’t.” Mel groans in distress “We were in a meeting and they all just chose me as a recruiter because last time they seemed to like you.”

“Uhh ever heard of rejecting an offer?”

“Well you weren’t there, they just pushed it on me.”

“You’re horrible, absolutely horrible” You say with narrow eyes and an accusing pointing finger between her eyes

“And you’re lovely, that’s why they want you.” Her lips curved into a cocky smile

“So that’s a yes.”

“Nope”

Your focus remained locked on Mel’s brown eyes, so drawn in, like a black hole, that you didn’t notice Sae walking out to the front—a rare occurrence when he was working. As he handled a few orders, your attention stayed with Mel, your preoccupation earning you the unofficial title of Bad Employee of the Month.

Then something shifted. Mel’s gaze wasn’t on you anymore. It had drifted past, landing directly on Sae Itoshi.

You didn’t need to read her mind; her expression screamed it loud and clear. Still, you tried to cut it off before it started. “Uh, no.”

“Ugh—why not? Who is that hottie? Why didn’t you tell me you were working with a total babe?” Mel squealed, her excitement bubbling in her usual girly fervor. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “He even looks kind of familiar...”

“That’s Sae Itoshi,” you said, keeping your tone casual, though you already anticipated her reaction.

As expected, Mel’s jaw dropped. She froze, eyes wide and unblinking, stuck in a loop of shock.

“No way. That’s Sae Itoshi?”

“He’s going to reject. He’s kind of a dingus,” you said, shrugging.

“A dingus? Uhh, that is Sae Itoshi. Awesomely hot, insanely talented, and clearly too cool for this job,” she gushed, practically vibrating in place as she ogled him.

“Are you kidding me?” you deadpanned. “The guy’s gotten like half the orders wrong today, and I’ve been secretly fixing them. This guy order a coffee with no cream and he put two extra creams. How does that happen? He’s only good at soccer.”

Mel, entirely unfazed, sighed dreamily. “He’s even more gorgeous in person. And his lashes—ugh, they’re longer than mine. That’s just unfair.”

“Yeah, he’s also Mister Mysterious Childhood Boy,” you muttered, almost to yourself, but loud enough for Mel to catch it.

Her silence was deafening, her expression screaming realization. “Wait... Like, as in vending machine boy? That was Sae Ito—”

You slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling her exclamation. “You’re so loud!” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s gonna hear you!”

Mel’s wide eyes darted between you and Sae, her excitement barely contained even through your palm.

“He’s not gonna agree to your modeling—Mel, what are you doing?” you whisper-yelled as she suddenly got up from her seat.

Without hesitation, she crossed the room, her gaze locked on Sae like a predator zeroing in on prey. You scrambled to follow her, but she was too quick. Standing across the counter from him, Mel leaned in slightly, her confidence radiating.

“Agree to my team’s model,” she said firmly, her voice carrying the kind of determination that could stun anyone. But would it be enough to sway someone like Sae Itoshi?

You caught up to her, panic bubbling up as you tugged at her arm. “Mel, stop—”

She turned to hush you with a dramatic wave of her hand, not even sparing you a glance.

“Please,” she continued, her voice softer now, almost pleading as she looked directly at Sae. “It’ll help your soccer career. Think of the exposure.”

Sae’s gaze locked onto her, sharp and assessing, as though he was scrutinizing every inch of her with an intensity that made even you uncomfortable. His expression was unreadable—cold, calculating, and completely unaffected by Mel’s enthusiasm.

“You think I need someone like you,” he began, his voice low and cutting, “to boost my career? A lousy loot like you?”

The words dripped with disdain, slicing through the air like a blade.

“It’ll magically help our dearest Y/n,” Mel insisted, her tone softening into a pleading lilt as she leaned just a bit closer.

You cut in, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Sae, you don’t have to—”

But Sae raised a hand, silencing you without so much as a glance. His attention stayed on Mel, his expression unchanged, icy and unmoving.

“What clothing?” he asked, his tone devoid of enthusiasm, as if the very question bored him.

“Calvin Klein,” Mel blurted out, her voice quick and eager, clearly hoping to sway him.

Sae’s gaze didn’t soften, nor did his expression change. “Talk to my assistant about it,” he said flatly, turning away as if the conversation was already over.

Mel turned to you, a smug grin tugging at her lips. “Huh… that was way easier than I thought. Did you notice how he started to agree after I mentioned you?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re in denial. He started to agree after you mentioned Calvin Klein.”

But Mel wasn’t done connecting dots. Her expression shifted, her eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Wait—didn’t you say your co-worker took care of you when you got sick?”

“Yeah, why?” you replied with a shrug, unsure where she was going with this.

Mel’s jaw dropped slightly, her voice dropping to an excited whisper. “It was Sae!”

You stared at her, unbothered. “Yeah, so what? He was only doing it because Maria convinced him.”

“Righttt…” Mel dragged out the word, a knowing smirk creeping onto her face. “Because Maria convinced him. Totally not because he secretly cares about you or anything.”

You shot her a flat look. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows with a sly grin. “Or am I just really good at reading the signs?”

“You’re really good at being delusional,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

Mel ignored your jab, her excitement undeterred. “So… do you still want to model?”

You raised a brow. “You got Sae Itoshi on the job.”

“Yes, but we need a girl too,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You sighed heavily, the weight of her persistence finally wearing you down. “Fine,” you groaned “but you owe me lots and lots of hot chocolate with whip cream too.”

—

“I seriously can’t believe you got Sae Itoshi to model for us,” one of Mel’s coworkers gushes, her eyes practically sparkling as they linger on Sae’s striking face.

Mel smirks, adjusting her clipboard. “It actually wasn’t that hard.”

You glance at Sae, who stands just a few steps away, quiet and composed as always. Mel and her team buzz around, preparing the set.

“I thought you weren’t going to do this,” he says, his tone neutral but his teal eyes briefly meeting yours.

“Mel’s magic words,” you reply lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Do you usually model?” Sae ask after a pause.

“Once, Mel needed someone for some bra product photo shoot. Next morning, I woke up on the cover of a magazine.”

He hums in response, his gaze sweeping over the bustling set. Then, as if drawn by some invisible thread, his eyes return to yours. “You must be used to this,” you say, quieter now, almost hesitant.

For a moment, there’s silence. His eyes hold yours—steady, piercing, and unreadable. It feels as though the rest of the world has melted away. If you let your imagination run wild, you could almost believe his hand and yours were inching closer, magnetized by some unspoken force.

But then, just as quickly, he looks away, breaking the spell. You blink, jolted back to the present, and wonder what went through his mind. Sae Itoshi: so mysterious, so cold—and yet, you think, there’s something there. A flicker of something only you seem to notice.

“Alright, the set’s all ready. You two good to go?” Mel strides over, clipboard in hand, her tone brisk.

You nod, stealing a glance at Sae. He pinches the skin on his left thumb, a small, almost imperceptible gesture.

Was he nervous? No, that couldn’t be it. Sae Itoshi doesn’t get nervous. Maybe it was a habit, or perhaps a ritual for luck. Either way, the action felt oddly human, peeling back another layer of the enigma before you.

Ever so mysterious, you think, ever so unreachable. And yet, here he was, standing right next to you.

“First up is you,” Mel says with a smile, her tone cheerful but commanding as her eyes land on you.

Your stomach drops, and you feel the weight of regret settle over you. Why had you agreed to this again? You swallow hard, forcing a weak smile in return.

“You’ll be introducing a new product my team and I developed,” Mel explains, her clipboard held tight against her chest. “It’s a casual pair of baggy jeans—super trendy right now. And…” She pauses for dramatic effect. “You’ll also be introducing a bra product.”

“Again?” you groan, your voice dripping with exasperation.

Mel smirks knowingly. “You have to do it. We used your exact measurements to model this bra. You just have the greatest boobs”

“Excuse me?” Your jaw drops, heat rushing to your cheeks.

Before you can argue further, Mel spins you around and gives you a gentle shove toward the set. “Go on,” she says, her voice leaving no room for negotiation.

Still reeling, you reluctantly take your position. Behind you, Mel turns to Sae, her professional demeanor returning.

“And you,” she says briskly, “my teammate will explain your job.”

Sae’s icy gaze shifts to her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he doesn’t move, as though considering whether to comply. Then, without a word, he walks off toward the team member, his posture confident and detached, like he’s done this a hundred times before.

Mel watches him go, her smirk softening into a satisfied smile. “Always so compliant when he wants to be,” she murmurs, mostly to herself.

You glance back at Sae, watching as he listens to instructions with his usual calm intensity. Even from this distance, there’s something about his presence that feels larger than life—aloof, yet magnetic.

“Focus!” Mel’s voice cuts through your thoughts, snapping you back to your own task. You sigh, adjusting the fit of the jeans as the camera crew begins to circle. “Okay okay..” you mumble with a pout.

The shoot finally began, a flurry of activity surrounding you as the crew adjusted your outfit, tended to your makeup, and ensured every detail was perfect. Under the lights, you posed modestly, doing your best to follow their instructions.

Once your turn was over and you stepped off the spotlight, you made your way back to Mel, a warning already on your lips. “You better not use those for any covers,” you said, narrowing your eyes at her.

Mel held up her hands defensively, though her grin was anything but innocent. “I told you, we’re sending these to our manager. He decides if they’re good enough.”

She paused, then added with a mischievous glint in her eye, “He just seems to really like your pictures... and I’m sure Sae will too.

Mel punctuated her tease by wiggling her eyebrows dramatically.

“That’s… a no,” you replied flatly, crossing your arms.

“Oh, come on,” Mel whined, clasping her hands together in an exaggerated plea.

“Come on what?

“It’s obvious,” she said, as if the answer were written in neon lights above your head.

“No, it’s not. And I barely have time for… all that,” you countered, waving a hand dismissively.

“You can’t just push it away,” Mel pressed, her tone edging toward exasperation.

“Watch me,” you shot back with a bit of sarcasm, turning on your heel with a pointed glare.

Sae takes up the stage as if the stage was made for him, besides his unbelievable soccer talents he butchered flawless beauty like no other. Leading all eyes on him, finding it hard to pass by him since anyone even maybe you wanted to just stay right where he was. “Hey” the voice capturing you, shocking you into reality, looking up you see Jude, Mel’s very handsome co-worker you might add “oh, hey” you wave a smile “I’m glad you came back here to help us. It’s a great pleasure” His smile grinned and shined his pearly white teeth, his bold lips, and arch on his nose completing his looks. “It’s my pleasure” Your gaze drifted back to the red hair ahead. Jude caught the shift “Heard Mel and you recruited him, how’d you do it?”

“It was mostly Mel actually.”

“Mel said the same thing but instead you did most of it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing full well it was exactly the kind of thing Mel would say. Before you could respond, the shoot wrapped up, and Sae stepped out of the spotlight.

It wasn’t the sight of him leaving that caught your attention—it was the fact that he was walking straight toward you. Your breath hitched as he got closer. The faint yet rich scent of his cologne reached you first: a blend of woody tones with something warm, almost soothing, like the ocean at sunset. It overpowered your thoughts, lingering more than the presence of Jude standing right next to you. Sae stopped just short of you, his voice calm and unhurried. “I’m heading to Maria’s. Did you want to come?” The question floored you. Of all the things Sae Itoshi could say, this was not one you—or anyone else in their right mind—would have expected. “Oh…well I promised I was going to hang out with Mel. I’ve been really busy lately and she just got back in town.” His expression remains the same, but you notice maybe…a pout on his lips? Maybe you’re imagining things, yeah.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there with a strange knot of guilt and confusion in your chest.

“Well, I’m gonna get going,” you said to Jude, barely meeting his gaze before taking off. “Got a whole day ahead.”

You hurried away, only to bump straight into Mel, who grabbed your shoulders dramatically.

“What was that?” she asked, her tone laced with incredulity.

“What was what?” you replied, feigning innocence.

“That, he was basically asking you, ‘come with me baby,’ like a Jake and Rose” Mel even re-acts the scenes from the Titanic, hugging out her arms towards you

“Uh, he definitely did, in his Sae Itoshi way,” she insisted, wagging a finger at you. “Also, is Jude still trying to hit on you?”

“Hit on me?” you repeated, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah, girl. He’s into you,” Mel said with a knowing nod.

You shrugged it off with a laugh. “I’m not into anyone, so good luck to anyone out there.”

.

.

.

extra

On a Monday afternoon, Sae sat across from you, as he did every week for your usual Monday lunch. This week, however, the air carried a faint buzz of holiday cheer—it was Christmas week, a time for joy, presents, and festive cheer. None of which seemed to affect Sae’s ever-aloof expression.

In front of you sat a half-empty cup of coffee, its warmth still rising in faint wisps, while Sae quietly worked his way through a simple meal of rice and salted kelp.

Without a word, you reached into your bag and placed a small, wrapped box on the table, carefully sliding it toward him. It was neatly tied with a red bow, and the sight of it felt slightly out of place next to his no-nonsense demeanor.

“I got you a present,” you said, your tone casual but with a hint of nervousness as you tried to gauge his reaction. “You can open it right now.” You smile, and he looks at you then back at the box. His slender fingers unfolding the bow and lifting the top finding a mini plushie of himself inside and laying beside his mini version is a note. “You can read the note later” You rush before he opens it.

“It’s me” He says lifting up his plushie. “With a small star on your head” You giggle softly

“Here” Sae slides over a box and you gasp “No Way, a present from the Sae Itoshi.”

“Just open it” He looks out to the window. With a peek inside, you see a bit of fur, it’s soft and cute. A cat plushie, which you discussed with him when you were sick. “Are you Santa?”

“Only if you like stupid stuff like that” Sae remarks, watching as you gleam at the present he brought.

With a wave of goodbye, you two separate away into the snow and Sae heads off to his black gleaming car. Sitting inside on his passenger sit was your present. He gently opens your note card, being greeted with an tongue out :p emoji, “Merry Christmas Sae, I hope you like the present and for next year that you smile more often rather than being a grumpy grinch. You have nice dimples.” love, y/n

[allieslittlewritings]

hii! would you write a spencer reid x daughter! or sister! reader where she just graduated high school and has a lot of mixed emotions, like, she’s relieved that it’s over but sad that she may not see her friends anymore or as much as she did?

thank you sm 💗

Graduation Blues

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: None :)

A/n: this was my first time writing a request. I hope I did okay and I hope you like it <3

The front door creaked open as you stepped inside. The familiar warmth your home held was comforting against the slight chill you felt from the cold weather outside. From a distance you could hear the sound of your best friend's car as she drove away after dropping off. Though you enjoyed spending an eventful day with your friends, there was also a hint of relief that came with being home.

Your removed graduation cap and gown hung over your arm. You looked down at it and felt that same feeling you had felt on-and-off all day. If there existed a fitting word to describe it, you didn't know what it was. It felt almost like anxiety and confusion, but that wasn't quite it. In racking your brain to try and reach an actual conclusion, you failed to notice Spencer exiting the kitchen and warmly greeting you.

"Hi, sweetheart. Did you have fun?" He pulled the sleeves of his shirt down, his hands slightly damp from washing dishes.

Absent-mindedly you hummed in agreement and started taking off your shoes. Spencer wasn't big on wearing "outside shoes" inside, citing how much bacteria you could unknowingly step into your home.

You missed the analytical look on his face. "You okay?"

Being both a profiler and an attentive parent, he could always tell immediately when something about you seemed even remotely off or wrong. Something as small as sighing in smaller intervals than usual was always noticed by him.

"Do I not seem okay?" you tried your best to make it sound like a joke. As if you were so obviously okay there would be no reason to doubt it.

Spencer smiled a little sadly, "Uh, no, not really." He hesitated for a second. "It took you about two seconds longer than usual to answer me. And even then you didn't actually say anything. I'd expect you to be so excited you wouldn't even bother taking off your shoes or pausing by the door. You haven't really looked at me since you got here." He tilted his head as he observed your body language.

You didn't say anything in return and instead just focused on hanging up your coat, turning your face away from your dad.

With a gentler voice Spencer spoke again. "I made mac and cheese if you're hungry, I wasn't sure if you'd eat while you were out so, I figured it was better to just make it."

Still not a word left your mouth. Luckily for you, Spencer was practically just as good at interpreting silence as speech.

"Okay, why don't I go get us some food? We can eat, and then, only if you want, you can talk to me about whatever is going on. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah," you said softly.

Spencer looked at you for a moment longer and then went to the kitchen to get you two food.

You followed him to the kitchen and got plates and forks for the two of you, setting them by your usual seats around the dining table.

Spencer did most of the talking while you ate. He told you about the plot of his latest read, what he liked about it and the miniscule inaccuracies that didn't sit right with him.

His rambling was a comforting distraction from your thoughts for a while.

Spencer swallowed his last bite of food and took a sip of water. "Can you tell me what's wrong now?"

Silence filled the apartment for a minute while you gathered your thoughts.

"When you graduated high school, did you miss it afterwards?" you asked.

Spencer laughed awkwardly, "No, not at all. I was very glad it was over, but I didn't have the type of high school experience you did. My graduation day was mostly spent trying to convince your grandmother the shadow outside her bedroom window wasn't a human being."

He paused and changed his tone to a softer one before continuing. "But if that's what's bothering you, I think I understand. You've spent years going to that same building, with more or less the same people. The same teachers and classmates. Now that that's ending, it's maybe a little harder to deal with than you thought."

"I was so focused on studying and finally being done with all my exams that I didn't even really think about it until today." Your voice got more choked up as you continued. "Only one of my friends is going to college in the same state I am. We're all going to be busy and every year we'll see each other less and less."

Spencer nodded as he listened to you.

"You've gotten so used to seeing them almost every day and going from that to seeing them a few times a year is a big change," he thought out loud. "Sweetheart, I know how much you care about your friends, how much you've nurtured your relationships with them, and that won't change."

The look of hesitation on your face remained.

"Regardless of where all of you go, or how frequently you hang out, you'll still have all of the memories you've made. The experiences you've had together over the years aren't going anywhere."

"Only about 5% of people remain friends after high school," you said quietly.

"That's still approximately four hundred million people, sweetheart." He reached an arm forward to wipe one of the stray tears rolling down your cheek and then gently tilted your face up. "You know, the odds of you existing are almost four hundred million times less than that. The odds of you and your friends existing at the same time? Even less. A statistic you found on Google doesn't define your personal relationships."

"That doesn't help very much," you whispered honestly.

"Unfortunately, I don't think anything I tell you right now will truly help. I can't promise you that you'll still be as close with your friends in twenty years as you are now, but I can promise you that it'll all work out exactly how it's supposed to." He stood up and walked around the table to where you sat.

"Now, why don't we go make hot chocolate and eat your graduation cake?" He held a hand out for you to take.

"You made me a cake?" you frowned, taking his hand.

"I was going to, Aunt Penelope beat me to it," Spencer sheepishly admitted, pulling you up from your chair.

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and slowly pulled you into a hug. "I'm sorry I don't always have a very helpful answer or solution to your problems, but please don't ever think just because you grow up you have to stop coming to me when you don't feel well."

"I won't," you mumbled into his chest.

You went to the kitchen with your dad. While he made your hot chocolate, you started to tell him about the happy aspects of your day. As you thought about your day—hearing your friends and family cheer when you accepted your diploma on stage, laughing with your friends while you all reflected on the last few years, the new inside jokes that transpired—a warmth spread in your chest. Whatever happened in the future, you'd keep all your memories safely tucked away in your heart, and think of them fondly.

[notreallythatlost]

AT YOUR FEET

➴ halbrand/sauron x female!elf!reader

summary: you are an elf, cast out by your people thousands of years ago. now you are sauron’s lover and he promised to give you what you want most: revenge and the satisfaction of all your desires.

warnings: 18+, mdni, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, knife play, sex on the floor, slight biting, reader is on sauron’s side, a little fluff in the end

word count: 1.8k

author‘s note: well… here i am writing about sauron again. i’m so obsessed with him and i know y’all are too. 🤭 i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoy writing about him. and thank you all for the support, it means so much to me. you are amazing, never forget that. xx

The forge was almost completely dark when you entered. Only the flickering embers in one of the furnaces provided light, which fell on the man who stood with his back to you.

“I knew I would find you here,” you said with a gentle smile, which made him turn to you.

“What are you doing here? Is Galadriel sending you to convince me to accompany you?” he asked, looking at you with an impenetrable gaze.

You couldn’t help but grin and shake your head slightly. “You should know by now that I don't let myself get ordered around. Especially not by someone like Galadriel.”

Halbrand raised his eyebrow, but smiled when he catched you in his arms as you ran towards him.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and you looked up at him. “I know you want to see Númenor fall, my love. But let's go back to Middle Earth. You've waited so long for this moment, why not take the chance?” you asked, but Halbrand silenced you by putting his index finger on your lips. Your eyes met his and it was as if your insides were bursting into flames.

“I'm going back to Middle Earth. And then what?” he asked quietly and pushed you back until your back hit the wall while he looked you deeply in the eyes.

You held his gaze and stroked slowly over his chest with one hand.

“You, my Dark Lord, will bring your enemies to their knees. Right where they belong,” you breathed as he came closer to you and you could already feel his warm breath on your lips.

“Keep talking...” he whispered and you had to smile again, pushing him back a little.

“You will let them feel your power and all of Middle Earth will be at your feet. To worship their king, the true king of-“

Your words were drowned out by a kiss as Halbrand pressed his lips greedily to yours. It was as if he was starving and your lips were the only thing capable of keeping him alive while he devoured you.

His breathing was heavy as he pulled away from you slightly. “Not quite,” his words were only a breath, a soft touch against your already swollen lips and he pushed your hair behind your shoulder with one hand.

“They will be at your feet, my love.”

With that, he kissed you again and pressed you against the wall with the weight of his body. His hands grasped your face, held you in place while his tongue pushed into your mouth. A low moan escaped you and you were ready to surrender to him right here, but he seemed to have other plans for you.

His hands slid down your body, long fingers finding the hem of your dress. As soon as he grabbed the soft cotton, he pushed it up, revealing your bare thighs to the warm air of the forge.

The heat between your legs was almost unbearable and you longed for his touch — so much that you thought you were going to lose your mind.

Halbrand seemed to enjoy the torture he did to you, because he pulled away from your lips and watched as your head fell back the closer he got to your throbbing center.

You were just about to raise your head when he slipped a finger through your folds, causing a breathless moan to escape from you. He didn't make a game of it, because not a second later two of his fingers slipped inside of you.

The intensity of this touch made your knees go weak and you sank down slightly, but Halbrand held you tight. “And I thought I should be the one kneeling in front of you,” he commented with a wicked smile and began to move his fingers.

Your hands dug into the fabric of his clothes and your head fell forward against his shoulder. It felt so good and yet it wasn't enough. You wanted, no, you needed more.

He seemed to sense it too, because he withdrew his fingers from you again. They glistened with your juices in the light of the fire and Halbrand brought them to your lips. “Be a good girl and open your mouth,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and you obeyed him.

Your lips closed around his fingers and you whimpered softly at the taste of yourself on your tongue. You sucked on his fingers, as your gazes were locked but he didn't wait long before removing his fingers from you again. His hands quickly grabbed under your thighs and lifted you up in one fluid movement.

You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands buried in his hair desperately. “You will get your revenge. And I will watch with joy as you rise from the ashes. As my queen,” his voice was so deep by now that every single one of his words let your insides clench around nothing, desperate to finally feel him inside of you.

Halbrand carries you away from the wall and to one of the tables where he sets your feet down on the floor again. His hands left your body, grabbing one of the daggers which layed on the table next to you. “And then I will be the one who lies at your feet...” With these words, he tears the thin fabric of the dress apart with the dagger, exposing your naked chest.

Your breathing was heavy as you looked up at him, but he didn’t look away from you. As if you were more beautiful than anything he had ever seen in his long life.

He placed the blade on your collarbone and ran it over your skin. He looked deep into your eyes as he moved the dagger further down. It caused goosebumps to spread across your body and you bite your lower lip to suppress the moan.

His gaze dropped to your breasts and he let the blade slide over your stiff nipple. Your breath caught and you felt like you were suffocating, you wanted him so much.

“Sauron,” you whispered his name and finally, his gaze met yours again. There was a hunger in his eyes, the same hunger that raged deep inside you. The knife slid down your torso before he put it back on the table. Softly his hands cupped your face and he kissed you again. With such passion that you moaned into his mouth.

Together you sank to your knees, kissing until he gently pushed your shoulder back so that you had to lie down on the floor.

Halbrand leaned over you slowly and stroked his hand over your cheek and neck until he finally reaches your breasts. His thumb touched your nipple and you arched yourself against him.

The touch elicited a longing moan from you and you saw a smile creeping onto Halbrand's face. “Let me feel everything of you,” you whispered with a broken voice, too desperate to keep it steady.

“Well, I could never deny you this wish, my queen,” he answered as he started to free himself. He was so big, so perfect, and the sight of him made your mouth water everytime.

Your fingers close around the hem of your dress, which you slowly pulled up and revealed yourself to him. Halbrand settled between your legs and let the tip of his cock slide over your entrance slowly, even torturing. A taste of what was about to come.

With a single movement of his hips, he thrusted his full length into you and put his hand over your mouth to muffle your scream.

“Shhh,” he breathed in your ear and began to move his hips slowly. “As much as I want to hear your beautiful little screams for me, you don't want anyone to catch us, don’t you?,” he continued, releasing his hand from you again.

But you couldn’t help but moan when he hit a sensitive spot inside you and you wrapped your legs around him to feel him even deeper.

He took it as a sign and started to speed up. His hands wandered up your body, catching your head as it fell to the side.

“Look at me,” he gasped as he moved his hips forward again. It was hard to do what he said because he filled you so perfectly, hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars. You felt like you were floating, lost in the feeling of endless desire.

Halbrand found grasp in your hair and buried his fingers in the soft strands. He pulled your head back, gaining access to your neck. He kissed, bit and sucked on the thin skin there until you writhed beneath him.

“Please,” you moaned and trembled as the orgasm slowly builds up inside you. You couldn’t think of anything else except the desire to finally find release and Halbrand could feel it.

“Easy, love,” he breathed against your skin. His fingers dug into your hips, so tightly that you knew it would leave marks.

And you knew that later he would tenderly caress these marks, because they were the sign of your lovemaking — that you belonged to him, even though nobody else could see it.

He pushed himself into you again, this time even harder. He had no mercy in fucking you into the floor and enjoyed the sounds of pure pleasure that came from your lips.

And when he touched your sensitive bud, you couldn’t hold back any longer. Everything inside you tensend until you finally feel like you're falling. You screamed his name breathlessly while your body trembles under the waves of the orgasm.

He fucked you through it until he found his own release. His upper body fell forward and he supported himself with his hands next to you. Breathing heavy and with closed eyes, he emptied himself into you. Finally, he sank onto your smaller body and you let your hands glide softly through his dark locks.

“I take that as a yes” you broke the silence that had fallen over you and got his attention.

“What do you mean by that?” Halbrand asked curiously and looked up at you.

“Are you coming back with me to Middle Earth?" you asked and watched him sit up. A soft whimper escaped you as he slipped out of you by that.

After he had put his pants back on he crouched down in front of you again. Halbrand offered you his hand and pulled you back into a sitting position, taking your face gently in his hands.

“I would follow you everywhere, my love. And if you wish to go back to Middle Earth, I'll come with you,” he whispered against your lips before giving you a gentle kiss. After that he let go of you and stood up, ready to leave the room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” you asked and watched as he turned to you again and let his gaze glide over you, full of renewed desire.

“I'll get you something to wear. I'm definitely not letting you go like this.”

2024 notreallythatlost

[necrotic-nephilim]

"--but why should I let you go when you look so pretty like this?" w/JayTim

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

this one was such a fun pick, anon. i will warn you, this one has some... very dark dialogue. the JayTim is absolutely unrequited, but Tim is forced in a situation where he has no other choice bc of some Ra's tomfoolery. you *could* read into there being Ra'sTim as well, but that's not the focus, it's just 2.8k of unhinged JayTim. enjoy <3

Tim had lost count of the days.

He was pretty sure he was somewhere in the range of ten days and two weeks. He couldn’t use how often he was fed as a gauge when it seemed purposefully sporadic to throw him off. There were no windows in his cell.

Not that it looked like a cell, but Tim insisted on mentally calling it one, mostly for fear of Stockholm Syndrome getting the best of him. No matter how large the bed was, with an ornate carved cedar headboard and cotton sheets. No matter the plush carpets and en suite bathroom with a gloriously large shower with limitless hot water. No matter the shelf full of books to keep him entertained and patterned wallpaper.

This was still a prison. Tim was still forcibly attached to the bed by a long chain connecting to a thick metal cuff around his wrist he’d yet to figure out how to pick.

Tim had to let himself believe the lock could be picked. He had to hold onto hope there was some kind of escape.

The real contrast of the lavish room wasn’t the chain, though. It was Tim’s current state, naked and questionably close to bleeding out.

Not that it would matter if Tim died.

Ra’s al Ghul had already revived him with a Lazarus Pit at least four times, and he had made it clear he had no qualms doing it again. And again.

Tim went with ‘at least’ as a mental marker, because he was certain the Lazarus Pit was starting to influence his mental state.

However many times it took, repeating the vicious cycle of coming in to torture Tim until his body gave out, then giving him a violent, unwanted rebirth. Each time, Tim was pretty sure he lost a piece of himself, somewhere deep in those glowing waters.

He was sure he’d been angrier and fighting harder to break free once. Now, that anger was drifting somewhere in the Pit, far out of Tim’s reach. Tim had heard that rapid repeated exposure to the waters of Lazarus could have degrading effects on one’s mental state.

But he never thought he would learn that firsthand.

Instead of fighting and clawing at the wrist cuff like Tim had been doing for days, he just laid on the bed, sprawled out and staining the chartreuse sheets a bright crimson, staring at the cuff. One time, Tim had clawed at the cuff until his nails ripped out of their beds and he was biting a pillow in pain, watching his skin shred trying to pull it apart.

Those injuries, much like his feral desperation, were washed away now. Every scar Tim had earned over the years was gone now. He was losing pieces of himself.

After his next death, Tim promised himself he’d redouble his escape efforts. Run his hands along the walls again, test the door frame, find something that he must’ve missed his first dozen tries. He wasn’t going to let himself rot here and be changed into someone else, just wearing the corpse of Tim Drake.

Ra’s could take a lot of things, but he couldn’t have Tim’s humanity.

For now, though, Tim was just going to lay in the bed, breathing as shallowly as he could. All his body’s survival instincts were in overdrive, making him light-headed and his heartbeat a rapid, fluttering thing, trying desperately to hold on. He had yet to figure out how to get his body to let go of those responses yet.

Because the worst part wasn’t dying. The worst part was the animalistic attempt to survive that came just before his body gave out. Tim’s mind had fought alongside his body the first time he died. The second time too.

By the third, Tim had just naively hoped Ra’s would let him stay dead.

Now, Tim was just tired and waiting for it to be over with.

Just when Tim was considering getting up and trying to speed up the process, he heard a commotion. He lifted his head and squinted.

The ninjas who brought his food were always so silent in how they moved that Tim couldn’t hear them even when they were in the room. So the running feet, the yelling-

The gunshots.

Definitely a fight. Tim snapped back to reality. He sat up as fast he could, trying not to let his body dip and sway the way his perception did. It had crossed Tim’s mind, that rescue would come at some point. But he refused to hold onto it as anything other than a futile last hope.

And even now, it didn’t feel real.

No one who would save Tim used guns. The ninjas definitely didn’t use guns either. Tim carefully wrapped the chain around his fist. Whatever energy was left in his body was better spent fighting like hell than just laying there and accepting death.

The door to Tim’s room slammed open and Tim sucked in a breath.

Of all the people it could’ve been.

“Look at that,” a smug, modulated voice crowed. “I’m the lucky guy who actually found your sorry ass.”

Jason Todd reached up and pulled his Red Hood helmet off, shaking his hair loose. Tim didn’t like the look of his smile.

Granted, he didn’t like the look of Jason Todd in general, but that was beside the point.

“What are you doing here?” Tim hissed through clenched teeth.

Jason just shrugged, walking into the room with slow, casual steps. “Bats wanted to find you bad. Bad enough he was willing to call me and offer a truce if I helped storm the stronghouse.” He shrugged like it meant nothing to him. “Looks like you’re lucky I said yes. You’re already half dead.”

“Others are here?” Tim’s breath caught on his hope.

“The whole fucking calvary.” Noises of a brawl sounded in the distance and Jason spread his hands, as if his point was proven. He took another step forward just as a ninja ran into the room, sword raised and charging Jason. Before Tim could warn him, Jason shot the person in the head over his shoulder, making them drop to the floor. A full-bodied flinch went through Tim at the sight of blood spraying the beautiful wallpaper. With an annoyed huff, Jason turned and kicked the door shut.

He didn’t signal for backup. Tim’s skin prickled at the sight of the shut door and Jason stalking toward him.

“This is the part where you say thank you,” Jason prompted lazily, getting within an arm’s reach of Tim. Tim couldn’t stop his body from recoiling, eyes flicking down to the dead body on the floor. “Oh come on. Now’s not the time to worry about morals. I gave them a quick death. You should be thanking me for that too.”

“I’ll thank you when you get me out of this,” Tim said, lifting his arm to show the cuff. He pressed his palm against the cut on his chest, the one responsible for most of his blood loss. Ra’s had blamed Tim for that one, saying it was his fault for squirming too much. Tim knew better, though. He knew every drag of Ra’s’ blade was always exact and purposeful.

Jason tilted his head to the side and leaned in close. He smiled with tiger teeth and snake eyes. “See, I would but-” his eyes dragged up and down Tim’s battered form- “why should I let you go when you look so pretty like this?”

Tim was suddenly all too aware of how naked he was, skin prickling. He grabbed a handful of sheets and yanked them over his lap, trying to cover himself. Jason made no move to stop him, just watching the motion of Tim’s arm as it grasped for a crude attempt at modesty.

“You said Bruce is here,” Tim chose his words carefully, trying not to show fear. He was better than being afraid of Jason of all people. He blamed the worst of his feelings on the vulnerable state he was already in. His fingers clenched the sheets to hide the way they shook.

“He’s around somewhere,” Jason waved his gun in the air dismissively. “But he’s not here, is he?” Another wave of the gun to gesture to the room. Jason’s eyes flicked down to the gushing chest wound. “You really need to cauterize that.”

“Do I look like I have something to cauterize it with?” Tim shot back, sluggishly. He didn’t let Jason distract him from the real point. “If you try anything, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Jason rolled his eyes. He searched around his utility belt, pulling out a lighter and a knife. “Tattle to Bruce? Fight me?” He snorted. “I don’t know which is more amusingly unrealistic.” He flicked the lighter on and held it under the knife.

Tim watched the blade heat up, eyes widening. “You’re not going to-”

“You’ve got a better idea?” Jason arched an eyebrow. “It’ll really piss B off if you fucking die.”

“Won’t be the first time,” Tim muttered under his breath. He cringed as soon as the words came out. That was too much information to be giving to Jason.

Another cruel snort came from Jason. “You got your own taste of the Pit, didn’t you?”

“No,” Tim tried to lie, shifting a bit.

“You did,” Jason hummed. He leaned in even closer, until his face took up Tim’s entire field of vision. “Trust me, I recognize the look in your eyes. Hold still.”

That was the only warning Tim got before a red hot blade was pressed against his skin. Tim opened his mouth to scream against the burning pain, but gloved fingers were shoved into his mouth to muffle the noise.

Tim tried to bite down on Jason’s fingers hard enough to break them, but the gloves were too thick and his body was too weak. All he could do was glare and grasp at the sheets.

The look in Jason’s gaze was terrifying. His lips held a slight smile and he looked hungry, eating up all of Tim’s tormented noises. Tim’s pain was a feast for Jason’s sadism. Tim was struggling just to stay alive and Jason looked like he was having the time of his life, licking his lips and swallowing hard.

Tim was starting to think maybe he preferred Ra’s over this.

Finally, Jason pulled the knife off of Tim’s searing skin and Tim sagged in relief. He almost fell over before Jason caught him around the waist, pressing Tim against his suit. Blood smeared over Jason’s jacket.

His fingers were still in Tim’s mouth.

Tim tried to speak around them but Jason just forced his fingers in deeper, making Tim gag.

“I could probably sneak out with you, you know,” Jason whispered into Tim’s ear. “Tell Bruce I got bored and left. They’d just think it was a bust.”

TIm had never understood Jason’s complex over him. He knew it was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. With Ra’s, Tim could at least find the root of the obsession.

With Jason, not so much.

He was always breathing down Tim’s neck and trying to get a rise out of Tim. Wanting Tim to work with him, pay attention to him, anything he could get. It reminded Tim of trying to tame a needy dog.

This was a step too far, though.

This made it all make sense in ways Tim regretted knowing as soon as it hit him. He twisted his head around until he managed to spit out Jason’s fingers, coughing.

“You don’t have Ra’s’ manpower,” Tim bit out the words. He tugged hard and uselessly against his cuff. “You couldn’t hold me for long.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” Jason hummed. “Tell me, Drake, you pissed off enough to actually try to kill me, yet? Or do you need another dunk?”

“Give me that knife and find out,” Tim curled his hand into a fist. He was bluffing. Just the thought of killing someone nauseated Tim, his eyes briefly flickering over to the dead body on the floor.

No amount of the Lazarus Pit could turn Tim into that. A cold-blooded killer who didn’t even look before he shot. Tim was better than that.

He was better than Jason.

He just had to distract Jason long enough to find where he kept his lock-picking tool, stab him in the eye with it, and then break free and find anyone else.

Maybe Tim was against murder, but there was just enough cold rage in him to crave bloody violence. He squirreled away his logical thoughts on the matter, for now. The situation warranted just a bit of brutality.

Someone had to teach Jason that he didn’t always get to have what he wanted.

Jason dared to groan softly. “Tempting. So fucking tempting. How would you kill me, Drake? Would you gut me? Slit my throat?” He sounded far too into the idea of it. The knife in his hand started trailing up Tim’s bare back. Not deep enough to cut, but still leaving goosebumps of fear in its threatening wake. “We borrow enough Lazarus water and we can take turns killing each other.”

“Borrow,” Tim echoed the word with an incredulous laugh. “Like Ra’s would let you.”

Jason’s laughter was sickening. “Didn’t plan on asking permission.” He paused, just as the knife dragged up to the base of Tim’s skull. “I’m serious, you know.” His voice got quieter. “I’d do it if you wanted to.”

“Kill each other?” TIm’s heart was pounding. He was doing the exact opposite of getting himself out of this situation. He was sinking deeper and deeper into Jason’s clawed grip and didn’t know where the escape route was anymore. He couldn’t pull away from the hold, with the knife pressed where it was. He definitely couldn’t fight Jason like this.

Tim was trapped in what he was pretty sure was a prison of his own making.

“Kill, kiss, fuck.” Jason shrugged. “I’ll take any of the above.”

Tim swallowed down blood and bile. “You couldn’t handle me.” He couldn’t show fear. More than couldn’t, he refused to. Giving Jason his fear would just spur Jason on more. Or maybe piss him off to the point of just killing Tim and leaving him there.

Now, with the teetering edge of Tim’s sanity under Jason’s scrutiny, Tim was positive he’d shatter if he got dipped in those green waters again. And he refused to let Jason keep the pieces left of Tim to himself.

He was not going out like this.

“Wanna bet?” Jason asked. “Winner takes all.”

He sounded insane. He probably was.

And he wasn’t letting Tim dance around a lack of an answer any longer. The tip the knife started to press harder until blood was trickling down his spine.

Placating Jason seemed to be the obvious and smartest survival method. If Tim faked it long enough, he’d have to have an opening sooner or later.

“If you can keep me alive long enough to get the hell out of here, then we’ll talk,” Tim chose his words as carefully as he could. He kept his tone light, in a way that was practically teasing. He hoped it was enough.

Jason practically preened, his whole body shivering against Tim’s. He lifted the knife from Tim’s neck to reach for his belt. Tim was able to suppress his sigh of relief, hearing the lock on his cuff click.

“Can you stand?” Jason asked, pulling away to stand up, but still keeping a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Possessively, almost.

Tim gave him a withering look. “Do I look like I can stand?”

“Good point.” Jason shrugged. He lifted Tim almost too easily, an arm around Tim’s waist to haul him off the bed, forcing the sheet to fall away. “God.” Jason paused for just a moment, looking over Tim’s naked form. It made Tim felt studied under a microscope in a way that made him want to crawl out of his skin.

He’d just signed a deal with the devil, and he was already regretting it.

Jason managed to snap out of it and carried Tim toward the door. Tim just held onto Jason’s neck for support and closed his eyes, trying to convince himself he hadn’t just made the stupidest decision of his life. He could still distantly hear other Bats fighting off ninjas. Salvation so close to Tim, yet still out of reach. Jason easily stepped over all of the dead bodies as they slunk through the hallways, away from the noise and into the darkness.

Tim couldn't escape the awful chill crawling down his spine; pressed against someone who was possibly more psychotic than the madman he was being promised escape from, grandeur illusions traded for the ugly truth of Jason's desire. His flicker of hope felt like it was being snuffed out by every heavy step of Jason’s boots. The best he could pray for was for Jason to give him a cell as nice as the one they were leaving behind. 

Out of one den of vipers and into another.

[python333]

task force 141 reacting to [reader] telling them corny jokes during a mission — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the title says, tf141 reacts to you telling them some corny dad jokes during a mission!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], bad jokes.

note ME AND MY 23 FOLLOWERS ARE STRAIGHT CHILLING RN. i love all of u. anyway gaz is in this one!! yippee!! i thought about ghost and his jokes in that one part of one of the cod games idk ive never played them i watch other people play it but you guys know what im talking about. i also just figured out that i should probably specify gender neutral reader for my fics?? so i'll start doing that! ANYWAY enjoy!! this is all fluff and has some classic tired parent & hyper toddler energy in the first part :}

JOHN “BRAVO SIX” PRICE

➥ insert exasperated sigh here.

➥ he will let you keep telling him jokes, however he will only respond to them with a simple, tired, “Uh huh. Good one. Very funny. Nice one.”

➥ tired dad energy.

➥ the first one you told was okay. he laughed at that one. the tenth one? please, god, just stop talking and put him out of his misery.

➥ he wonders how you know so many jokes, and then wonders if you got them all from ghost.

➥ if you did get them from ghost, trust that he will be telling the man himself all about how you constantly told him bad jokes over comms.

➥ if you just happen to know all of these, he won’t be surprised.

➥ he’ll put up with all of the jokes, for your sake, of course.

➥ the first time this happens, you’re both on a pretty insignificant mission compared to other ones you’ve done.

➥ you’re both talking over comms, just making sure you’re both okay.

➥ that’s when you started your attack.

—

“Captain?” You’d asked, listening as Price hummed in acknowledgment of you talking, “Wanna hear a joke?”

You could practically hear his hesitation, before he responded with a tentative, almost scared, “... Sure, [c/n].”

A delighted grin split across your face as you asked him, “How does dry skin affect you at work?”

He thought for a moment before asking, “How?”

“You don’t have any elbow grease to put into it.” You heard Price give a small chuckle, and decided to ask, “Wanna hear another one?”

Price’s second mistake of the evening, “Sure.”

“Where do boats go when they’re sick?” You asked, still keeping a lookout on your surroundings on your end while focusing on telling your Captain shitty jokes.

“Where?” Price asked.

“To the boat doc.” It took Price a moment, before he huffed out a small laugh and muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “Jesus, that’s terrible.”

Without warning, you tell him another one. He asks why, when, how, or what, whichever was appropriate for the joke you told, and slowly but surely his questioning tone became tired and exasperated. You don’t know why, but somehow his miserable tone made you even more motivated to tell him corny jokes.

“Do you just… memorize all of these?” Price asked in the middle of you telling a new joke, sounding almost astonished.

“Yes I do. Just for these missions, I do,” You answered confidently, smiling when Price sighed. You continued on with your joke, and even though Price didn’t respond verbally, you still told the punch line. You had repeated this for at least ten minutes, all of those minutes appallingly slow to Price, the poor man having to endure your bullshit for such a short yet such a long time. At the tenth minute, the only thing that stopped you from continuing was Gaz’s voice coming on over comms and interrupting you, telling everyone else on the mission that they could head back to the rendezvous point. Price, relieved at the interruption, gave a thankful sigh and you could hear him getting up from his spot before he muted himself.

You sighed as well, yours a direct opposite of Prices, full of disappointment, but you let it go. Besides, you’ll always have more opportunities to terrorize Price with your jokes on the ride back to base!

—

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

➥ he has the same reaction he had with ghost telling him corny jokes.

➥ he’ll call your jokes terrible, but will still laugh at them somehow.

➥ will 100% put up with your jokes, will laugh every time, even if his laughter slowly becomes more and more strained, he’ll laugh.

➥ tells you some jokes back, but after your 4th joke, he gives up and accepts his fate.

➥ he will suffer for your entertainment, guaranteed.

➥ he will be sure to remind you of how terrible your jokes are though!!

➥ he’s honestly impressed by how many jokes you’ve memorized.

➥ he’ll happily support you doing this to other people, no matter how much it damages his soul when you do it to him.

➥ the first time you do it to him, he starts getting deja vu from when ghost did it to him.

➥ “Oh, God, no’ ye too,” he’d groan playfully the moment you start telling him jokes, getting flashbacks.

➥ enjoys your jokes, even if he would do anything for you to shut up, he still enjoys them.

—

You and Soap were camping out in the same spot—atop a roof of a tall building that was just tall enough to give you a view of practically every other building in the area as well as the ground. It was cold up there, the air so cold that every time you’d exhaled, your breath turned to white condensation before fading into the clear sky.

It was fair to say that you and Soap were fairly bothered by the cold, so you really had no other option, you just had to start telling your jokes. How else could you warm the both of you up? Sure, it wouldn’t do anything physically, but mentally? It was sure to practically melt Soap’s brain.

“Soap?” Soap hummed and looked over at you, “Wanna hear a joke?”

Soap smiled, and decided to humor you, “Sure. Joke ‘way.”

“Why couldn’t the bike stand up by itself?” You asked, turning fully towards Soap. He didn’t bother to think before asking, “Why?”

“Because it was two-tired.” It took him a moment, but eventually he huffed out a small laugh and nodded.

“No’ bad,” He’d hummed, “Want me to say one?”

“Go ahead.”

“How did vikings communicate with one another?” Soap asked, turning fully towards you in turn.

“How?”

“By Norse code,” Soap had said with a grin on his face, clearly proud of the joke. You laughed quietly at it.

Without asking, you tell another joke. “Why did the bed wear a disguise?”

“Why?”

“It was undercover.”

Soap chuckled and turned back down to the ground, assuming you were done. But, oh boy, did he assume wrong. You told another one. He asked for the punchline. You delivered. You told another. He asked again. You delivered, again. Can you recall just how many jokes you told that fateful night? No. Does that make the memory any less funny to look back on? No.

Soap’s expression slowly turned to one of misery, his laughter becoming strained and slowly coming to a stop, the light in his eyes fading away as God himself seemed to appear behind you and reassure him that it would all be over soon. God, how he wished that were true.

Soon enough, you were both told over comms that you were able to safely make it back to the rendezvous point, and Soap couldn’t be happier.

He let you tell him more jokes during the walk over there, of course, and made sure to tell you how awful they were, but still endured them for your sake.

—

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

➥ it’s like he’s been preparing for this moment his whole life.

➥ he’ll put up with your jokes and will tell you a joke back every single time.

➥ at some point you guys will probably use a joke on each other that the other one told you.

➥ he actively enjoys the joke-telling.

➥ he probably tells the first joke and that’s what triggers you to tell him your own.

➥ he’s annoyed soap, gaz, price, and a few others with his jokes, yet you’re the first one to go back and forth with him.

➥ every time you tell him one he’ll make a mental note of it and remember it for annoying people on future missions.

➥ probably thinks some of the jokes are genuinely funny but still knows that it annoys people.

➥ if you tell him a corny joke related to ghosts, he’ll probably laugh more.

➥ i am aware that that is pretty corny in itself but look at the title man what did you expect.

➥ he’ll probably tell some jokes about your [c/n] to you back.

➥ he’ll know when you’re reusing a joke and calls you out on it.

➥ “Does this require more creativity than you expected, [c/n]?”

➥ [in a perfect imitation of matpat’s voice] i find his jokes delightful! [in regular voice, now whispering as if scared i’m going to get caught by ghost saying this] i’m lying. he’s my fictional father figure so i am very much obligated to enjoy his jokes.

—

”[c/n], how copy?” You heard Ghost’s voice crackle through over comms, and pushed the PTT button on your small ear piece to respond.

“Copy, doing just fine,” You responded, “Little bored, if I’m gonna be honest.”

“Oh really?” Ghost breathed out, sounding amused. You could hear some gunfire on his end, and the wind his his earpiece making the annoying whoosh noise you hated. Just a few moments later, Ghost spoke up again, “Y’wanna hear a joke to ease your boredom?”

“Sure,” You’d hummed, looking around to make sure you were still safe to just stay where you were and chat for a moment.

“What do you call a boomerang that doesn’t come back?” Ghost asked, his voice dry and sarcastic. You thought for a moment before shrugging—even though he couldn’t see you—and asking, “What?”

“A stick.” Ghost delivered. The stupid joke made you huff out a small laugh and mutter under your breath something about how good it was, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically hear Ghost’s self-satisfied smile.

“Another?” Ghost offered.

“How about I tell one?”

“Alright. Go ‘head.”

“How do ghosts stay in shape?” You asked, listening to Ghost’s amused huff on the other end of the line, like he knew where you were going with the joke but decided not to say the punch line for you.

“How?”

“They exorcize,” You responded, grinning, proud of yourself for thinking of that one.

“That’s not bad,” Ghost hummed, “Not bad at all.”

Ghost stayed quiet for another moment before asking, “Where do fish keep their money?”

“Where?”

“In a river bank,” Ghost said, his smile almost audible in his words.

“Nice one, L.t,” You breathed out, laughing quietly.

“We could do this all night,” Ghost mused, oddly happy at the sound of your quiet laughter, a little rustling audible on his end.

“Is that a challenge?” You asked in response to his musings, to which Ghost responds with a simple, affirmative hum. You think for a moment, before asking, “Why can’t a leopard hide?”

“Why?”

“Because he’s always spotted.”

Ghost hummed, mentally writing that one down before asking, “Why did the scarecrow get an award?”

“Why?”

“Because he was outstanding in his field,” Ghost delivered. With each joke you cringed more, and yet you kept responding with the same bullshit. The two of you went back and forth with the shitty jokes, eliciting responses from each other like, “That’s a good one,” or, “God, that’s awful.” It really had no in between, it was one or the other.

Eventually, and just in time because you were beginning to run out of jokes, Price’s voice crackled through over comms, letting you both know that everything was now under control and gave you both the coordinates for the rendezvous point. Before you get up from your spot, you can hear Ghost asking Price, “Wanna hear a joke?”, and Price’s quick response of, “I’m good”, the quick interaction making you laugh quietly.

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” You muttered, voice full of amusement.

“Damn right he doesn’t,” Ghost huffed out, chuckling quietly when Price groaned and muted himself.

—

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

➥ he just gives up and accepts his fate.

➥ i’m actually in full belief that he’ll just let you tell jokes and won’t even respond.

➥ if y’all are in the same spot, he’ll just stare at you in astonished silence, wondering how you know all of this and also wondering if he’ll make it out of this alive.

➥ i think he’s lovely, i also think that he would just let you do whatever.

➥ it’s like an older brother participating in his younger sibling’s tea party with their stuffed animals and bright pink plastic tea cups and fake tea.

➥ he considers taking out his earpiece but then realizes that that’s a bad idea so he just suffers through it.

➥ surprisingly, it’s easy to focus on his tasks even with your voice in the background.

➥ he’s only heard of ghost’s shitty jokes, and thinks that this might be worse, somehow.

➥ i mean, it’s not like he can’t ignore it, but he feels kind of bad that he does.

➥ he hums every now and then to remind you that he’s listening but he’s too caught up in pretending to listen to actually listen.

➥ when the mission’s over and you eventually stop telling your jokes he realizes how quiet it is without your voice in the background laughing at your own jokes.

—

“Why do bees have sticky hair?” You asked, this being about your twentieth joke of that evening. Gaz hummed in response, tone questioning, and you delivered the punch line, “Because they use a honeycomb.”

Gaz didn’t pay much attention to any of your punchlines, really just letting you get all of this out of your system, figuring that if you didn’t do it now it’d happen to some poor soul later. He accepted his fate early on, the moment you told your third dad joke, he knew it wouldn’t end. Call it a sixth sense of his, knowing when you’d be persistent in your quest to annoy every member of the 141, but he just knew.

“Where do surfers learn to surf?” You asked, giggling quietly at your own joke, despite the punchline being stupid. Gaz didn’t even respond, yet you still delivered, “At boarding school.”

Gaz considers taking his earpiece out for a moment, then thinks again and decides it’s probably better not to, knowing Price’s voice could crackle through into the earpiece and let you both know to head to the rendezvous point. Sighing quietly, he continued to look around him, scanning the area as he walked around, making sure no enemies were left alive. Your voice still hummed in the background, the sound becoming more normal to him and less distracting.

“Why did the tourists feel disappointed after seeing the Liberty Bell?” No response from Gaz. “Because it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.”

“What do rabbits need after getting caught in the rain?” A small, questioning hum. “A hare dryer.”

You continued to tell your jokes, and in the middle of one, Gaz interrupted.

“Y’know,” He started, “If you didn’t already have a call sign, we’d be calling you Jester.”

“I’d love to go by Jester,” You laughed quietly, lightly, “I feel like it’d be more fitting.”

“Probably, yeah,” Gaz chuckled quietly, about to say something else before Price’s voice came through over comms and let you both know to head over to the rendezvous point. After you stop telling your jokes and mute yourself, Gaz can’t help but notice how quiet it becomes.

He got a bit too used to your voice, it seems. He muted himself and sighed, pulling up the coordinates to the rendezvous point and heading over there.

[sisville-v11]

todays the 1 year anniversary of techdogs release, and god. i cant believe its been a year now dude

ive definitely talked about the impact this album left on me here before, but i think i need to like. actually elaborate on that, because techdog had a paw in what would end up being a complete life restructure i went through earlier this year that fundamentally changed the core of who i was. for this post, though, i wanna talk more specifically about techdog itself and what was going through my mind as the parts were dropping & immediately afterwards rather than its aftermath of what it did to me. this is probs gonna be a long post so best to put this read more here (update from future me after i finished this post: i was right its extremely long)

so prior to techdogs release, i already had some familiarity with patricias work cause a friend of mine introduced me to her stuff, and at the time i thought her songs were... pretty cool! i think it was rosa, daylight spectrum, and visiting narcissa i listened to sometimes before this, but it wasnt often and i was still knee-deep in my c418 fixation so she wasnt what i would consider a favorite artist of mine at that time. enter techdog.

i saw she had just uploaded TECHDOG 1, and saw her pinned comment saying it was a 4-part project shed been working on since 2022, and that shed be uploading each new part every day. cool! took a listen through it, thought it was a neat lil collection of tracks but i didnt think too much about it then, it sorta came and went for me.

the next day came and TECHDOG 2 dropped. much like techdog 1, i these tracks sorta came and went for me though i did like them a bit more than techdog 1's, outside of the first one which i found super catchy. i did notice at the time it was a bit longer than techdog 1, but didnt think much of it then.

new day, new techdog. TECHDOG 3 dropped, and it was here that i started noticing the trend of each part being about 20 minutes longer than the last. something else i immediately noticed here is that this album sounded a lot more mature than the first two, but couldnt pin down why exactly i thought that at the time. regardless, i enjoyed it notably more than the first two techdogs.

then TECHDOG 4 dropped and god DAMN was this a good-ass album, at the time it was easily my favorite of the TECHDOGs and also my new favorite album of hers, i absolutely love skillful use of repetition in music and i felt every song in 4 executed it perfectly, so many of the songs in here stick out in my mind even today (especially big mention to tracks 1 and 10... and again just about all the other tracks in here theyre all kickass). so that was that, the techdog series was concluded and she mentioned she would be uploading the compilation of all 4 albums the next day, which i was immediately planning to listen through the entirety of again and i was very much looking forward to it.

and then shit got real.

when shit gets real

TECHDOG 5 dropped to my COMPLETE and utter surprise and it threw me so off guard that i had literally no idea what would be in store with this one. i re-listened to some of techdog 4 to get myself warmed back up before jumping back in and... i was not ready for the tone shift. the pure emotion of these songs. GEGTGEGHGETECETHTOTHCHDHCOCDCODODOD literally sounds like an anxiety attack perfectly translated from emotion into song. SO MANY of these songs are perfect transcriptions of raw negative emotion put into song form, i dont know how the fuck she did that. and the entire progression of the album sounds like youre being pulled deeper, deeper into the negativity and fear and pain and turmoil of your mind, by the time you get to the last track its clear theres no way youre seeing the light anytime soon, only the growing darkness awaits.

(context for those that dont know: excursions is the c418 album that completely reshaped the way i thought about music back in 2020 and my brain latched onto his music extremely hard as a result. and then i realized that was happening again with techdog)

so uh. i think its suffice to say that i was locked in when it came to hearing this series out til the end. and i didnt have long to wait for continuing it, as TECHDOG 6 would drop the next day.

i saw it drop in the morning, and its description immediately stuck with me - "Feeling pain." the feeling of pain being translated into music was something where i had NO clue at all how she couldve possibly executed it, and its something i found myself pondering the entire day until i finally listened to it in the evening. i already wasnt feeling great that day, so i think what happened next only exasperated my emotions further while listening to it.

pain. pain its all pain. of course musical pain would be noise. of course it would sound like garbled noise thats what pain FEELS LIKE. the onslaught of static garble was so intense that i had to take off my headphones and listen to the album through my laptop speakers. for the rest of the albums duration i was just laying on my bed and, letting my ears absorb the musical onslaught this album was bringing forth.

techdog 6 isnt my favorite of the techdogs, but i think its extremely impressive how, once again, patricia was out here translating pure emotion to sound almost to a tee; its pretty clear to me that all of the tracks here emphasize different types of pain one would go through. the first few tracks focus more on physical pain, the type of searing physical pain you'd feel from being horribly beaten up, while the rest sound more akin to mental pain, bubbling mental anguish from being depressed, feeling like a failure because you cant do what comes so easily to others, or... other similarly horrible mental health episodes. both very different types of pain but still unbearable to go through all the same. DODTDODHDODTOGOTOHTETHTGHCHGHEGCGEGCECECEC sounds like desperately trying to convince yourself youre okay when you absolutely arent and youre spiraling about it in a manic state. DEDGDEDCDEDGEOEGECGHGCGOCTCOCHOTOHOTHTHTHT is terrifying, terrifying beyond what my vocabulary can adequately describe it as, the absolute rock bottom that leaves you feeling broken beyond all repair, that there's no way you're escaping this, youre trapped in the pits of hell as the leviathans swarm around you until you finally relent and you need to just give up now.

until... the final track happens. GEGCGEGHGEGCEDECEHCOCHCDHTHDHODTDODTOTOTOT happens.

i was not ready for this song to sound like that. to hit like that. a song so harsh yet so beautiful, blasting tiny rays of sun down through the roaring sea of pain for you to grasp onto and try to free yourself from the pits. a release. its the only song thats ever made me ugly sob, and for 20 minutes at that, its so inexplicably powerful. guys this is still the most beautiful song ive ever heard in my life, i still think this a year after it hit me for the first time. for all techdog relistens after this, i needed to forbid myself from relistening to this song unless i was doing an entire album runthrough from the start, or at least the entirety of the dark side portions, because this is the type of experience you cant ruin with overexposure. this is the type of song you only get the pleasure of experiencing once in a blue moon. likely even less often than that. its just- god. god damn. i cant believe it. i cant believe this song exists

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the dust clears and TECHDOG 7 reveals itself the next day. patricia made it a point to say that this one was the true final part in the techdog series. i didnt even know if we would get a techdog 7... how the hell could you follow up that last song? in what way are you able to do that?

...with drone, i found out.

i remember i was confused when i first started playing 7 because i heard nothing coming through my headphones at all - thats intentional, as i soon found out. it starts out with nothing, and each track slowly but surely brings things back into focus, back to reality as the hollowness left from the aftermath of the pain starts to be replaced with regular emotion again. different emotion than before, but still, better than emptiness. i dont have much to say about OCOTOCODOCOTOCECTCDCTHTDTETDGDEDHDEGEHEGEHGHGHGHG specifically, as i feel it speaks for itself, but i did want to highlight the way techdog 7s tone changes after this because i find it really, really interesting.

the way GEGTGEGHGEGTGECETEHETOTHTCTHDHCHOHCDCOCDCODODODOD sounds so desolate, as you start desperately screaming into the void harder and harder hoping to hear a response back. the way DODTDODHDODTDOGOTOHOTETHTGTHCHGHEHGCGEGCGECECECEC sounds like trying to process the loss of a version of yourself you never thought would leave, the way THTCTHTOTHTCTHDHCHOHCECOCDCOGODOEODGDEDGDEGEGEGEG sounds like dusting off the rubble and finally accepting that this is the way it is. (some of) the stages of grief on full display here.

but, just in case there is anything left... the 2nd-to-last track, DEDGDEDCDEDGDEOEGECEGHGCGOGCTCOCHCOTOHOTOHTHTHTHT is one last journey through reliving all the past trauma in hopes of finding something, anything from beforehand before calling it quits for good, yet coming up empty handed and being like fine ill let it go, ready to accept the circumstances and move on, try to rebuild yourself with what you do have. this was another song that i had to like... stop what i was doing, and fixate my full attention on everything happening in the song. it was too intense to ignore.

as was the final track of the techdog series, GEGCGEGHGEGCGEDECEHECOCHCDCHTHDHOHDTDODTDOTOTOTOT. a song that absorbed me for the last 30 minutes of its runtime, my entire being felt synergized with the energy this song brought with it until... suddenly, its gone. its over. and i had no idea what the hell i just experienced.

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even now, i dont really know how to describe what happened after i finished techdog. i barely remember it, its all kind of a blur.

one thing i do specifically remember is that i tried remixing a song from techdog a couple days after i finished the series, and eventually scrapped it after it got a ways in production because uhhh... dude i slowly realized that i couldnt make music anymore. at all. techdog had set the standard of music in my brain so high that i would not be able to make any new songs i was proud of until i buckled myself down and figured out how to stop playing bab songs on my fisher price keyboard and start making some real shit. there was a path my music was taking shortly before techdog did what it did to me, and that IMMEDIATELY got terminated and hard branched elsewhere because i realized oh my god, that type of music i was making sucks actually and i need to get better right now before i make anything thats worth showing people again. and thats how it took 8 months for my confidence in making music to come back, after i sat down, learned some new plugins, and learned how to make crazy shit.

...i sorta lost focus a bit there oop. but yeah, techdog still holds such a special place in my heart and its so often that ill still revisit some of the songs cause they go hard as fuck. especially those from 4, 5, and 7, theres some songs in there that i absolutely adore. if i had to rank my enjoyment of each album nowadays casual-listening wise it would probably go 4 = 5 = 7 >> 6 > 1 > 3 > 2. i think theyre all great, its mostly just a vibes thing for me that has me preferring some over others.

i dont know how to end this big ass mini essay i wrote about my time experiencing techdog after saying all those things i did about it. so uhhhh... i guess thats it. maybe ill attach a wip of that scrapped techdog remix in a reblog just so it sees the light of day at all? idk

...ok yea im ending this post now

[kaye-go-moo]

Shapes and Strange Ciphers AU: Need a hand? Pt. 2

SaSC by me

Shapes and Pines by @/void-dude

Next Part

Jheselbraum, on the rare occasions she saw Bill in town, noticed his behavior gradually becoming increasingly strange over the span of a few weeks. At first, his movements were clumsy and awkward, stumbling through the streets like a child learning to walk. She initially assumed he was drunk, but as time passed, it became clear something else was wrong. His walk became more refined, but completely different from his usual stride—his head held high, his steps confident, and his hands clasped neatly behind his back. However, this wasn't nearly as disturbing as his newfound hostility towards others. Bill, who had always been somewhat stand-offish but never rude, acted arrogant, treating those around him as if they were beneath him. 

Bill also appeared disheveled; his hair was long and tangled, his clothes dirty, and his face gaunt. There was also something off with his eyes. Jheselbraum couldn't place it, but they just looked wrong—dark and empty, like something had crawled inside of Bill's skin and was poorly imitating him. Jheselbraum was filled with a growing sense of unease, the feeling in her gut that had kept her in gravity falls returned, leading her to pay Bill a visit.

-

When she entered his house, Jheselbraum was taken aback by its state. The place was a wreck—papers strewn everywhere, cobwebs draped over the furniture, and dust filled the air. Is Bill really living here?

She called out his name, but there was no response. She ventured down into the basement and found him working on the portal. He looked awful. With his long hair tied into a messy ponytail, revealing his condition was far worse than Jheselbraum had initially believed, "Bill?"

Bill jumped and looked up in surprise, “J-Jhesel? What are you doing here?”

"I was worried. About you." Her gaze lingered, examining his decrypate from, her face a mix of shock and concern.

Bill’s expression darkened as he turned to continue his work., “Im fine. You can leave now.”

"Fine? You call this fine?” Her anger surged, “Bill, what the hell is going on with you?" 

For once, Jheselbraum didn’t hold back. Normally, she would leave in quiet frustration, wanting to avoid confrontation, but not this time. She had reached her limit. If escalating was the only way to get Bill to listen, then so be it.

She unleashed everything—her concerns and frustration from the last year, picking apart his every action. She questioned his sanity, asking if he was having a mental crisis. She tore him to pieces before threatening to contact his family, “Is that what it will to get you to pull your head out of your ass?”. However, this only managed to anger Bill and send him over the edge.

Bill had been frozen in stunned silence, but the mention of his family caused him to snap. His face contortinf with rage as he yelled, “Leave them out of this!”

He unleashed a barrage of cutting insults, using her insecurities and regrets as amunition. In his rage, he grabbed a nearby tool and flung it at her.

It missed, bouncing off the wall behind her and clattering to the floor. Jheselbraum stood in shock, face pale and eyes wide. She stumbled back, turned, and bolted up the stairs, fleeing the house and driving away.

Bill sat there, paralyzed, the weight of his actions crashing down on him. He wanted to chase after her, but his legs wouldn’t move. Minutes passed before he managed to stumbled to his feet and up the upstairs. The front door was open, left ajar by Jheselbraum. He reached outt, his hand hovered over the doorknob. I should apologize.

“You should stay here,” Bill shifted his attention to Ford. “Things will only escalate if you go after her.”

Bill, deflated, slowly closing the door. He stood in silence, staring blankly at the knob, fog clouding his mind. “You should rest.” Ford glided in front of Bill, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Bill silently obeyed, numbly turning and walking to his bedroom. He slumped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him, and he feel fast sleep, unaware of what Ford did while he rested.

When he woke, he back in the basement, a sticky note left by Ford sitting in front of him: ‘There's nothing to worry about. The problem is solved. Continue fulfilling your legacy.’

A pit formed in Bill’s stomach and a lump formed in his throat. He swallowed hard, let out a shaky breath. Rising to his feet, he turned back to the portal, but a chilling anxiety brewed in his chest as he forced himself to continue working.

-

A week had passed with Bill tirelessly working on the Portal and Ford taking over his body at night. But eventually, something clicked in Bill's mind. Why wasn’t anyone banging down the front door? Why hadn’t anyone called? Knowing Jheselbraum, she would’ve definitely told his family about their fight. So why was no one there?

A cold shiver ran down his spine as Ford’s words flashed in his mind ‘the problem is solved’. What did that mean? Bill thought back, remembering all of his doubts, doubts he had kept hidden—doubts Ford had somehow known. Ford knew exactly what to tell Bill to keep his fears down. To keep him down. Something wasn’t right.

Unable to shake the feeling, Bill raced out of the house and into town. Heading towards Jheselbraum's apartment, he spotted her wandering the streets. Relief washed over him as he ran up to her and began apologizing, stopping when he noticed her confused and worried expression.

"Do I know you?"

Bill’s heart sank. His face paled as he looked her over. She was wearing the same clothes from when he last saw her, but no coat or shoes—in the middle of winter. He quickly wrapped his jacket around her, ushering her towards his car and out of the cold. But she recoiled in fear, wriggling out of Bill’s grasp before running away.

He tried to chase after her, but his exhaustion slowed him to a wheezing crawl. Bill spent the rest of the day searching, but the cold forced him to stop. Desperation pushed him to ask the police for help, but all they could offer was a vague promise to “keep an eye out.”

Bill had no choice but to return home. He needed to call the Jheselbraums family and tell them. Tell them... what exactly? That their daughter had gone mad? That she lost her mind and was now wondering underdressed through the cold? Thinking about it, he realized he didn't even remember their numbers. He couldn’t remember anyone's number. Bill never could, always having to rely on an old notebook with the everyones contact information listed.

Bill frantically searched the house, but the notebook was gone. Even his phone had disappeared.His breath quickened, becoming ragged, as the world collapsed in on him. Nothing was where it should, no one was acting how they should be. Nothing was right and he had no one—not his friend or his family. He was alone.

Bill crumpled to the floor in a sobbing heap before waking to a familiar cosmos. Ford hovered above him, trying to explain away all of Bill’s doubts.

Bill stayed quiet, listening to Ford try and rationalize what Bill saw. Then Ford paused, seemingly interrupted by a silent voice. He looked down at Bill, examining him with a narrowed eye.

"I want the truth." Bill's voice was cold, his eye fixed on Ford.

Ford sighed with annoyance, looking at Bill with disappointment. "I'll give you this one chance, Cipher."

With a snap, the dream unraveled, and Bill was bombarded with flashes of creatures and places he had never seen before, inventions he could never dream of creating.

"This will all be ours, my protégé.” Ford gestured towards the images, “Anything we desire. Everything we deserve."

Bill's head was spinning. Overwhelmed, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, "No! I asked for the truth, Stanford! Give me the truth!"

Ford's eye darkened, and a flash of red anger painted his shape. He closed his eye, recollecting himself before he raised his hand, fingers bracing against each other. His eye reopened, staring at Bill with a cold indifference.

"To think I would've let you join me."

Snap

-

Ford took control of Bill's body, forcing it up from the floor and over to the basement door. First, he changed the doors passcode before heading down to the lab. There, he grabbed one of his secret side projects: a pin lock, which he installed on the closet door. Afterwards, he turned his attention to the portal, picking up where Bill had left off. He worked until Bill’s body reached its limit, its hand’s trembling too much to use. Finally, Ford locked himself in the closet. Now, Bill was trapped—only able to leave when Ford possessed his body.

-

Ford continued working on the portal, knowing it would be complete in a few more days. However, Bill didn't make it easy. When awake, he tried breaking down the door, leaving his body too exhausted for Ford to use, delaying the portal's completion. Bill’s continued escape efforts lead him to work his frail body past its limits. In a desperate attempt to slow Ford's progress, he restored to hurting himself. Forcing Ford to work with broken bones and trembling limbs. Ford tried reasoning with Bill—through flattery or insult—doing everything he could to break him down. But Bill held strong.

After a few days, Bill finally managed to break down the door and weakly climb upstairs, only to be met with another lock installed by Ford. In that moment, Bill nearly gave up. His body was wrecked, the pain being the only thing keeping him conscious. Ford tried encouraging Bill’s weakness, insisting his actions were pointless. But Bill fought off his desire to quit and steeled his resolve. 

He tried kicking down the metal door, but his legs were too weak. Taking a moment to assess his surroundings, he realized he could just break through the wooden wall instead. With renewed determination, he shuffled back down to the lab and grabbed his tools. He spent hours tearing at the the wall, all while enduring Ford’s manipulation. Eventually he broke through.

Bill raced to the front door, only to be halted by a raging blizzard. It was too risky to push through the snow—he could die of hypothermia or pass out, giving Ford to the chance to regain control or manipulate someone else into finishing the portal. He had no choice but to find a solution inside the house.

Bill frantically searched for something—anything—that might help him deal with Ford. It was a feverish attempt made more difficult as night fell. Ford had taken the time to remove every light bulb in the house, leaving Bill in the dark and forcing him to return to the basement. There he found a busted old torch that he used to light his way.

During his search, he came across an old photo of him with his friends. A heavy pit formed in his stomach as he stared at the picture, a reminder of forgotten memories and broken friendships. Before he could dwell on it for too long, another photo caught his eye.

In it, a younger Bill smiled proudly as he held up a first-place prize from a science contest. Beside him stood someone he hadn't seen in almost a decade—his old babysitter, first friend, and big brother, Tad. Tears welled up in Bill’s eyes as he realized just how much he missed Tad. How much he’s needed him—now more than ever.

Suddenly, an idea grounded him. Bill jumped to his feet, rifling through drawers until he found an unfinished postcard addressed to Tad. “What good will that do?” Fords voice cut through Bills thoughts “He abandoned you, Cipher. What makes you think he’ll come back?” Bill paused. Ford was right. And even if he wasn’t, who was Bill to ask Tad to travel all the way to Gravity Falls just to help him? They hadn’t spoken in years. Did Tad even remember Bill existed?

Taking a deep breath, Bill steadied himself. I won’t know unless I send it. He wrote “PLEASE COME!” followed by his home address. Once the blizzard died down, he bundled up and made his way into the woods, placing the letter in an old, rusted mailbox. He lifted the flag and left, hoping—praying—Tad would receive it.

-

While waiting for Tad, Bill loaded up on caffeine and energy medication, trying to stay awake for as long as possible. He couldn't risk Ford taking over his body and locking himself somewhere he couldn't escape. Bill continued his search for something against Ford, but he couldn’t find his journals. He nearly tore the house apart, but there was nothing—Ford had either hidden or destroyed them. Defeated, Bill shifted his focus to dismantling the portal.

It was far from an easy task. Bill's body was weak from a lack of food and sleep, and with his journals gone, he had to rely on scattered notes and his foggy memory. He gathered what he could find, but between Ford’s constant badgering and Bill's sleep deprivation, it was hard to focus. Things only got worse when he started to have hallucinations—or what he convinced himself were hallucinations.

Every bump and creak sent Bill into panic, scrambling to find its cause. The only way he could get any work done was by tricking himself into thinking everything was fine. As long as he saw Ford, he was safe, his presence brought Bill a strange sense comfort. He could keep and eye on him and didn’t have to be completely alone—though its debatable if being alone would’ve be better than hanging out with your captor.

One night, after ignoring a series of thumps upstairs, Bill was startled by the sound of breaking glass. He looked around and realized Ford was gone. He’d been so focused on the portal that Bill didn’t notice his absence. Grabbing a long metal pipe, he raced upstairs, slowing as he neared the source of the noise. He was chilled to see a decaying body crawling through the broken window, its eye glowing a golden hue.

"Stop with these games, Cipher." The corpse’s voice was raspy, its words disturbingly familiar. Ford. "I gave you the opportunity to do one worthwhile thing in your pathetic life, and you wasted it."

Bill froze, trembling as the corspe staggered to its feet. "This is your last chance."

A bloody hand reached out toward him. Bill's grip on the pipe tightened.

"Cipher, my protégé, don't—"

Before Ford could finish, Bill swung the pipe down onto the hand, then back at Ford’s face, landing with a sickening crack. The corpse slammed into the ground. Bill stood panting, waiting for Ford to get back up, but the body lay still. Shining his flashlight into the dead man's eyes, Bill saw no glow—the pupils small and unreactive.

Bill dragged the body outside. It took him a while, but eventually, he managed to lay it beside the back porch. He stumbled back inside and returned to the basement. He tried dismantling the portal, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. Shaking so violently he could barley hold a tool without dropping it. He told himself that he was just the cold, but even after an hour of sitting in the warm basement, his hands pressed tightly against his chest, the trembling wouldn’t stop. And then came the tears.

-

At one point, Bill toyed with the idea of blowing up the house. It would be the quickest solution and would set Ford back significantly. The idea intrigued him, but the intrusive thought of being inside when it exploded quickly snuffed out the plan. Besides, it was only a temporary fix. Bill needed something permanent. And then there was Tad. If he comes—when he comes— how would he feel, finding nothing but the ashes of Bill’s homes?

-----

Lore Comments

[necroticyuzu]

BG3 Tav Backstory Bash

This is a challenge to help people flesh out their Tav’s backstory by exploring their past. It is organized into four sections with seven prompts. You can treat this as a monthly challenge or a general project. You can write headcanons, fics, or share art based on the prompts! You can interpret the prompts however you want. If you want to share use the tag #bg3backstorybash original post by @kelandrin's

This seems really fun and wanted to give it a try.

Don't wanna bother others too much but hope you who got tagged will have some fun with this, don't feel forced to join and I wish you a continuing great day. @falcatamandarina, @voloslobotomyservice, @fan-tav-stic, @spiritfaredfox,

Tamia Geraldottir

Half-Orc ~ Knowledge Cleric of Oghma ~ Neutral Good

Baby

~Parents~

- Father Gerald Bendalson: A Half-Dwarf (Technically Quarter-Dwarf) from Blackgate in Baldur's Gate who grew up dreaming about working in the famous Candlekeep and was finally able to fulfill that dream in his 50s when his two daughters became independent. Much like his father, and his father before him, he's attracted to big, strong women. So when he saw Vel showing off her amazing strength in a gladiator show he immediately fell for her. How'd he manage to woo this mighty woman who could easily rip him into pieces? Puns! Even the bad ones.

- Mother Vel: A proud Orc from the Cool Woods up in the Silver Marches who enjoys seeking challenges that put her strength and tactical thinking to the test. The more challenging the better and if she gets to show that off for others then that's a bonus. While participating in a gladiator show out in Rivington she managed to catch the attention of a tall dwarf who after the show wooed her with some absolute bangers of puns. Not one for settling down she'd rather keep on traveling around seeking challenges while her partner looks after their two daughters.

~Birth~

- Hammer 23rd 1463, was the day Tamia was born after taking her sweet time by being both an overdue baby and also taking almost two full days of labor which really annoyed her mother Vel who just wanted it over with.

~First word~

- Dada, which really made Gerald's day for sure while he was feeding her usual porridge about a month after her first birthday.

- An update that he made sure to brag about for everyone to hear whether or not they wanted to hear about it.

~When they first walked~

- Much to Daddy Gerald's worries and Mommy Vel's frustration, Tamia's first steps did not happen until she was about 15 months old.

- She was just so damned adamant about either scooting or crawling to move herself around in her little home.

~Tantrum~

- The first notable tantrum that Gerald could remember was when he was gonna head out for work which freaked her as she entered her separation anxiety stage at 10 months old.

~First sickness~

- Breaking out in hives and getting very itchy from trying out eating cherries for the first time around 9 months old. Really freaked Daddy Gerald out at the time until Grandmother Siv calmed him down. Turns out Tamia got that trait from said Grandmother.

Childhood

~Friends~

- Tamia had a fair bit of friends from the neighborhood but very few strong enough to last up until adulthood.

- Ranvia Bronzegrace: The one notable friend that stayed strong was with a Shield Dwarf called Ranvia whose family runs a repair business of wagons with a mix of smithing and carpentry that's doing great thanks to all the trade traffic through the Black Dragon Gate. Once old enough Ranvia joins her parents in the family business and one day will take it over.

~Siblings~

- Sarina Veldottir: Her 2 years younger sister who's a lot more outgoing than Tamia herself and a troublemaker to boot. Always gets herself into trouble one way or another to the point of aging their poor old Dad Gerald at least 10 years. Be it starting fights with older kids (and usually winning while fighting dirty) or trying to steal various random objects or food items from visiting merchants waiting to enter Baldur's Gate through the Black Dragon Gate. Tamia has to often step in to apologize for her antics while their father is off at work. Sarina very much looks up to their Mother Vel and aspires to be as strong and adventurous as she is. Once deemed old enough she went with her after one of her rare yearly visits. Their sibling relationship has gotten a bit better now as adults.

- There may or may not be a half-sibling or two out in the world on her mother's side that they simply do not know about?

~Getting into trouble~

- The most trouble Tamia gets into is when she fails to stop her little sister from getting into trouble. Since she's the older sister she's expected to be more responsible and set an example for Sarina.

- One such instance was when she was supposed to keep an eye on her while the two of them went to purchase some more exotic food from The Wide for the family to celebrate a special occasion around age 9 and Sarina age 7. While in the middle of her purchase, Sarina managed to sneakily getaway to explore on her own and was not found until MANY hours later when the Upper City curfew was about to start.

~Birthday~

- A typical birthday growing up was a very simple celebration with a small batch of their favorite cookies and not too expensive a gift to add to it. Tamia's favorite cookies were Apple Oatmeal Cookies with Cinnamon and for gift was mostly whatever book Gerald or his parents could find for a good price or just lying around abandoned.

~Games~

- The typical games that most kids tended to play in the neighborhood were hide-and-seek, stick fights, and whatever you could come up with using bean-bags that day.

~Learning something new~

- Tamia just like her Dad Gerald had a thirst for learning growing up as a child with a passion for reading books. Growing up she wanted to be a wizard and be able to use magic. Alas, no matter how much she read up on magic, tried to connect to the weave, and prayed to Mystra herself Tamia could never find the connection she oh so badly wanted. And yet despite that, she kept on trying to learn what she could.

- However little did she know that another god would take notice of her love and ambition to learn. That being The Lord of All Knowledge Oghma himself who would later in her teens send her signs to let her know that she is seen by him and encourage her to keep on learning with his support.

~Trauma~

- The closest thing to a trauma in her childhood was when she was 11 years old. She went climbing up to the roof of the old family house to reach the small bean-bag she tossed up there during a small competition she had with the neighboring kids in 'Who can toss the highest?' To which she won. As she got her bean-bag she lost her footing and went tumbling down, breaking her right arm, her left wrist and earning a concussion. It was also how she earned the scar on her forehead that she would later try to hide with her hair.

- After that incident, she started to fear heights but started to handle it better in her late teens. Until all that progress got tossed out the window at age 19. Literally!

Teenager

~First love~

- Her first love or more accurately crush occurred when she was 14 and it was with her friend Ranvia's cousin who'd temporarily moved in with the Bronzegrace family to learn their trade for 2-3 years. His name was Emdur and like Ranvia was a Shield Dwarf but unlike his cousin he had no interest in their craft.

- The crush lasted for about 3 weeks and ended while she was visiting her friend to ask if she was interested in hanging out. While conversing with Ranvia about possible activities Emdur decided to ask his cousin "Why you hanging out with a Stupid Orc all the time?" To which he then received a mighty punch to the face from his cousin.

- Any and all interest Tamia had for the guy was immediately snuffed out and took some of her self-confidence with it.

~Rebellion~

- Not much rebelling from Tamia growing up. The only time that she would count herself rebelling was when she let her Dad and Paternal Grandparents know that she refuses to take any form of responsibility for her little sister's behavior and antics. They received it loud and clear.

~Running away~

- Does wanting to run away from her sister count?

- Tamia was never really rebellious so the whole 'Running away from home' thing was never her cup of tea. Her family already had to live with an over-energetic, trouble-making, constantly looking for a fight sister, and Tamia simply did not wanna add to that.

~Reckless behavior~

- Growing up everyone in Baldur's Gate knew about Ramazith's Tower, its mysteriously dead owner, and the rumors about possible treasures he's collected hidden behind magical traps. And more importantly to Tamia, Knowledge.

- At the very end of her teens at age 19 which still technically counts as a teenager the talks about this new and young wizard had managed to claim said tower, Tamia who by then had already received Oghmas blessing quickly made her way to seek this wizard out to ask for his permission to create a catalog record of the mysterious content of Ramazith's Tower.

- It took her a little over a month of begging and pleading to finally convince him to accept her Oghma-blessed service much to her joy. Only for him to then send her into areas of the tower that were still trapped without telling her thinking she'd deal with it for him.

- After somehow managing to escape with either dumb luck or divine intervention through the still-active traps Tamia made her complaints known to this very reckless wizard whom she still knows nothing about. His response was to simply have her tossed out the nearest window faaar up in the tower with an air elemental. How fortunate that she's invested in purchasing a Ring of Feather Falling for her fear of heights.

- Lesson to learn from this? Don't trust random new wizards in town to then immediately ask to see their shiny magical collection.

~Peer pressure~

- Tamia's not really one to fall for peer pressure from other people with the exception of her own family to be a good older sister and keep her younger sister in line when they are not around to do so themselves due to work.

~Growing pains~

- Not really pain but there was plenty of growing in her early teens. Her paternal family was sure that she wasn't gonna grow to be as tall as her taller than your average Orc Mother Vel who was rocking 2.06m (6'9) due to her father's side having those strong Dwarven genes with Dad Gerald 1.52m (5').

- Well, they were all in for a surprise as she kept on getting taller and taller than her Dad.

~Taking responsibility~

- If it's something she has either done or said that caused any form of harm, then Tamia will take responsibility for it and admit to her fault.

- However, if it's related to her sister or the other party took offense for the most ridiculous of reasons and blames it on her, then you lose all her attention and get ignored.

Adulthood

~Leaving home~

- Not long after the 'Tower Incident' Tamia had a rather hard time looking at the very prominent tower looming over her every single day. So about a month after it happened, she made the decision to apply any form of work at the Font of Knowledge in Waterdeep. She would receive her confirmation after sending them many letters for almost 5 months. As soon as she received this news she packed up everything that she still owed after selling off the rest in order to afford the fee to join a ship heading to Waterdeep at the age of 20.

~Their “first time”~

- Not to long after moving to Waterdeep Tamia started to explore as many new restaurants, bakeries, and taverns. During one of her culinary explorations, she encountered a charming Earth Genasi Cleric of Chauntea who was a regular and took notice that she was a new face. The two got to know each other by random facts the two learned over there years and teaching the other even more random fact. After their 5th outing of food and knowledge sharing they paid for a shared room to get to know each other on a more intimate level.

~Serious relationships~

- Alabaster: The charming Earth Genasi was her first-ever relationship she had and one that she treasures to this day. During their 4 years, he taught her all he knew of nature while she taught him arcana. They had planned to get married and start a family the upcoming spring when sadly tragedy struck. While out to bless the crops for some farmers he unfortunately ran into a group of bandits who were not too happy with how light he traveled with little value and took his life out of frustration.

- After losing her fiance Tamia took her time to mourn by diving into her work more than ever. Didn't give dating another go until 3 years later but was not as lucky with those and they mostly left her feeling uncomfortable afterward to the point that she stopped dating altogether.

~Work~

- From the moment she started working at the Font of Knowledge in Waterdeep it's been her one form of workplace. Starting out as a simple novice to eventually earned her current and favorite position as a Record Keeper. For 9 years she worked there and was very much content with it.

~Aging~

- As a Half-Orc she should be aging faster than your average human, though it would appear that the Dwarven genes on her paternal side have managed to get a foot in when the more dominant Orc ones took over. So it would appear that she ages slightly slower than humans would and ages almost similar to a certain Tiefling who's about her own age. A fact that the two don't fully realize until her late 30's.

~Finding your place~

- Who knew that while out during one of her lunch breaks she'd get snatched up by a fly by Nautiloid and toss her life upside down. After the whole Neather Brain business is dealt with and Baldur's Gate is safe from the whole Absolute Cult stuff Tamia has to decide if she wishes to return to Waterdeep or stay in the city of her birth to help build it back up.

- But once Baldur's Gate is built back up, what then? Stay longer or Waterdeep? Feeling bold she wishes to take a rematch at Ramazith's Tower she decides to offer Rolan her years of experience in Record Keeping services and her help in finding each and every secret that the tower has to offer.

- A project that would take them years to fully complete in a safe and methodical manner but suits the two of them just fine. It's during this project Tamia finds herself feeling like she's found her place, where she truly belongs. Working alongside Rolan, making sure he's not burning himself out and taking care of himself with him doing the very same for her.

~Staring a family/found family~

- The weird ragtag of individuals that Tamia traveled with while tadpoled has become this big strange little family in which you are close to some more than others. Which also includes the Tieflings that they helped way back in the Grove. Tamia makes the effort to stay in contact with the majority of them all however with how easily absorbed she can get with her work and family could mean long periods of silence.

- While she and Rolan work on their shared project of unpacking the mysteries of the Tower and its content the two enter into a close relationship that ever so slowly develops into a romantic to eventually turn sexual. Neither knowing when the shift truly happened and yet it feels so natural for them.

- 4 years after the Netherbrain the two receive a much unexpected surprise in their lives in the form of a cryptic pregnancy. Tamia jokes how their son is such an extreme introvert that not even his own parents had any idea he even existed until he was forcefully evicted into the world. Though he may have been a surprise, Derrick Rolansson is very much loved and wanted.

- Another 4 years after they had Derrick the two married and lived a very comfortable but far from boring life in the tower when they learned that they were expecting a second child. However this time they learned about them much earlier, giving them time to digest this news and prepare. They welcomed their second son who they named Aiden Rolansson.

(Edit: Realized someone else already had used the name Nathaniel for their own Child OC of Rolan way before I did, so I'm changing the firstborn's name to Derrick instead.)

[quietlyblooms]

i’m finally free oh my gosh

[sellenite]

personal note: I’m so so so so so beyond excited for this fall semester to be over, I have been absolutely TRUDGING through it… all of my creative projects have taken a back-burner for my academic work, which is sad because I have so many ideas locked away in my brain. so thank you to all my followers and moots for sticking around despite my lack of writing posts :’) I promise I’ll have more fics posted in a few weeks when I don’t have as much work going on!