#and they try to live and navigate this new world

[leapyeap]

an austin butler/callum turner primer, maybe

hello comrades

the past few days i've really been itching for some new content (preferably of the two of them together but i unfortunately live in reality so separately will do) and i've decided to be the change i want to see in the world. so behold. a primer of sorts.

the sheer delight in each other! it gets to me! (kiss)

first things first, who are these guys?

austin butler

austin (born august 17, 1991) is a california girl through and through. he has an older sister named ashley butler and a bff named ashley tisdale (you're all familiar). he was discovered at 13 and immediately took acting SO seriously. i'm just going to link his esquire article here, because it's honestly required reading and they go over pm his entire life. from painfully shy home schooled baby austin to losing his mom at 23 to coughing up blood after filming for elvis wrapped. a quote:

When Butler wasn’t working on bringing Buck Cleven to life, he toiled away at finding Austin. “I was just trying to remember who I was,” he admits. On set, he had a dialect coach whose main job, he says, was to help him stop talking like Elvis. But the whole Masters experience feels like a blur to him now. “I hardly remember filming that,” he says. “Almost the full year that I was in London.”

FASCINATING. callum in the mud tbh. stop the primer, austin doesn't even remember that man.

and then there's this paragraph that just makes me laugh because honestly, what a little weirdo:

Austin Butler has a funny habit. Rather than fill a natural lull in a conversation, or the space between questions, with words, Butler fills them with—and I’m not kidding here—smiles. Eyes lock. Lips curl. It is impossible not to return the expression. But then you’re just two people, sitting in the back booth, smiling like idiots at each other.

smiling because he doesn't know how to answer a question! making it a whole performance! he is so deeply in his head all the time!!! i wanna crack him open like a walnut and study his brain!!! seriously, read the esquire article and then come back.

anyway, moving on.

callum turner

callum (born february 15, 1990) is a chelsea boy who was raised as an only child by a single mom on a council estate. he often talks about growing up right next door to some of the most expensive real estate in the world, and the huge wealth disparity between him and his classmates. his mom sounds like the coolest person in the world - she was a club promoter when callum was a kid and boy george coming over wasn't an uncommon occurrence. a quote:

Turner’s mother ran nights at London clubs including the Ministry of Sound, and fostered her son’s early interest in film (he cites Billy Elliot as a childhood favourite). She had wanted to be an actress, but hadn’t had the chance. He credits her with his performing gene, and his chutzpah. “She instilled this belief in me that if I wanted to do something, anything, I should go for it. Although she was also always saying, ‘Get a trade. Become a plumber.’ And I’m like, ‘No. I don’t want to be a plumber. I want to be a footballer.’ I didn’t want the safe option. It’s nice to take risks.”

spoiler alert: he didn't become a footballer, but he IS sad about that. i just love how he talks about his childhood and growing up:

‘Oh, I know them all,’ he says of his coterie of fabulous London acquaintances by birth. ‘The thing I always find interesting in my childhood was, yeah, I was growing up on an estate, single mum, working-class, but then I also had all these colourful characters around. It wasn’t about navigating two worlds,’ he says. ‘There were three, four, five more.’

and a last one about his childhood:

Turner was raised by his mother, a “brilliant woman” who worked as a nightclub promoter during the New Romantic movement in the Eighties. Her job meant an eclectic mix of characters from across the London club scene were constantly passing through Turner’s front door, with some even living with them when he was a child – “The father figures were a lot of different gay guys, basically.”

this is explained in detail in all the linked articles but he signed as a model at 17-18 and travelled the world a bit for burberry, comme des garçons, etc, having to lose like 6 inches off his waist bc the fashion industry is evil. if you ever wondered "damn, he looked so skinny in his modelling days", there's why. after that he worked at dover street market (a cool high fashion clothing store, i am told) for a couple years while trying to make it as an actor.

just including this because it makes me laugh tbh

in the independent article he also talks about being a big stoner and self medicating with weed for a good few years because he "was dealing with a depression or a frustration".

I was acting, doing films, and smoking weed every day. I never smoked on set but as soon as I got home, I was like a real addict. I definitely missed four years of my life.

including this because he seems like such a happy go lucky guy, but he's got his own demons. in a different interview he also talked about trying out therapy, and his mom retrained as a therapist as well. i'm a big fan of the turners.

anyway, that was too long, on to:

callum & austin

(so sorry to nate and anto for the crop)

in february 2021, austin was supposed to fly from australia (where he'd just wrapped on elvis after working on that for 3 years straight) but instead his body gave out and he was hospitalised and bedridden for a week. either during this period or after he flew to the uk and was doing his 10-day covid quarantine, callum sent him a first voice note, and austin replied in such an elvis voice that callum was like we're past that babe:

Butler and Turner exchanged voice notes after Elvis wrapped, just before they were set to start shooting Masters. [...] “It was like a voice note from Elvis, you know,” he says. “And I just sent him a message: ‘Elvis has left the building.’”

i'm sure he thought that was very funny. if i think about the voice note period too much my brain starts to conjure up too many scenarios so let's move on. to bootcamp!

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mr presley you're doing such a great job

they spend the next 10 months filming together. they bonded right away and seem to have spent quite a bit of time together:

The two bonded, spending downtime walking Turner’s dog, or grabbing a meal on a Sunday. “Austin and I have a very special relationship,” he says. “It’s deep, and it’s profound. I’ve made friends through the years that I love. And there are people that you work with, and have a great time with, but they don’t necessarily become your friend. You still love ’em. But Austin’s my friend.”

genuine friends!! and obviously these quotes are from the mota press tour in january 2024, more than 2 years after filming wrapped, so we can assume they've kept in touch, despite austin's phone allergy.

also at some point nearing the end of filming callum, austin, fionn o'shea and mustafa the poet went to see... something idk. this was posted october 2021, if someone wants to sleuth and tell me lol.

and this is where i introduce ruthie rogers. you may have heard austin and/or callum mention ruthie in interviews before when they talk about their weekly sunday roasts. maybe, like me, you assumed she was someone from the mota crew or a previous project that they'd befriended, but you'd be wrong, she is in fact the owner of the river café in london, which has a michelin star. lol. here's a quote from an interview with ruthie herself:

Rogers, whose Italian nonna-ness extends to her home, tells me how she hosted a group of actors that included Austin Butler and Carey Mulligan for supper for 39 consecutive Sundays following the loosening of lockdown rules. “Everyone was away from home and their families so they would come to me. They would help me cook and then we’d play cards. It became a sort of tradition.”

39 consecutive sundays! carey mulligan! okay! that's fine, i don't desperately need to know who else was there or anything

here's a podcast between austin and ruthie where she talks about the weekly dinners in her intro but sadly it doesn't come up during their conversation. it's a sweet listen though, they're clearly close and he calls her family.

and this is irrelevant to everything except it's so fucking endearing:

A WhatsApp message sent by the actor Callum Turner may have also landed on the industrious phone. “He sends me his Wordle score every day,” Rogers explains. “A sweet boy.”

a sweet boy! so true, ruthie

here they all are in september 2022, when ruthie hosted a party at the river café in honour of elvis being released. you've probably seen pictures of this event because austin basically unbuttoned his entire shirt and callum looked like the most supportive boyfriend.

like that's just a family portrait i'm sorry.

and speaking of supportive boyfriends, in december 2023 austin came out for a new york screening of boys in the boat too!

(austin are you okay) (is this the reason callum told austin to smile at the mota premiere)

alright so we've made it to january 2024, when mota comes out and the press tour starts. we immediately get hit with this gem:

Turns out the pair had hung out at Butler's pad and watched the Golden Globes one night earlier. Just the two of them. No glamorous girlfriends, no entourage befitting two major stars on the rise. "We were just going to go out and have dinner, and then we decided to do something relaxing at the house," Butler says. "So we ordered food, lit a fire and had a romantic little night in."

romantic little night in... probably the first time they had a night to themselves since filming ended... girl the possibilities

another quote because i can't handle how much callum turner loves austin butler:

"And we were just unbelievably kind to one another from minute one. I guess we just teased each other and looked after each other simultaneously. It was beautiful working with him. He’s such an incredible actor, and I learned so much from working with him, and as a man. Some days, I would go just to entertain Austin. If I didn’t make him laugh, I wasn’t doing my job. He was such a safe place, and I hope he feels the same with me, because we just loved each other."

"if i didn't make him laugh, i wasn't doing my job." 🫠 callum, say so much less. if you'd like to see them love on each other in video format, boy do i have the clip for you:

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K I T H.

if you wondered if callum knows he's being sappy, yes he does. he knows and he can't stop because he needs the world to know too, i guess!

i might as well stop here or i'll end up linking their entire press tour, but i just want to leave off by saying i think they're very neat, and i love that they're so different in some ways and so alike in others. the obvious extrovert vs introvert dynamic, where callum acts as a social buffer for austin, and makes him feel more at ease, but vice versa callum's also said that austin's presence on set made him comfortable taking big swings. it's about the give and take, the yin and yang!!

and they obviously share a huge love of movies and their craft, and they're competitive losers, they had to make their own way in the industry, they're beloved by all their castmates, etc etc.

in conclusion: they're in love. i hope you learned something and if not i hope you at least liked seeing it all compiled. thank you for coming to my ted talk, i love you like austin loves grabbing callum's shoulder

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hello beautiful person!!! I would love to find some great Eli is Stiles and Derek’s son fics!

thank you!!

AND

Anonymous asked:

Hope you’re holiday was relaxing and wonderful! I was hoping you could help me find Eli fics with Sterek. Either as a baby or them dealing with teenage stuff, anything fix it from the movie is good too! Thank you!

I will you bet you five bucks that the movie hadn't even finished before people were posting their Eli Stilinski-Hale fics. Fandom is on it.

Safe by Hedwig221b

(1/1 I 974 I Not Rated)

“Where is he?” Stiles rumbled, glancing at each member of the pack in front of him, before settling his incinerating gaze on one person he once considered a brother. “Tell me, Scott, where is my husband?”

Proud Parent of an Honour Brainworm– I Mean Student! by shallowseablue 

(2/2 I 4,267 I General)

Growing up, Stiles has always learned better, absorbed information faster, when he read it out loud. Elementary school book projects and high school study groups were kind of awkward, but as an adult? Man, he's living the dream—pacing around the apartment with a book in hand, reading whatever he wants, whenever he wants, wherever he wants. Derek sleeps like the dead, so it's not like the verbal diarrhoea and under-his-breath commentary is gonna way the man up.

Although, now that he and Derek have a kid, those 3 W's might get a little hard to navigate—but who knows? Maybe the brainworm is genetic.

Or, 5 times Stiles read to his son and 1 time Eli returned the favour.

5 times Derek almost called Stiles "Alpha" and the 1 time he did by lookingforatardis

(1/1 I 8,591 I Explicit)

Through all the noise in his mind, as completely wrong and impossible as it was, there was one thought on the tip of his tongue. Alpha.

How To Colossally Fuck Shit Up by Cashewchococake

(23/? I 40,239 I Explicit)

A story about Derek and Stiles building their family and trying to find their way to each other.

or

Stiles was looking at him expectedly.

Derek took a deep breath and prepared himself for the upcoming words. “But I wasn’t the only one he smelled like, Stiles.”

He looked pleadingly at Stiles, who'd gone deathly pale, and was now shaking his head.

“Stiles-, Eli is your son.” Derek forced out.

Stiles let out a small breathless sound of “Oh!”

He shot up from the couch and took his head between his hands, pulling his hair.

When that didn’t help to quiet the raging flood of questions in his head, he started pacing.

“What? -I mean…how? How is that even possible?"

"Why the hell would you keep that from me?” He was spluttering.

Stiles couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Why would Derek do that?

Survive With Dawn by WolfieRed23

(15/? I 43,197 I Teen)

It's during the night that the werewolf pack of Beacon Hills, the Hale Pack, thrives. But with the light of dawn comes new challenges and enemies, ones both known and unknown. Trying to manage all the new twists that come their way is becoming a talent for the pack, but survival is the one thing they're trying to do, at all costs.

We'll Take On The World by lookingforatardis

(1/1 I 20,600 I Mature)

Derek grew quiet, eyes searching Stiles’ face. “It’s called True Mates.” “Do you think we…” he started, but cut himself off. He wasn’t sure he wanted an answer. “Maybe,” Derek nodded anyway, eyes cast down. Their hands were intertwined on the bed where they sat, and Stiles traced Derek’s knuckles with his fingers. “How would we know?” Derek sighed and leaned over to rest his head against Stiles’ shoulder. “There’s always a sign."

Do you have a 100 words for me? ('Cause I have only three) by Winelady

(44/44 I 141,995 I Explicit)

“THAT IS MY CHILD.” Stiles roared to the receiver.

Stiles’ roar echoed in his own ears as he slammed his fist down on the desk, rattling everything on it. He immediately glanced at Eli, making sure the noise hadn’t disturbed him. The kid barely stirred, his small frame bundled up in blankets on the couch. Stiles took a deep breath, lowering his voice but not his intensity.

“You don’t get to decide that, Scott,” he hissed into the phone. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for my kid. That’s my job. And if you think for a second that leaving him out there to fend for himself was somehow a better option than calling me, you’re even more deluded than I thought.”

**** After Derek's death Eli struggles with his control over the wolf. Scott and Allison was too busy playing house to help him. So he makes a quick decision to find his other dad. He heard he was magic. Maybe he could help him. Maybe he could bring his dad back.

you and i remain the same by EvanesDust, Winchesterek

(18/18 I 109,786 I Explicit)

Stiles rolled over onto his side and reached out to turn off the lamp on his nightstand, leaving the room in darkness as he settled back in bed. “Promise me I won’t see you in two days…”

Derek didn’t answer for a while, and when he did, he spoke quietly—almost a whisper. “I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that.”

Stiles took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wiping at his face and closing his eyes. “I’ll see you in two days then, Derek.”

If Derek was going to get himself killed, Stiles promised himself he’d be there to try and stop it. Whatever it took. “Be ready.”

“Stiles…” The way Derek said his name was almost pained. “Please be careful. I— Just be careful, okay?”

***

aka what really happened after the raid and how they lived happily ever after.

[writer-haley-e]

I haven’t talked much about it on here, but I was participating in NaNoWriMo this month! I was expecting to not complete it, because I’ve heard of so many people not able to in their first year, but I realized I can actually write pretty fast if I try to, and I finished!

My current word count is 50,537!!

I haven’t written this much for any one story before, so I’m so proud of myself for getting this much done in such a short time, and I’m hoping to finish the rest of the first draft by the end of January at the very latest.

Also I’ve been keeping track of how much time I’ve spent just writing this month, and it’s added up to 32 hours and 36 minutes, which seems fast to me at least, idk how fast other people did it.

Anyways, my first year trying nanowrimo and I did it! Yay!

[july-19th-club]

the thing about mel is that. like. at 1pm when she gets the autistic patient and mentions her sister being on the spectrum. i wonder how many viewers have already gathered that mel is also ALSO on it. like mel is not just an ordinary anxious woman, she's an autistic woman attempting to hold down one of the most physically and emotionally demanding jobs out there. and doing all of it without admitting to the fact that she's autistic, maybe because she fears it will alter people's opinions of her competency. her sister's in assisted living, and she knows firsthand how people's perspective on you changes. hell, imagine the guilt she has just because of the way she and her sisters' lives differ. here she is struggling through a residency with very little support and there her sister is with very little autonomy compared to other adults her age. and how as a caretaker that gives you guilt anyway, but as a caretaker with the exact same condition as the person you're caring for, just to a different degree that makes it possible for you to fake normalcy at your own detriment but because it's the only option? or maybe mel doesn't know. maybe mel's never been officially diagnosed. maybe she has her suspicions based on the everything about her but doesn't want to get official word, because it would change everything. every day she lives in the horrible midgard between what you know and what everybody else thinks they know about this type of brain you're so intimately familiar with inside out and talking about it in any but the most oblique ways would in some way permanently change your life

[gutsfics]

i love you Characters With Strange Relationships To Their Parents

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink

It’s too soon. 

The weight of this certainty is nearly too heavy to carry, his footsteps echoing with dread. 

You’re not ready. 

He’s not ready. 

It’s his fault. Selfishly, he’s encouraged your co-dependence, pulled you closer and closer into deeper water where he knew you’d have trouble swimming without him. He thought he’d have more time to help you develop coping strategies, to get you settled, moved out of your apartment and into his house. Now, he’s leaving you alone as you try to navigate an entirely different life while straddling two living situations, without him at your side.  

You’re at his house tonight. It’s becoming more common, three nights turning to four, then five and sometimes even six, letting yourself in before when he gets caught up on base. His brave fawn on stronger legs, taking self assured steps, and following his lead, his guidance. Your comfort in his home, this world he’s created for you, feeds the beast inside his chest, the dark one, the monster curled around your body in the night, possessive and obsessed. It’s a perfectly balanced scale, never tipping too far in one direction, all his parts and pieces perfectly arranged for you, expertly developed so he can love you in every way you need. 

He’s pleased you’re home and already in bed an hour before you’re supposed to be, curled in the middle with your kindle, your blankets and pillows arranged in the usual bird’s nest, lips parted, glasses halfway down the bridge of your nose. 

They became a new rule after he realized you were getting headaches from not using them. 

“What do you think is appropriate?” 

“For my recipe cards?” 

“For screens and your recipe cards, precious girl. Squinting and strainin’ your eyes is what’s causing these headaches.” 

“Oh right.” You nodded, and then lifted your chin. When you have rules, boundaries, you have security, confidence, support. You don’t have to think, agonize, try to step into a skin that doesn’t fit. All the things that worry you, frighten you, overwhelm you, they now belong to him, they’re his to deal with. You just have to focus on the rules. “Wear my glasses when I’m looking at screens or my recipe cards. Got it.” 

“Good girl.” 

He pauses in the doorway. 

You’re kneading. 

It started a week ago in your sleep. You’d find your way to his chest, rocking and rolling overtop his heart, working a rhythm into to his sternum as you slept, a physical manifestation of your peace, your trust, a subconscious recognition of feeling safe, and cared for, and loved. It’s become present in the quiet of the morning or an evening lull too, when you’re relaxed and content, kneading away on a pillow or his thigh. Such a simple, silent thing that says so much.

Knuckles thunk on wood, and you kick beneath the blankets, kindle falling into the pillows, your startle turning to surprise, and then the sweet spread of happiness colors your face. His drug. The way you beam and light up when you see him is the same way you bloom when you’re baking, or talking about baking, or feeding someone. Your bliss gets him high. A gift he could never repay, and something he’ll never give up. You’ve been able to venture outside of your comfort zone more and into his hold, no longer hiding yourself within his walls, cautious steps becoming more self assured. He knows you’ll always struggle, but he’ll always be here, ready to catch you when you fall. 

“Hi daddy.” 

“Hi sweet girl.” He leans over the edge of the bed to brush a kiss across your lips, little whimper falling into his mouth as he takes it farther, tastes you, nips you. You give him more and more, truly limitless in his arms, your home, exploring and testing, discovering both him and yourself. This willingness, this trust, is a precious thing like your heart. And it all belongs to him.

Your throat bobs when he pulls back and tugs his shirt over his head, sneaking a sly glance as he tugs his pants down next. “I need t’get in the shower. Stay put, keep reading your book, I’ll be a few minutes.” 

“Okay.” He’d have you get in with him, but you look so happy, so cozy, fuzzy socks on your feet, cuddled up in a sweatshirt, and he wants to leave you to your peace. 

Since he’s about to ruin it. 

Your hand is small in his, and too cold. The ice he finds there matches your frozen posture, your nervous expression buried beneath snow as you try to put on a brave face. His precious girl. 

“I don’t understand… I’m- a-are you…” you lose your words, hitch of panic in your breath as you scramble to find what’s needed, something, anything to convey the influx of emotions, the quick build of questions, and he squeezes reassuringly. 

“Take your time.” Normally, he’d just stay silent, give you the space and time, but right now, he knows you need more, recognizing the way you’re tearing yourself apart inside your head. You blow out a shaky breath. 

“How long… how long will you be gone?” 

“It’s hard to say, but I think it’ll only be a few weeks.” The flash of fear strikes through your irises like lightning.

“Okay.” You nod, but it doesn’t stop. You just keep nodding, trying to steady yourself, and he doesn’t think you know you’re trembling a bit, lower lip start to peel away.  “What if something bad happens?” It’s a question for the ages, one he’s wagered his entire existence. A longstanding bet with the reaper, one he never made a fuss about.

Now, he’d barter his soul for one more moment.

“Nothing bad is gonna happen, I’m very good at my job.” He tries to soothe you, but you’re already lost, tangled up in a web, one he should have cleaned up before.

“B-but you can’t promise that, right? I mean, you can’t be sure. Right?” 

“I’m going to be just fine, baby. I want you to focus on yourself instead of worrying about me, alright? You’ll follow all your rules and take care of yourself. Do you understand?” You have a faraway look in your eye, responding like he didn’t speak. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not handling this… I feel… I’m overwhelmed, I don’t…” He pulls you close, and you don’t waste a second, placing your cheek to his chest, ear just over his heart. 

“My good girl, following her rules,” you look up at him, so tortured, conflicted and scared, and his heart aches. “There’s no reason to be sorry. I should have prepared you for this, and I didn’t. That’s daddy’s fault, not yours.” You’re drowning. You’re too far underwater, trying to reconcile what you know with what you fear, kicking and swimming against a current that keeps sweeping you out to sea, desperately clinging to him, searching for your lighthouse in the storm. It’s too much, he knew it would be, and if he could put it off he would, but this is one mission he can’t delay. It’s a rescue, in the bloody jungle, one squad already failing to reach the other. He has no choice.

He curves around you, pulls you down into the blankets and pillows, kissing your salt soaked cheeks. “I know you’re scared baby, I know. I’m sorry.” The guilt stings and bites, a serrated blade between his ribs. He did this, it’s the consequences of his failure that you’re facing now, your uncertainty and fear all created by him. 

Your face presses into his neck as he applies pressure to your nape, murmuring against the shell of your ear, surrounding you with himself, blocking out the rest of the world. 

That’s where the two of you stay, long past the conversation, your tears turning to quiet whimpers before you fall asleep, snuffling against his skin, still holding him tight. 

“I’ll be good daddy, I promise.” He’s got a duffel slung over his shoulder and a backpack at his feet, truck running in the driveway, waiting. He should have left ten minutes ago. Fifteen even, but he can’t let go, still standing in the foyer cupping your face, memorizing every detail. There’s not much he can do now to fix his mistake. It will have to wait until he comes back, a razed city left waiting to be rebuilt.

“I know you will sweetheart,” he brushes his knuckles over the apple of your cheek, “everything is going to be fine.”

“And you’ll call when you can?” He kisses your forehead. 

“I’ll call when I can.” He’ll need to release all of this before he steps on the plane, but for now he allows himself to feel it, ruminate and own it. He’s worried. This is his fault, he’s pulled the rug out from beneath you without any semblance of a warning, he’s changing your routine, your life, again, uprooting you just when you’ve started to feel comfortable. You’re vulnerable, and he’s abandoning you. Ripping a freshly healed wound wide and pouring salt in it.

You lean in, turning your cheek to press your ear over his heart. “I’m going to miss you.” 

“I’m going to miss you too sweet girl, so much. But I’ll be home soon, I promise.” His younger self would scoff at him, chastise him for making such a promise, but it’s different now. 

He’d dig himself out of grave all over again just to crawl home to you. 

[midniqhtt]

james buchanan ‘bucky’ barnes

masterlist • marvel • 05/13/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs five

one two three four

𑣲 how to impress a 21st century girl I @brunchable

Sam had forced Bucky to use Tinder to solve his abysmal love life. Bucky tells himself that if third time isn't a charm, he will officially give up trying to find a partner.

𑣲 i don’t want you like a best friend pt2 I @/brunchable

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

𑣲 the best worst day ever I @jobean12-blog

You're having a shit day but then you see a dog and things start looking up...

𑣲 game night I @mugglebornmarvelite

Steve’s mandatory game night takes a turn when you and Bucky are paired up.

𑣲 bleeding heart I @mournthebird

You're his assigned nurse.

𑣲 domestic ws / soldat hcs I @/mournthebird

𑣲 cold metal I @/mournthebird

Soldat's arm gets cold. You are the solution.

𑣲 shower suds I @/mournthebird

You give Soldat his first bath out of captivity.

𑣲 silver and garnet I @/mournthebird

Soldat hurts himself a lot.

𑣲 condition I @/mournthebird

Soldat refuses to sit down, you notice he's in pain.

𑣲 gentle hand I @/mournthebird

Soldat has a panic attack.

𑣲 stained I @/mournthebird

Soldat continues to have nightmares.

𑣲 apricot toast I @/mournthebird

Soldat doesn't understand care can be without price.

𑣲 knots I @/mournthebird

You help the soldier with some self care.

𑣲 honey girl I @violentdelightsandviolentends

The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

𑣲 bucky can’t stand you I @buckyalpine

𑣲 mob!bucky I @/buckyalpine

𑣲 easy I @jaggedamethyst

life with bucky is amazing…but it’s easy to feel like you’re not enough when your relationship is a secret.

𑣲 sugar and skin pt2 pt3 pt4 I @tteotlma

Bucky’s never been sure if normalcy is something he’s cut out for. But when he meets you—a baker with a pretty smile—he starts to think maybe he could try.

𑣲 toy soldier pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 I @vunblr

She had been the tool Hydra used to keep him operational; he, the weapon manipulated by their tendrils to execute their ambitions. Years after breaking free, fate Sam Wilson brings them together once more. Now, they must navigate the challenges of forging a connection beyond the twisted dynamic that once bound them in the past.

𑣲 to mend a soldier I @/vunblr

Pressed by a worried Sam, Bucky reluctantly agrees to try an alternative -and, if you ask him, weird- therapy program: rent-a-mom. What starts as an obligation soon turns into something far more meaningful than he ever expected.

𑣲 what if…? I @/vunblr

Bucky navigates his insecurities and guilt from his past as he grows closer to his new neighbor, a nurse.

𑣲 roots and branches pt2 pt3 pt4 I @/vunblr

Bucky has built a quiet life in the woods, content to keep the world at arm's length. But when a new neighbor moves to town, her presence ignites emotions he’s hesitant to face.

𑣲 foundations pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 I @/vunblr

Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

𑣲 plump and ripe I @/vunblr

On a routine visit to the fruit shop, Bucky ends up with more than his usual goodies.

𑣲 built to last I @/vunblr

Bucky took up carpentry to keep himself busy, but didn't expect a hardware clerk to make him want more.

𑣲 touched starved I @mrsbuckybarnes1917

You accidentally walk in on Bucky touching himself when he thinks he is alone. Turns out he is thinking about you.

𑣲 a quiet escape I @thebarneschronicles

During a holiday stay at Clint Barton’s home, you’ve been desperately trying to steal a moment alone with Bucky—your super-soldier boyfriend—but the Avengers are constantly interrupting. Between Clint’s kids, Steve’s “bromantic” grocery runs, and Nat pulling Bucky into sparring sessions, it feels like you’re constantly fighting for his attention. Frustration finally boils over when you confront Bucky about your lack of privacy, only to discover he’s just as eager for some alone time as you are - and willing to do anything to get it.

𑣲 deny me I @drewbarymore

In which you feel like Bucky’s ashamed of you.

𑣲 dreamscape I @wkemeup

When Bucky falls under the spell of a Djinn, the line between fantasy and reality blurs. In order to survive, he must fight his way back to the real world - even if it costs him everything he's ever wanted.

𑣲 someone’s calling my name (and it sounds like you) I @mellowsaturns

after a mission gone wrong, bucky finds himself on the brink of unconsciousness and then you show up which causes him to reveal his true feelings

𑣲 mine I @cherrypickertheory

A new recruit joins the team, and gets a little too close to you for Bucky’s liking.

𑣲 dial tone I @atlaese

𑣲 lessons in lovemaking pt2 pt3 pt4 I @artficlly

You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pants—leaving you both stunned.

𑣲 bitter I @/artficlly

Bucky doesn't do relationships, but maybe you'll be the one to change him

𑣲 his girls I @/artficlly

alpine barely tolerates anyone but bucky, so when she curls up in your lap without a second thought, the team is left reeling—especially when it leads to the not-so-subtle revelation that you and bucky have been sneaking around for months.

𑣲 loverboy I @thevillainswhore

Bucky, a lovesick, pining super soldier, vows to keep his feelings for you a secret — no matter how obvious his crush may seem. Those plans are ruined between a meddling Sam, an embarrassing fall, and a visit to the medbay with you.

𑣲 revenge sweeter than honey I @/thevillainswhore

When Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious?

𑣲 do i even have a chance? I @noceurous

you’ve found him and he was sure he didn’t have a chance

𑣲 b.b. boy I @bucky-bucket-barnes

Bucky and you have been friends ever since he arrived that rainy at the Compound. Silently pining, you’d hope he would pick on the numerous hints you dropped. It’s not until a small miscommunication happens that he confronts his feelings for you.

𑣲 hooked on you I @elysium-library

𑣲 which avenger are you destined to date I @marvelettesassemblenow

When Natasha found out about the Quiz which showed which Avenger you should date, the Avengers decided they all should take the test and go on these dates.

𑣲 your touch I @/marvelettesassemblenow

Bucky hadn’t been long at the compound when he noticed that others sought you out to calm down. So slowly he started too and had to figure out his feelings for you

𑣲 the catalyst I @aquaticmercy

In this universe, you and Bucky are happy. In other universes, it might not be that simple.

𑣲 jackass I @/aquaticmercy

Everyone is horrified that Bucky is flirting with a married woman, but then they realise there's a reason why. 

𑣲 have we met before? I @/aquaticmercy

America Chavez says that you and Bucky are together in every universe. 

𑣲 laryngitis I @skaye44

You're super talkative and your fellow agents tease you, but you don't care. You always chat up the quiet hunky super soldier who always manages to spend some time around you. One day when you can't talk due to an illness, Bucky gets concerned and seeks you out to make sure you're ok. He ends up talking to you for once.

𑣲 arm pat I @/skaye44

You go on a date with Bucky and hit it off, or so you think, but it ends weirdly. Nat steps in and gets other agents involved to send you flowers and gifts to get Bucky's attention and make him jealous for screwing up.

𑣲 stuck in the middle I @helaintoloki

you come home from work to find the last person on earth you want to see cooking dinner in your kitchen

𑣲 somethin’ stupid I @/helaintoloki

a drunken confession spoils a perfectly good evening

𑣲 everybody loves somebody I @/helaintoloki

Thrown into a blind date against his will, Bucky does his best to prepare in the days leading up to Saturday night, a feat that proves to be much more difficult than expected thanks to his neighbor across the hall.

𑣲 back to you I @/helaintoloki

Yelena’s interest in y/n forces Bucky to confront his feelings for her as the Thunderbolts take refuge in her home

𑣲 a favor I @/helaintoloki

you pretend to be Bucky’s girlfriend in order to help his campaign despite your very real feelings for him

𑣲 misunderstanding I @/helaintoloki

you accept Bucky’s invitation to attend Tony’s charity gala as his date, but your night quickly turns sour when you find out about his bet with Natasha

𑣲 40s!bucky I @/helaintoloki

after accidentally sending yourself back in time, you run into a younger version of the man you loathe only to find yourself questioning your feelings for him

𑣲 it’s been calling me I @godmadeaterribleerror

You've had these… dreams. Strange, realistic, detailed dreams of the same man, almost your whole life. But they're just dreams. You've been so sure, for so long, that they're just dreams. So sure, until you're not.

𑣲 the time thor third wheeled I @mercurial-chuckles

𑣲 option two I @nev3rfound

after nightmares continue to haunt his nights, bucky knows there’s one person left who could potentially provide some form of comfort, but is she still willing to see him after all this time?

𑣲 shut up I @fandoms-writings

𑣲 his only contact I @cjsinkythoughts

𑣲 the soldier and his mission I @magical-reid

When a trigger sends Bucky back into the grip of the Winter Soldier, he shadows you with an unyielding protectiveness that leaves the team on edge, though he doesn't harm anyone. After days of tension and careful steps, Bucky finally breaks through the icy barrier, returning to himself in a quiet, tender moment, finding solace in your presence.

𑣲 from one perfect moment pt2 I @yikesdrama

bucky’s birthday is coming up soon and you just want to do something special for him, maybe even take a time travelling trip to see his maa….

𑣲 the third wheel I @writing-for-marvel

When Bucky finally asks you out on a date, the last thing you expect is for his high school crush Connie to also have been invited.

𑣲 in too deep I @marvelstoriesepic

After Bucky calls, and you come running, you end up locked in his bathroom, trying to get rid of the evidence that something hasn’t gone well this time.

𑣲 drabble I @eufezco

𑣲 drabble I @bcksbarnes

𑣲 echos I @brokenbarnes

Bucky's worst nightmare comes true. You come back to him after taking a turn in Hydra's electric chair.

[777bae]

FALLING INTO PLACE LUKE HUGHES

Summary :: You’ve always been best friends with Jack, but it’s his quieter, more patient brother Luke who’s been there all along. As you grow older, the bond between you and Luke transforms into something deeper, forcing you to finally see him in a new light.

Warnings :: reader is blind to love, small age gap (reader is the same age as Jack), unrequited love (+ a small amount of heartbreak), angst with eventual fluff, childhood friends(ish) to lovers, kissing, mini arguments, brief description of minor injuries, pining

Word count :: 22.3k

The Hughes family had always been a part of your life.

From the moment you were born, they were there—just next door, just across the lawn, just within reach. Your parents had moved into the neighborhood the same year you and Jack were born, and from the time you were old enough to crawl, your lives had been tangled together like the overgrown vines on the fences separating your yards.

There was never a time when Jack Hughes wasn’t in your world. He was there for every scraped knee, every birthday candle, every summer afternoon spent chasing fireflies. The moment you took your first wobbly steps, Jack had been beside you, already running, already pulling you along with that infectious, boundless energy of his. He wasn’t just your neighbor; he was your person.

It was inevitable, really. Your parents had been close from the start, the kind of friendship that formed effortlessly when two young families found themselves living side by side, both navigating sleepless nights with newborns. Your mothers had bonded over shared exhaustion—late-night feedings, first words, first steps—and before long, you and Jack had become an extension of that bond.

He was the first friend you ever made. And for the longest time, he was the only one that mattered.

Your days had a rhythm, an unspoken routine that started long before either of you were old enough to understand what routine even meant.

Every morning—without fail—there was a knock on your bedroom window. Not a polite tap, not a soft greeting, but a loud, impatient thud thud thud that had your parents groaning in the next room, already knowing exactly who it was.

“Jack, sweetheart, use the front door like a normal person,” your mother had called out once, exasperated.

“But it’s faster this way!” Jack had shot back, as if that explained everything.

And so, every morning, you would shuffle to the window, still half-asleep, and push it open. Jack’s face—grinning, eager, already bursting with energy—would be waiting for you.

“Come on,” he’d say, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “We’re racing bikes today.” Or “Quinn says we can use his hockey net!” Or “Mom made waffles. You have to come over.”

It didn’t matter what the plan was. You always went. Because Jack always made everything sound like the most exciting thing in the world.

Some mornings, he barely gave you time to get dressed before dragging you outside. There were days when you stumbled out of your house still in your pajamas, only half-awake, your hair a tangled mess, while Jack was already running down the driveway, laughing over his shoulder, challenging you to catch up.

Other days, he climbed right into your room through the window, ignoring every possible protest, flopping onto your bed as if it was his own, acting like there was nothing unusual about breaking into his best friend’s house before 8 AM.

“Jack, you can’t just—”

“Hurry up, Y/N!” he’d groan dramatically, burying his face in your pillow. “We’re wasting daylight!”

You had long since stopped trying to argue with him.

The Hughes’ house wasn’t just Jack’s home—it was yours, too. It had been for as long as you could remember.

You knew that house like the back of your hand. You knew exactly which steps on the staircase creaked the loudest—the third from the bottom and the second from the top—making it impossible to sneak around undetected. You knew where Ellen kept the extra blankets in the hall closet, the ones you always pulled out when you inevitably fell asleep on their couch after a long day of playing outside. You knew that Jim liked his coffee strong and black, and that Jack—despite his endless energy—could never function properly before noon without something sweet to eat.

Their fridge might as well have been yours. You never thought twice about opening it and grabbing a snack, just as Jack never hesitated to raid your pantry for whatever chips or cookies your mom had bought that week. If the Hughes were ordering pizza, there was always an unspoken assumption that you were staying for dinner.

There were no formalities in their home. No knocking on doors, no need for permission. You walked in and out as freely as if it was your own house.

Ellen treated you like one of her own, scolding you and Jack equally when you got into trouble (which was often). Quinn, the responsible older brother, always made sure you were safe, always keeping an eye on you when Jack got too carried away. And Luke… well, Luke had always been there, too.

The Hughes house was warmth and laughter, noise and chaos. It was yelling over video games in the basement, the sound of skates scraping against the driveway, the echo of Jack’s voice calling your name as he ran up to your door, never bothering to knock before barging in.

It was home.

You fit there. As if you had always belonged.

But Jack wasn’t the only Hughes brother in your life.

From the very beginning, Quinn had taken on the role of your unofficial older brother.

He was only a few years older than you and Jack, but at that age, those few years felt like a lifetime. He was bigger, stronger, wiser, as you and Jack had once believed. In a world where Jack was all reckless enthusiasm and boundless energy, Quinn was the counterbalance—the quiet, steady presence who made sure neither of you got into too much trouble.

It wasn’t that Quinn didn’t join in on the chaos—he did, when it suited him—but he was always the one who knew better. The one who thought things through. And, more often than not, the one who had to clean up whatever mess you and Jack inevitably got yourselves into.

If Jack came up with a stupid idea, it was Quinn who sighed, crossed his arms, and shook his head.

“You’re going to break something.”

“No, we’re not!” Jack would insist, already halfway through convincing you to do whatever dangerous, poorly thought-out scheme he had concocted that day.

Quinn would roll his eyes, mumbling something about how he was too young to be dealing with this, but he never truly left you to your own devices. Because when—not if, but when—Jack’s plan went sideways, Quinn was always the one to step in and make sure neither of you got too hurt.

When you were five, Jack decided he was going to make you a hockey player.

It was a rainy afternoon, and the three of you were stuck inside, boredom settling in like an itch that neither you nor Jack could stand for long. You had spent the last hour sitting in the Hughes’ living room, fidgeting, when Jack suddenly bolted upright, eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Let’s play mini sticks!” he had declared, already sprinting toward the basement.

You had barely even known what mini sticks were at the time, but you followed anyway, because that was just how things worked—Jack decided something, and you went along with it.

The moment you got downstairs, Jack shoved a tiny plastic stick into your hands and pointed at the net they had set up against the far wall.

“Okay, you have to score on me,” he said, crouching down in front of the goal, holding a goalie stick that was nearly as big as he was.

You looked down at the mini stick, then back at Jack.

“How?”

Jack groaned dramatically, as if your question physically pained him.

“Just hit the ball into the net! It’s not that hard!”

But it was hard. You didn’t know how to hold the stick properly, didn’t know how to control the ball, and every time you tried to take a shot, it rolled harmlessly to Jack’s feet.

Jack, to his credit, lasted all of three minutes before he got frustrated.

“No, no, no!” he huffed, marching over to you. “You’re doing it all wrong!”

“Well, I don’t know how to do it right!” you shot back, annoyed.

Jack groaned again, clearly ready to give up, but before he could, another voice chimed in.

“Here—like this.”

You looked up to see Quinn kneeling beside you, his own mini stick in hand. Unlike Jack, he was patient. He adjusted your grip, gently moving your hands into the right position. He showed you how to angle your stick, how to follow through on a shot.

“It’s all about control,” he explained, demonstrating with an easy flick of his wrist. The ball soared cleanly into the top corner of the net.

Your eyes widened. That was how you were supposed to do it?

“Try again,” Quinn encouraged, nudging the ball toward you.

You did. And this time, the shot actually had some power behind it. Not much—but enough.

Quinn smiled.

Jack groaned.

“Okay, fine, she’s kinda good,” Jack admitted.

But even after that, whenever you struggled with something—hockey or otherwise—it was always Quinn you turned to. Because where Jack would get frustrated and impatient, Quinn would always take the time to help.

Jack’s impulsive nature meant that you got into a lot of trouble growing up.

One summer, when you were seven, Jack had come up with what he insisted was a foolproof plan—jumping off the swing at its highest point to see who could land the farthest.

“It’s so easy,” Jack had said, already climbing onto the seat. “You just have to time it right.”

You had been hesitant.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, obviously.”

Quinn, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, had sighed heavily.

“You’re going to break your arm, idiot.”

Jack ignored him.

And, predictably, about five seconds later, Jack launched himself off the swing, flailed wildly in the air, and landed in an ungraceful heap on the grass.

To his credit, he hadn’t broken his arm. But he had managed to knock the wind out of himself so badly that he lay there gasping like a fish while Quinn stood over him, unimpressed.

“I told you,” Quinn muttered, before turning to you. “Do not listen to him.”

You listened. Mostly.

But there were still plenty of times when Jack managed to drag you into his ridiculous plans. And, inevitably, there were times when you got hurt.

There had been one particular summer afternoon when Jack had dared you to race him down the street on your bikes.

“I bet I can beat you by so much,” he had taunted, grinning as he climbed onto his bike.

“You wish,” you had shot back, determined to win.

The race had started off fine—pedaling furiously, wind rushing past your face, Jack laughing beside you—but then you hit a pothole.

The bike jolted violently. You lost control.

And the next thing you knew, you were flying over the handlebars.

Pain exploded across your knees and palms as you skidded across the pavement, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs.

Jack had screeched to a stop, his face a mask of horror.

“Oh my God. Oh my God—are you okay?!”

Your knees were scraped raw, blood trickling down your shins, and your palms stung so badly you thought they might be on fire. You wanted to be tough, wanted to brush it off, but your throat was tight, and tears were already pricking at your eyes.

And then, before you even had time to process what had happened, Quinn was there.

“Jesus, you guys,” he muttered, crouching beside you.

You sniffled, still trying to hold back tears, but Quinn didn’t make a big deal about it. He just scooped you up into his arms, lifting you effortlessly, and started walking you home.

“You’re okay,” he said, voice calm and steady. “We’ll get you cleaned up.”

Jack trailed behind, looking guilty as hell.

“I—I didn’t think she’d actually fall,” he mumbled.

Quinn shot him a look.

“Of course she fell, Jack. You two don’t think before you do anything.”

Jack had no argument for that.

But even as Quinn sighed, even as he grumbled about “having to babysit two disasters,” you knew he cared.

Because Quinn never let anything happen to you.

And he never would.

Then there was Luke.

Luke had been there from the almost start, having arrived two years late to the world you and Jack had already built together.

It wasn’t that he was unwelcome—not at all. But in the early years, he had been younger—just enough behind you and Jack that the gap felt significant. When you were five, he was three. When you and Jack were racing bikes down the street, Luke was still on training wheels. When you were climbing trees and dangling from the highest branches, Luke was stuck at the bottom, his small hands barely able to reach the first grip.

And no matter how much he wanted to be included, the truth was, there were just some things he was too little for.

Where Jack dragged you into every wild idea that popped into his head, Luke was the one who stood on the sidelines, watching. His wide, eager eyes followed your every move, his tiny fists clenched with determination, his whole body buzzing with the desperate hope that this time—this time—you and Jack might let him in.

“Can I play?” he would ask, gripping his little hockey stick so tightly his knuckles turned white, his gaze flicking between you and Jack.

Jack, more often than not, would groan. “Luke, you’re too little.”

And because Jack was your best friend—the leader of every game, the one who decided what was and wasn’t fun—you had gone along with it.

“Maybe next time, Lukey,” you had said, ruffling his hair before turning to chase after Jack, never noticing the way Luke’s shoulders slumped as he watched you run away.

Luke always wanted to be part of your world.

But back then, you had only seen him as Jack’s little brother.

That didn’t stop Luke from following you both everywhere.

If you and Jack were playing knee hockey in the basement, Luke was there, sitting on the sidelines, cross-legged on the carpet, watching intently. If Jack scored, Luke cheered. If you fell, Luke was the one scrambling up to check if you were okay before Jack even noticed.

If you and Jack were racing across the backyard, Luke was trailing behind, his little legs working furiously to keep up, his breath coming in short, determined puffs.

“Wait for me!”

“Luke, hurry up!” Jack would yell, already halfway across the lawn.

And Luke would hurry. He always hurried, always pushed himself to the limit just to try and close the distance, just to prove that he could keep up with you and Jack.

But more often than not, by the time he caught up, the game had already changed. Jack had already moved on to something bigger, something better.

And Luke—still catching his breath, still trying to process the game that had just ended—would be left standing there, watching as you and Jack disappeared into the next adventure without him.

But Luke never left.

Even when he wasn’t included, even when Jack brushed him off or you followed Jack’s lead without a second thought, Luke stayed.

Because if he couldn’t play, then he would watch.

And when Jack inevitably got bored and abandoned a game to chase after something else—when his attention flitted from knee hockey to soccer to wrestling to something entirely new—Luke was the one who stayed behind.

If Jack left the net in the basement empty, Luke picked up a stick and asked you to shoot on him instead.

If Jack abandoned a game of tag to go inside for a snack, Luke asked you to keep playing.

He never demanded your attention the way Jack did. Never insisted that you pick him first, never threw tantrums when he was left out.

He just waited.

Waited for the moments Jack wasn’t around.

Waited for the moments you finally turned to him.

And you? You never really thought much of it.

Not then.

To you, Luke was just there.

Just part of the background of your life—always orbiting close by, always tagging along if it meant he could be newr you.

It was the summer you were seven, a time when everything still felt simple and innocent. The world was filled with endless possibilities, and your days were spent on adventures with your best friend, Jack. You both had a rhythm—an unspoken understanding that no matter what, you would always be together, running, playing, dreaming. The world had no limits when Jack was by your side. And that evening, in particular, was no different. Or so you thought.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the park, the colors in the sky blending into soft hues of orange and pink. The kind of evening that made everything look surreal, like the entire world was pausing to admire the beauty of the moment. You and Jack were sitting on your usual bench—the wooden one that creaked under the weight of years of memories, positioned perfectly to overlook the expansive field that stretched out before you. The warm summer breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, and the sweet scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the distant hum of crickets chirping in the cooling air.

Jack was sitting beside you, legs dangling off the edge of the bench, his sneakers brushing against the ground as he swung his feet back and forth. He was talking, as he always did, hands gesturing wildly as he described yet another hockey game he’d watched on TV with his dad or something that had happened on the ice at practice. His voice was animated, full of the kind of energy that made it impossible not to pay attention. His dark brown eyes were wide with enthusiasm as he recounted the details—who scored the most goals, what move one of the players had pulled off, how he couldn’t wait to try it himself in his next game. It wasn’t surprising to you; hockey was everything to Jack. He lived and breathed it, and you could tell by the way he spoke, by the way his hands moved in the air to illustrate what he was saying, that this game, this sport, was a piece of his very identity.

You smiled at him, your head tilted back against the cool wood of the bench as you half-listened, half-watched the way his face lit up. Jack had always been a little bit wild in his energy. There was something so captivating about the way he threw himself into everything. Whether it was talking about hockey, creating new games to play, or just dragging you along on some new adventure, Jack’s passion was infectious.

But tonight—tonight something felt different. It wasn’t that Jack was any less enthusiastic about hockey, but there was a subtle shift in the air between the two of you. As he spoke, his words becoming more animated, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of something unfamiliar. It was a strange sensation that started somewhere in the pit of your stomach and spread out, slowly working its way into your chest. Maybe it was just the energy of the evening—the warm glow of the setting sun, the peacefulness of the park, or maybe it was something else, something you didn’t fully understand yet. But as Jack’s words flowed around you, you found yourself caught in a strange mix of emotions that you couldn’t name.

You were used to listening to him talk about hockey, about his dreams and his wild plans, but tonight, for the first time, you weren’t just hearing the words. You were feeling them.

You turned to look at him, still speaking at full speed, his words coming faster now, his enthusiasm growing with every sentence. He didn’t even notice you watching him in that way, the way you were suddenly hyper-aware of every little movement—how his hands were moving as he spoke, how the sun reflected off his hair, how his voice had a different cadence tonight, more alive, more… intimate, for lack of a better word. It wasn’t anything tangible. There was no clear reason for why it felt different, but the air between you seemed to hum with a silent understanding that had never been there before.

But then, in the midst of his animated storytelling, Jack turned to you with that familiar mischievous grin, the one that always made your heart flutter a little. You had known that grin for as long as you could remember. It was the kind of grin that meant Jack was about to do or say something unexpected, something that would probably make you laugh or roll your eyes, depending on the day. But tonight, something about it felt different.

Jack was always a whirlwind of energy, the kind of kid who could never sit still for more than five seconds. He had an incredible ability to make anything sound like the best idea in the world. And when he spoke, it was with an infectious excitement, like the entire world was waiting for him to tell it what to do. He could make even the simplest things feel like the start of some grand adventure. And, for the most part, you always followed him. He was your best friend, your partner in crime, and his ideas were always bigger than yours, always more fun.

“We should get married when we’re older,” he said, completely casually, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You blinked, your mind briefly stalling as you processed the words. Your head turned toward him in confusion, trying to make sense of what he’d just said. You weren’t sure whether he was joking, serious, or if it was just another one of his wild ideas. It had to be a joke, right?

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, like you weren’t sure if you’d heard him correctly. You tilted your head, looking up at him with a puzzled expression.

Jack didn’t seem to notice the sudden tension in the air. He just smiled wider, clearly pleased with himself for getting your attention. His eyes sparkled as he leaned back, still sitting on the bench beside you, looking out at the sunset like it was the most natural thing in the world. He always had a way of making everything sound so simple, so easy. Like the world was just a place where everything worked out the way it was supposed to. And this—this idea—was no different.

“You can’t just decide that,” you said with a playful shove, trying to brush it off. You wanted to laugh, to keep things light, because it felt like a joke, right? Jack was your best friend, and this was just another one of his offhand remarks. You nudged his shoulder gently, trying to play along, but deep down, you felt a strange fluttering sensation in your chest that you didn’t fully understand.

Jack, however, didn’t back down. His smile didn’t waver for a second. In fact, he seemed to lean into it, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He was so sure of himself, his confidence radiating in the way he sat there, relaxed and unfazed by the unexpected question he had just tossed into the air. It was as if he had always known this was where the conversation would lead.

“Why not?” he said with a shrug, as though it was an entirely reasonable suggestion. “You’re my best friend. And married people are best friends, right?”

The words hit you differently than you’d expected. You’d heard about marriage before, sure, but it was always in fairy tales, with knights and princesses and happily-ever-afters. You didn’t really know what marriage meant in a deep, meaningful way, but you understood one thing—Jack was asking you to be with him forever. And though you didn’t know exactly what that looked like, the idea of it felt warm, like the gentle glow of the setting sun.

You laughed, trying to push down the feeling welling up inside you. It was absurd. It was just Jack being Jack, always saying the first thing that popped into his head. Of course, it didn’t mean anything serious. You weren’t even sure he understood what he was really saying.

But still… something about the way he said it—so casually, so confidently—made your heart beat just a little bit faster. The idea of always being with him, of never being apart, settled somewhere deep in your chest. And for the first time, the word “marriage” didn’t feel like a fairy tale. It felt like a real possibility.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. The playful, teasing tone you wanted to use felt wrong all of a sudden. Jack’s grin hadn’t faltered, and his eyes were sparkling with the kind of certainty that only he could have. But you weren’t sure anymore whether you were laughing because it was funny, or because it felt real. Too real.

“Yeah, but…” you trailed off, staring at the ground for a moment, unsure of how to explain the confusion that was building inside of you. “We’re just kids. You can’t just decide to get married.”

Jack didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. He shrugged again, unbothered by your hesitation. “Why not? You’re my best friend. We’ve always done everything together. It just makes sense.”

His words lingered in the air, carrying a strange weight you hadn’t expected. His logic was simple, almost childishly so, but it struck something inside of you that made your chest tighten. You looked at him, really looked at him, for what felt like the first time in ages. Jack wasn’t just your best friend. He was something else, something more. And suddenly, you were hyper-aware of everything—the way his hand rested just inches from yours, the way the sun hit his hair, casting a golden halo around him. His words echoed in your mind. It just makes sense.

You felt a sudden rush of warmth flood your chest, spreading outward like the soft heat of the sun sinking lower on the horizon. You wanted to brush it off, to laugh it off, to keep things the way they always had been between the two of you. But deep down, you knew something had shifted.

You hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t expected it, but suddenly you couldn’t imagine a world where Jack wasn’t your best friend, where he wasn’t the person you shared every adventure with. And the thought of being by his side, of being his in a way that was more than just friends, settled over you in a way that made your heart race.

But it didn’t make sense, right? Not now. You were just seven. You didn’t know what marriage was supposed to mean. You didn’t know what love was. It was silly, wasn’t it? Just a passing thought.

Still, something inside you—something deep and soft—wanted it to be real. Wanted Jack to be that person. Always.

Behind you, just a few feet away, Luke had been quietly swinging, his tiny legs kicking rhythmically, the chains of the swing creaking softly with each motion. It had been a peaceful moment for him, one of those simple, innocent afternoons where he felt content in his small world. But now, in the middle of your conversation with Jack, something shifted for him.

Luke had always been content in his little world, his world of swings and sunsets, of quiet afternoons that stretched on forever. There was something peaceful about the way he lived, the simplicity of his routine, and the certainty that his big brother, Jack, would always be there beside him. And you—you had always been a steady presence in that world too, a familiar face in the background, someone who would push him on the swing when he asked or cheer him on when he kicked the ball to the other side of the yard.

But today, something was different. The moment he stopped swinging—dragging his feet against the ground, the sudden halt so jarring that the swing swayed a little before coming to a stop—it was like the entire air around him had shifted. He didn’t quite understand why, but something in his chest felt tight, something unsettled bubbled up from deep inside him. His feet dragged through the dirt, and his small body seemed to freeze mid-motion. The world around him, so familiar and safe just moments ago, now felt too big, too loud, too heavy.

He didn’t quite know what it was that had made him stop, but he couldn’t seem to pull himself away from it. Something in the way you and Jack were talking made him feel like he didn’t quite fit anymore. At first, he hadn’t understood the words—you were talking about things he didn’t know about, like the future and marriage, things that didn’t make sense to him at all. But it wasn’t the words themselves that caught his attention. It was the way you were both acting, the way you were standing there, so close to each other, like there was something that didn’t include him. Like there was a secret between you two, something that made him feel like he was no longer part of the picture.

His hands, which had once been gripping the swing chains tightly, now hung limp at his sides. He could feel the stillness in his body, a strange weight settling in his chest. He looked at you both, his little body small in comparison, trying to make sense of the way you were standing together, the way your attention was so entirely focused on Jack’s words, as though he was no longer someone who mattered in the conversation. You were his world too. You had always been his world. But now… now he wasn’t so sure.

Luke didn’t understand what was happening. Not really. He didn’t know what it meant when Jack said, “We should get married when we’re older.” All he knew was that something had shifted in the air, something unspoken, and it made him feel small. He wasn’t sure why, but the words left an ache in his chest that didn’t quite make sense. The way Jack spoke about it—so casually, so easily—made Luke feel like he was standing in the middle of something big, something important that he couldn’t be a part of. And for the first time, he felt like an outsider in a world he had once felt so safe in.

His feet shuffled in the dirt, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, feeling the uncomfortable tension settle deeper in his little heart. His big eyes, full of curiosity and innocence, were fixed on you both. But there was no joy in them, no spark of the usual childlike wonder. Instead, there was a quiet sadness, an intensity that seemed far too old for a seven-year-old. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He didn’t understand why he felt left out, why his world suddenly felt off-balance.

The truth was, he had always looked up to Jack. Jack had been his hero, his older brother, the one who showed him the ropes, made him laugh, and taught him how to throw a ball. But now, in this moment, Luke could sense a shift—a shift that was happening between you and Jack, one that made him feel like there was a new kind of connection between you two that he wasn’t part of. Something unspoken, something important. And that feeling of not being included, not being part of whatever was happening, felt too big for him to carry.

His little shoulders hunched, trying to make himself smaller, trying to avoid the strange feelings crawling up his spine. His feet dragged a little more as he turned away, walking back toward the swings, but he didn’t swing this time. He didn’t know if he could swing anymore, not with the weight in his chest, not with the way his mind felt heavy and confused. So, instead, he just stood there, watching the two of you, trying to make sense of it all.

From his vantage point, everything seemed too complicated. The way you and Jack laughed, how you exchanged looks, the way your attention was so fully on him—it was all so much. It wasn’t like it had been before. It wasn’t like the afternoons where you would smile at him and push him on the swing, where everything felt simple and clear. Now, there was a distance that seemed impossible to bridge, even though he had no idea what it was. All he knew was that he wanted to be a part of it again. He wanted to be included in that world, but he didn’t know how to get back to it.

He glanced over his shoulder at you once more, his eyes full of that quiet sadness, and in that moment, it felt like you were so far away. As if you had crossed some invisible line, and now there was a space between you that couldn’t be closed. His heart hurt. It didn’t make sense. He didn’t even understand marriage, but he understood the feeling—the feeling of not being enough, of not being included in something that had once been his.

But then, just as quietly, he turned back toward the swing. It was all he could do, this small child with no words for the ache in his chest, with no way to express the confusion that was crawling through his mind. He started to push the swing gently with his foot, the creaking chains barely audible over the stillness that hung in the air. But even as he moved, there was a heaviness in him, a quiet realization that something had changed. And that change—whatever it was—made him feel like he was standing on the outside looking in.

He couldn’t understand everything, not yet. But he could feel it. He could feel the change. And that was enough to make him pause, to make him stop swinging, to make him turn away. Because even without the words, he knew that whatever was happening between you and Jack was something that didn’t quite fit with the world he had always known. And in that small, quiet moment, he realized something that made his chest ache all the more: he was no longer the center of that world.

The lake house had always felt like a second home to you. It wasn’t just the lake that made it special, or the house itself, but the feeling of being away from everything familiar, yet somehow closer to everyone that mattered. That first summer you were invited to spend there when you were eight was a turning point in your childhood, a mark in time where everything seemed to shift, like the beginning of a chapter in a story that you didn’t know was going to be so important.

It was the first day, when the sun was still high and the smell of fresh pine and saltwater clung to the air, that you felt the magic of it all. You and Jack had already wasted no time in rushing to the water, shoes abandoned on the dock as you dove in, laughing, splashing, racing to see who could swim the fastest to the floating platform in the middle of the lake.

“I’m going to beat you!” Jack called, swimming ahead, his strokes cutting through the water with ease.

You kicked harder, determined not to let him win. “You wish!” you shouted back, splashing water in his direction.

“Last one there is a rotten egg!” Jack laughed, kicking his legs to build speed, his eyes bright with excitement.

But you could feel the burn in your muscles, the fatigue setting in as the floating platform grew closer. Jack was always faster, always the one who would win the challenges you came up with, but that didn’t matter. He made it fun—he always did. Every game felt like a race, and every race felt like it was the most important thing in the world. You were in it together, the two of you, as if nothing else mattered.

You finally reached the platform, gasping for breath, and Jack was already standing there, grinning with triumph. “You’re getting slow,” he teased, splashing water in your face.

You wiped your eyes and smirked. “I let you win,” you said, playfully sticking your tongue out at him.

“Yeah, sure,” Jack laughed, rolling his eyes. “But next time, I’m not going to make it so easy for you.”

You both floated there, letting the water gently rock you, eyes squinting up at the bright sky above. The feeling of the cool water against your skin was enough to make the heat of the summer day feel far away. But then, just as you were catching your breath, you noticed him.

Luke.

He was standing on the edge of the dock, his small frame barely noticeable as he gripped the edge tightly, watching you and Jack with wide eyes. He wasn’t in the water like you, wasn’t playing along with the games. He was just there, standing a little off to the side, as always.

You were so used to Jack’s loud presence, his infectious energy that drew everyone in, that it took a moment for you to really see Luke. He wasn’t as loud, wasn’t as reckless. He wasn’t the one making every day an adventure like Jack did. But there was something about the way he looked at you—something quiet and unspoken—that made your heart twinge. You were used to Luke tagging along, used to him always watching from the sidelines, but in that moment, it felt like something more. It felt like he was waiting for something that you couldn’t give him, at least not in the same way you gave Jack.

“Luke!” you called, waving at him from the water. “Come in, it’s awesome!”

Luke hesitated, his small fingers tightening on the dock as he glanced at Jack, who was still lounging on the platform. “I don’t know…” Luke mumbled, his voice quiet, unsure.

Jack perked up at the sound of his brother’s voice. “What’s the matter, Lukey? You scared?” He flashed a teasing grin, but there was a hint of challenge in his words.

Luke’s face scrunched, his little brows furrowing. “No,” he muttered, though there was no conviction behind it.

“Come on, Luke!” you called again, trying to sound enthusiastic. “It’s not that deep, and we’re having so much fun! You’ll love it!”

He bit his lip, clearly torn, before his shoulders sagged in defeat. “Okay. Fine.” He pulled off his sneakers and set them beside the dock, dipping one foot into the water cautiously.

You and Jack watched him for a moment, both of you already knowing that Luke wasn’t as confident as you were in the water. But after a few more encouraging shouts, Luke finally stepped in, wading slowly, his head barely above the water. You swam over to him, grinning.

“I knew you could do it!” you said, reaching out and offering him your hand. “Come on, we’re gonna race back to the dock.”

Luke took your hand, his grip tight but still tentative. He glanced at Jack, who had already started swimming back toward the shore. “I don’t think I can beat you two.”

“You don’t have to beat us,” you said with a shrug, smiling warmly. “Just swim with us. It’s more fun that way.”

He seemed to relax a little at your words, and for a few moments, the three of you swam together, splashing and laughing, the water cool against your skin. But even as you swam and played, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Luke wasn’t quite part of the same world as you and Jack. He was there, yes, but it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t as comfortable in the water, wasn’t as reckless in the way he approached everything. He seemed to linger at the edges of every game, a little hesitant to jump in fully, waiting for the perfect moment.

The sun soon set, leading the group of you to settle around the fire pit. As the flames crackled, casting their warm orange glow against the night, Luke couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease settling into his chest. He sat on the edge of the fire, a little further away from everyone else, trying to blend into the background. Jack’s ghost stories were always a source of amusement for everyone, but for Luke, they felt different. It wasn’t the ghosts themselves—he wasn’t afraid of that—but the way his older brother’s voice seemed to pull all the attention, to draw everyone in so effortlessly. And the way you—you—would laugh and play along, giving Jack that familiar, easy smile that made Luke’s heart flutter in a way he couldn’t ignore.

Luke had always been quiet, content with simple games and easy fun, where he didn’t have to think too much about anything. But lately, something had been shifting, and it seemed to revolve around you. It was as though something had clicked that afternoon a few weeks back—something small, but unmistakable—and now, as he sat on the edge of the firelight, his eyes kept drifting to you. Your laughter rang out as Jack continued with his stories. Every time Jack made a dramatic gesture or spoke in his spooky voice, you would laugh, your eyes lighting up with amusement, and Luke’s chest tightened with something he didn’t understand.

There was something in the way you looked at Jack—a warmth, a familiarity—that made Luke feel as though he was standing on the outside of a world he wasn’t allowed to be a part of. He wasn’t angry, exactly, just… distant. A seed of something had been planted in his chest, and it made him feel like he was growing up too fast, like everything around him was changing in ways he couldn’t keep up with.

As Jack’s voice dropped into that familiar eerie tone, Luke tried to focus on the flames. But the words Jack spoke carried a weight that Luke couldn’t shake.

“…and they say the ghost of the old man still haunts the lake,” Jack was saying, his voice dropping to an almost whisper, “waiting for someone to come too close to the water. They say if you stand on the dock at midnight, you can hear his footsteps behind you, dragging along the wood…”

You let out a little laugh and elbowed Jack in the side. “Jack, come on, that’s the oldest story in the book! You’re just trying to scare us.”

Jack grinned, clearly enjoying the reaction. “You don’t know that!” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering even further. “They say if you get too close to the edge, he’ll grab your ankle and pull you in, dragging you down into the depths of the lake, never to be seen again…”

You made a face, clearly pretending to be spooked. “Okay, okay, I’ll bite. But I’m still not scared.”

Luke found himself watching you intently as Jack wove his tale, his words spinning a web of eerie suspense. There was something in the way you played along—how you looked at Jack with that warm, teasing affection—that made something stir inside of him. But it was the way you glanced over at him in that moment, your eyes briefly catching his, that made his heart leap in his chest.

When you reached out and grabbed Luke’s arm during the spookiest part of the story, he froze. For a moment, he thought maybe it was just his imagination, but then he felt your fingers—warm and firm—wrap around his wrist. The touch was small, but it sent a rush of heat through him, making his heart race in his chest. He clenched his fingers instinctively, as if afraid the moment would slip away too quickly if he didn’t hold on. It felt like the whole world paused, and Luke couldn’t stop the flush that crept up his neck.

His fingers felt large and awkward beneath yours, but you didn’t pull away. And for that one brief moment, the ghost story, Jack’s teasing, everything else seemed to fade into the background. He was lost in the quiet of the space between you, the warmth of your hand on his wrist.

But then, just as quickly, you let go, laughing again, your fingers slipping from his. The moment passed so easily, so quickly, as if it had never happened at all. And Luke was left staring at his own hand, the lingering warmth still there, the ache in his chest growing.

Jack’s voice brought him back to the present. “And that’s when they say you’ll hear the screams of the old man, echoing across the water…”

Luke barely heard the rest. He didn’t want to hear it. Instead, he found himself once more focusing on you, sitting next to Jack, your laughter mixing with the sounds of the night.

The group moved down to the dock, and Luke stayed behind, slipping his feet into the cool water. The night was beautiful—deep and vast, the stars scattered above like jewels—but the beauty did little to soothe the tightness in his chest. He glanced over at you again, now lying on the dock next to Jack, both of you staring up at the stars. Jack was rambling on about his plans for the future, his voice excited, and you were listening so intently, leaning toward him. The way you looked at Jack, the way you gave him your full attention, made Luke feel even more distant.

Jack’s enthusiasm was too loud. His laughter rang too sharp against the silence, and Luke found himself retreating further into the stillness of the water, where he didn’t have to fight for attention. Where he could be just there, unnoticed, and just try to understand the confusion that swirled inside him.

It was Quinn who broke the silence, standing at the edge of the dock, his eyes catching Luke’s. The older boy had a way of knowing things without needing to be told. Quinn’s gaze softened, his expression unreadable, but Luke could sense the shift in him. The quiet understanding.

Luke quickly turned his eyes back to the water, not wanting Quinn to see, not wanting anyone to know how much he was changing inside. But Quinn had already seen it.

A small, almost knowing smile curled at Quinn’s lips. He nodded once, just a slight tilt of his head, as if acknowledging the unspoken shift that had started to settle in Luke’s heart.

Quinn didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. And in that moment, Luke felt something settle in his chest—something lighter, something like reassurance. He wasn’t sure if Quinn understood everything, but he felt a little less alone in it all.

But the night carried on, and Luke stayed at the edge of the world, staring at the stars, waiting for something to change, waiting for the gap between him and the rest of the world to close. He didn’t want to be left behind. Not anymore. But the ache inside him—stronger than before—was something he wasn’t sure how to share. He wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap between the feeling he had and the words he couldn’t find.

For now, though, he stayed silent. He stayed at the edge of the dock, watching the night pass by, hoping that one day, it would all come together. That the ache in his chest would make sense, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to carry it alone anymore.

The summers always stretched on endlessly, the lake house becoming more familiar with each passing day, and yet every time you and Jack rushed down the dock or leapt off the platform, the excitement felt new. It was a rhythm you had come to depend on, like the pulse of the water beneath you, the steady pattern of life that had taken root here by the lake.

But despite the constant flow of games and adventures, there were moments when the world seemed to slow, when the noise of the days fell away, leaving only the stars, the soft rustle of the trees, and the quiet company of Luke.

One of those nights had arrived by the end of the week, when the air had turned cool, and the sky stretched out above you like an endless canvas. You and Jack had spent the entire day competing—arguing over who could jump from the highest point on the dock, who could hold their breath underwater the longest, who could run from the house to the dock in the shortest time. It was the same thing every summer, the same challenges, the same breathless laughter. But as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, fatigue settled into your limbs, and for once, you and Jack let yourselves slow down.

Jack had gone inside to grab some snacks, leaving you alone with Luke.

Luke had been sitting quietly at the edge of the dock, his legs crossed, his hands braced behind him as he leaned back to stare at the night sky. He wasn’t as loud as Jack, never the first one to dive into the chaos, but there was something about the way he existed in these moments—so quietly, so fully—that made it feel like he belonged here just as much as anyone else.

You stretched out beside him, letting your legs dangle off the dock, the cool wood pressing against your bare skin. The air smelled like pine and lake water, thick with the warmth of the day fading into the crispness of the evening. The kind of night that felt so still, like everything in the world had paused just to let you breathe.

Luke shifted slightly beside you, and you noticed how he always sat a little closer than usual, how his knee brushed against yours every now and then as if he couldn’t quite figure out the space between you. But he didn’t say anything, and neither did you.

Instead, you both just watched the stars, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a blanket.

From Luke’s perspective, everything felt like it was slowing down.

The stars were so big tonight. They seemed to stretch on forever, like they were waiting for him to notice. He didn’t often sit this still, didn’t usually spend his time just watching the sky. There were rocks to skip and trees to climb, adventures to go on. But tonight, it felt different. Maybe it was the way the night air cooled his skin, the way the breeze felt like a promise, or the way you were beside him, the only sound your soft breaths mixing with the rustle of leaves in the trees.

He glanced at you. You looked so comfortable, so at ease, like the world was something you understood in a way he couldn’t quite grasp. Luke had always been quieter than Jack. He didn’t speak as easily, didn’t have the same kind of loud energy that Jack did. But in these moments with you, he didn’t feel like he needed to be anyone else. He didn’t need to act like Jack, didn’t have to say anything clever or jump into a race to prove himself.

Your quiet presence was enough.

But it was also something else. Something that made his stomach twist a little, made his thoughts turn into a confusing jumble. It was the way your knee brushed against his, how you never pulled away, how it felt like you had no problem being near him. You hadn’t noticed, of course. But Luke was aware. More aware than he should have been. His thoughts, his heart, they didn’t make sense. He had never been good at understanding what he was feeling.

He looked at the stars, trying to keep his mind occupied with something else. But there was a part of him that wanted to ask you questions. Wanted to talk to you, share something with you. But what could he say? What did he even feel?

“What’s that one?” he asked suddenly, pointing at a cluster of stars near the horizon.

You turned your head slightly, following his finger. “That’s Orion’s Belt,” you said, shifting to sit up a little. “Those three stars in a line. You can find them every year, and it’s said that they’re the hunter.”

Luke furrowed his brow. He wasn’t sure what the hunter meant. He didn’t know if he even understood the stars the way you did, but he wanted to know. Wanted to understand the world like you seemed to. “Why is he a hunter?” Luke asked, feeling the weight of the question in his chest, “What’s he hunting?”

You paused, and for a second, Luke thought maybe you hadn’t heard him, but then you responded, your voice soft, “I don’t know. I think it’s just something from old stories. Maybe he’s hunting for adventure or something big. He probably had dreams like we do.”

Luke stayed quiet for a moment, digesting your words. He watched the stars again, his mind turning over the idea. He wasn’t sure what adventure meant, but the idea of it—the feeling of searching for something more—caught his attention. He looked at you, your face lit by the soft glow of starlight, and he felt a sudden urge to ask another question. Not about stars this time, but something bigger.

“Do you think we’ll have adventures like that when we’re older?”

It was a question that felt too big, like a thought that had been floating in his chest for a while, and now it had finally found its way out. He wasn’t sure what made him ask, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt like he was standing on the edge of something—something he couldn’t quite see, but that made his heart beat faster. His voice was soft, quieter than usual. Almost uncertain. He wanted to know the answer, but he was also afraid of hearing it.

Luke’s question took you by surprise.

It was a simple question, really. But you could hear the quiet weight behind it, the way it lingered in the air, like Luke was asking for something more than just an answer about adventures. He was asking about the future. About his future. What kind of life he would have when things weren’t just about running around and having fun at the lake. What kind of person he would be when the world wasn’t as simple anymore.

You didn’t know. You hadn’t figured that out for yourself. You had spent so many summers here, growing up with Jack, and yet you couldn’t predict the next few years, let alone the kind of future Luke would have.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, your voice soft as you turned back to the stars. “I think everyone has their own adventure. Maybe they’re different, but they’re all important. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

Luke didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel the way his eyes lingered on you. You didn’t know exactly what was going on inside him, but you could tell that something had shifted in him tonight. Something you hadn’t seen before. There was a stillness to him now, a quiet understanding, and it felt like it was building up inside him, like he had caught a glimpse of something bigger, and it was all tangled up in that simple question.

And when you glanced at him, he wasn’t just looking at you. He was hearing you, too. His gaze was intense, thoughtful, and for a moment, it made your heart beat a little faster. You didn’t know what it meant. But it felt important.

After a while, Jack came back with a bag of chips, shoving the screen door open with a loud bang, breaking the quiet spell between you and Luke. The night faded back into its usual rhythm—Jack talking too loud, the crinkle of plastic as he ripped open the bag, the familiar chaos of another summer night at the lake.

But you couldn’t help noticing how Luke stayed close to you after that.

How he sat just a little closer than before, how he lingered beside you when Jack wasn’t looking, how he seemed to seek out your presence in little, unspoken ways. You didn’t know what it meant, but it felt different.

And even though you didn’t understand it yet, something about it felt like a beginning. Something you couldn’t quite name, but something you were starting to notice more each day.

For now, the night would go on, and Jack would fill it with his usual boisterous energy. But there was a shift, a quiet shift in Luke, that made you feel like the summer was moving forward in a way you hadn’t expected. The lake, the stars, the nights spent in quiet company—this was all part of it, part of the change that was unfolding slowly, one conversation, one glance at a time.

The next day dawned bright and cloudless, the kind of summer morning where the air was already thick with warmth, the sun glittering off the water like a thousand tiny diamonds. The lake was calm, barely a ripple disturbing its glassy surface, and the excitement buzzing between you and the boys was almost tangible.

Jack, as expected, was already hyped up, practically bouncing on the dock as he grabbed his paddle. His energy was endless, like he was constantly running on some invisible fuel that no one else could match. He turned to you and Luke, his grin wide and mischievous. “Alright,” he announced, puffing out his chest like a true competitor, “first one to the floating platform and back wins. No cheating.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You’re just saying that because you’re the biggest cheater here.”

Jack gasped in mock offense. “Me? A cheater? Please. I’m just naturally faster than you.”

Luke, who had been kneeling beside his canoe, adjusting his paddle, snorted. “You always cheat, Jack. You just call it strategy.”

Jack waggled his eyebrows. “It’s not my fault I’m smarter than you.”

“You’re not smarter,” Luke shot back. “You’re just reckless.”

Jack only grinned wider, already lowering himself into his canoe. “Same thing.”

With that, he was off, shoving away from the dock with an exaggerated push, his paddle slicing through the water in wild, hurried strokes. You barely had time to climb into your own canoe before Jack was halfway across the lake, moving with all the grace of a bull charging forward.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, grabbing your paddle and pushing off.

Luke, still on the dock, rolled his eyes before easing himself into his canoe, far less rushed than either of you. You could see the difference instantly—where Jack was all force and chaos, Luke moved carefully, steadily. His strokes were slower but more controlled, his canoe gliding through the water rather than thrashing against it.

You tried to catch up with Jack, pushing yourself forward, your arms already burning from the effort. The lake was bigger than it seemed from the shore, and the floating platform in the middle felt impossibly far away. Water splashed against your arms as you paddled harder, your breath coming in short, determined huffs. Jack was still ahead, but he wasn’t as smooth as he thought—his frantic paddling caused his canoe to veer slightly off course every now and then, forcing him to correct himself.

“You’re wasting energy!” you called out, laughing as you gained on him.

Jack only grinned over his shoulder. “Yeah, but I’m still winning!”

It wasn’t until you reached the platform that you let yourself rest, your canoe bumping gently against the side of the wooden float. Jack was already there, panting slightly but triumphant. He smacked his hand against the platform dramatically, as if claiming victory. “Boom. Winner.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Race isn’t over yet.”

Jack laughed, already pushing his canoe back toward the shore. “Better hurry up then!”

You were about to follow when you glanced back, realizing that Luke was still a little ways behind. He wasn’t struggling—far from it—but he wasn’t racing either. His strokes remained patient, steady, as if he wasn’t concerned about beating anyone. He was simply moving, letting the water carry him as much as he carried himself.

Something about that made you pause. Jack had already disappeared ahead, but suddenly, winning didn’t seem as important anymore. Instead of rushing after him, you turned your canoe slightly, slowing your strokes to match Luke’s pace.

He glanced up at you, surprised. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

You shrugged, resting your paddle across your lap for a moment. “I don’t mind.”

A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn’t say anything right away, but you could tell he appreciated it. The two of you paddled side by side, the sounds of the water lapping gently against the canoes filling the quiet between you.

Luke hesitated, then spoke, his voice softer than before. “Jack always makes everything a competition.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a laugh, shaking your head. “He doesn’t really know how to do things any other way.”

Luke glanced at you, thoughtful. “Do you like that?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

Luke’s paddle skimmed the surface of the water, creating small ripples. “Always having to race. Having everything be about winning.”

You exhaled, considering. With Jack, it had always been like that—fast-paced, wild, a constant need to prove something. And it was fun, most of the time. But there was something different about the way you were moving now, next to Luke, with no urgency, no need to rush.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing toward the shore where Jack was already climbing onto the dock, victorious. “I guess sometimes it’s nice to just—be.”

Luke nodded, his gaze fixed on the water. “Yeah.”

Neither of you spoke for a while after that, just paddling together in a comfortable silence. The sun was higher in the sky now, reflecting golden streaks onto the lake’s surface. You let yourself get lost in the rhythm of it, the slow, unhurried way Luke moved, how it felt like he wasn’t trying to chase anything—just experiencing it as it came.

By the time you finally reached the shore, Jack was waiting, arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently. “What took you guys so long?”

You shrugged, stepping out of the canoe and stretching your arms. “We were enjoying the view.”

Jack scoffed, but Luke just smiled knowingly. You caught the small look he gave you—like he understood something you hadn’t fully realized yet. And in that moment, standing there on the dock with the water dripping from your fingertips and the summer sun warming your skin, you realized that maybe, just maybe, Luke had the right idea all along.

The rainy days at the lake house had a magic of their own. They brought with them the soft patter of raindrops against the windows, the smell of damp earth rising from the porch, and the hum of restless energy that filled the house as you all searched for ways to entertain yourselves. The moment the first drops fell, signaling that you’d be stuck inside for the day, Jack would immediately declare, “Knee hockey tournament. Living room. Right now.”

It was a tradition. The coffee table was shoved to the side, pillows lined the edges of the room as makeshift boards, and everyone knew the stakes were high. Jack, naturally, was the most competitive, his grin practically splitting his face as he grabbed a mini stick and tossed you another. “Dream team, back again,” he announced, bumping his shoulder against yours. You caught the stick easily, already grinning. You and Jack were always the duo to beat, your quick reflexes and synchronized movement making you nearly unstoppable.

Quinn, ever the strategist, took his time choosing his teammate, tapping his chin dramatically before slinging an arm around Luke’s shoulders. “I’ll take Luke,” he said, grinning as if he knew something you didn’t.

Luke shifted beside him, his expression unreadable at first, but there was something in his eyes—something determined, something that almost looked like anticipation. He didn’t protest.

Jack just scoffed. “Good luck,” he teased, twirling his stick between his fingers. “You’ll need it.”

The first game was fast-paced, the sound of the plastic ball slapping against the hardwood floor echoing through the house. Jack and you worked in tandem, passing quickly, faking each other out, weaving through the small space with an ease that only came from years of playing together. Every goal you scored, Jack celebrated like it was a Stanley Cup game, yelling dramatically and sliding across the floor on his knees.

But Luke and Quinn weren’t easy to beat.

Luke wasn’t as fast as Jack, and he didn’t have Quinn’s sharp strategic mind, but he had something else—a quiet patience, a precision in the way he moved. He watched the plays unfold, predicting your movements, using his body and stick to block your best shots. He wasn’t reckless like Jack, wasn’t rushing headfirst into every play. Instead, he was steady, deliberate, thinking two steps ahead.

At first, you barely noticed. You were too caught up in the thrill of the game, too focused on scoring. But then, every time you tried to cut around him, he was just… there. Anticipating. Blocking. Smirking a little when he managed to steal the ball from you.

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “You’re getting good at this, Lukey.”

He shrugged, but there was something teasing in the tilt of his lips. “Maybe I’ve always been good. You just never noticed.”

That threw you off more than it should have.

Jack groaned dramatically, cutting between you. “Stop flirting and play the game!”

You blinked, heat rushing to your face. “We’re not—”

But Luke just grinned, turning back to the game as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just sent your mind into a tailspin.

As the summers passed, knee hockey remained a staple of the rainy days, but something about those moments with Luke started to shift. It wasn’t just the way he played anymore—it was the way he was. The way he carried himself. He was taller now, his movements more confident. He didn’t hesitate as much, didn’t linger in Jack’s shadow like he used to.

And then there were the moments—small, fleeting, but impossible to ignore.

Like when you had just swum back to the dock one afternoon, breathless from racing Jack across the lake, your arms aching from the effort. Jack had already hoisted himself up, shaking out his wet hair like a dog before flopping onto his back. You reached for the dock’s edge, ready to pull yourself up when suddenly, there was Luke.

He was crouched at the edge, one hand outstretched toward you. His fingers curled slightly in a silent offer.

You hesitated for just a second before reaching up. His hand was warm despite the coolness of the water, his grip firm but gentle as he pulled you up. For a moment, your fingers lingered together, your skin slick with water, your breath caught in your throat for reasons you didn’t quite understand.

And then, just as quickly as it had happened, Luke cleared his throat, dropping his gaze as he let go, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

You swallowed, trying to shake off whatever that had been.

Jack, oblivious as always, sat up, running a hand through his damp hair. “C’mon, let’s go again. Best two out of three.”

But Luke was still looking at you—like he knew something had shifted.

And maybe… maybe you did too.

Some nights, after the chaos of the day had settled and the others had gone inside, you and Luke found yourselves lying on the dock, staring up at the stars. It was never planned, never something you spoke about beforehand—it just happened.

Jack was usually the one who exhausted himself first, retreating inside after a long day of swimming and competing. Quinn would follow soon after, leaving you and Luke behind in the quiet lull of the night, the water gently lapping against the dock.

Luke lay beside you, arms folded behind his head, his gaze fixed on the sky. “Do you think it’s weird that everything looks so big at night?” he asked suddenly, his voice low.

You turned your head slightly to look at him. “Big?”

“Yeah,” he continued, his brows knitting together in thought. “Like, during the day, everything feels… normal. But at night, when you look up, it’s like—you realize how small you are.”

You stared up at the stars, the vast, endless expanse of them. “I guess so,” you murmured. “But I think that’s kind of nice. Like, it makes everything else—everything that feels too big—seem smaller.”

Luke was quiet for a moment, as if letting your words settle. Then, softly, “Yeah. I like that.”

The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was peaceful, a quiet understanding that didn’t need words.

Then, in a softer voice, Luke asked, “Do you ever think about what happens after this?”

You turned your head to look at him again, surprised by the question. “After what?”

“After all this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the lake, at the sky. “After we grow up.”

You exhaled, staring up at the stars again. “Sometimes. But I try not to think about it too much. I like it here. I like now.”

Luke nodded slowly, as if he understood. And maybe he did. Maybe he felt the same.

The summers were changing. You were changing. And Luke wasn’t just Jack’s little brother anymore. He was something else—someone else. Though your heart still truly belonged to his older brother, no matter how hard Luke tried.

At sixteen, Jack told you after practice one afternoon, back home, when summer was still weeks away.

You had stayed late at the rink, the way you always did, dragging out the minutes after his practice because neither of you were ever in a hurry to leave. The ice had already been cleaned, the faint smell of Zamboni fumes still lingering in the air, and most of his teammates had already headed out. But Jack had slung an arm around your shoulders and said, “One more round,” and you never could say no to him.

So you skated circles around each other for another twenty minutes, taking lazy shots on goal, passing the puck back and forth without speaking. It was comfortable, easy. The way it had always been.

And then, after you finally dragged yourselves off the ice, you sat together outside the rink, letting the cool spring breeze dry the sweat still clinging to your skin. His hockey bag was tossed carelessly beside him, skates still half-laced like he hadn’t quite decided if he was done for the day. The sun was warm against your face, the kind of warmth that made the air feel electric, buzzing with the quiet anticipation of summer.

Jack leaned back on his elbows, stretching his legs out in front of him, and kicked absently at a dandelion sprouting between the cracks in the pavement. His voice was casual, easy, when he said it.

“Oh, by the way, I’ve got a girlfriend now.”

It took a second for the words to sink in.

You had been in the middle of reaching for your water bottle, fingers curling around the plastic, when the sentence hit you like a slap.

“What?”

Jack turned his head toward you, squinting against the sun, his mouth curling into that familiar lopsided grin. “Yeah. Alyssa. You know her, right? She’s in our chem class.”

You did know her.

She was blonde, pretty, and effortlessly cool—the kind of girl who seemed to float through life with an ease you had never quite mastered. The kind of girl who made sense for Jack, in a way you suddenly felt like you didn’t.

“Oh,” you said, forcing your expression into something neutral, something that wouldn’t betray the way your stomach had twisted into a knot. “That’s… cool.”

Jack’s grin widened, oblivious to the way your voice had faltered. “Yeah, she’s awesome. You’ll love her.”

You nodded, pretending to be interested, pretending that the sudden ache in your chest was nothing more than an odd reaction to the heat.

And then, as if the news itself hadn’t been enough, he added, “She’s coming to the lake house this summer.”

You felt like the ground had been yanked out from under you.

The lake house.

Your lake house.

The place that had always been yours—yours and Jack’s, yours and the Hughes’, yours and the memories you had built there for nearly a decade.

You swallowed, forcing your expression to stay neutral. “Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.”

Jack didn’t seem to notice your hesitation. He just stretched his arms over his head, looking out at the parking lot like this was just another conversation, just another day. “It’s gonna be great. She’s never been, so I’ll need you to help me show her around.”

You wanted to tell him no.

You wanted to tell him she didn’t belong there, that the lake house wasn’t just some place—it was home. It was the sound of Jack’s laughter echoing off the water, the endless knee hockey battles on rainy days, the constellations you used to trace in the sky when the two of you were kids, whispering dreams about the future.

It wasn’t supposed to change.

But instead, you just nodded.

“Yeah,” you said, the word barely making it past the lump in your throat. “It’ll be fun.”

Jack grinned, already moving on, already pulling out his phone to check his messages, like he hadn’t just turned your entire world upside down.

And just like that, everything shifted.

The first night at the lake house, you couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t Alyssa’s fault. Not really.

She was nice in the effortless way that pretty girls always seemed to be. She laughed at Jack’s jokes, tucked herself easily into the spaces that had once been yours, fit in with the family like she had always belonged. She had only been here for a few hours, and yet somehow, she already knew which cabinet the cereal was in, already had Quinn rolling his eyes at one of Jack’s ridiculous stories, already knew exactly how to lean into Jack’s side at the dinner table like she had always been the one sitting next to him.

Like that seat had never been yours to begin with.

Maybe it never was.

Maybe you were the one who had been holding onto something that had never really belonged to you.

So you smiled. You nodded when she spoke to you, laughed when you were supposed to, played the role of best friend because that’s all you had ever been. And if your fingers curled a little too tightly around the edge of the table, if your stomach twisted every time Jack whispered something into her ear, if the food on your plate went mostly untouched—no one noticed.

Or at least, you thought they didn’t.

The house settled into a comfortable quiet as the night stretched on, the familiar creaks of the wooden floors, the distant hum of crickets beyond the porch screens. Jack and Alyssa had disappeared upstairs together after dinner, their laughter trailing up the staircase, and you had felt something inside of you unravel.

So you had slipped out onto the porch, closing the door quietly behind you, needing air, needing space, needing something to dull the ache in your chest.

The lake stretched out before you, dark and endless, the water lapping gently against the dock. It should have been comforting. It always had been before. But tonight, it felt hollow.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, pressing your fingers into your ribs as if that would somehow keep the hurt from spilling out.

The door creaked open behind you.

You didn’t turn, but you knew who it was before he even spoke.

Luke.

He was always the one who lingered. The one who noticed things even when you tried to hide them.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just sat beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed against yours, his body warm against the cool night air. He didn’t try to fill the silence, didn’t try to force words where they didn’t belong.

And for some reason, that was what undid you.

The tears came before you could stop them, silent at first, then harder, faster, your shoulders shaking as you tried to hold it in, tried to pretend you weren’t breaking apart right there on the porch.

Luke let out a quiet breath, barely audible over the sound of the water. And then, without hesitation, he reached out, pulling you into him.

You didn’t resist.

You buried your face against his chest, gripping fistfuls of his sweatshirt like it was the only thing keeping you from shattering completely.

He was warm. Solid. Safe.

His arms tightened around you, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head as he let you sob into him, let you break apart without saying a word.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that—curled into Luke’s chest, the fabric of his sweatshirt damp beneath your cheek, your fingers still twisted into the material like you were afraid to let go. But Luke never moved. Never let go. He just held you like he had been waiting to, like he had always known this moment would come.

And maybe it was because you were crying too hard, or maybe it was because your mind was too clouded with grief for something you had never really had—but you didn’t hear it.

You didn’t hear the way Luke exhaled shakily, like he was holding back something too big to say aloud.

You didn’t hear the quiet, broken words he finally let slip.

“If only I were him.”

But Quinn did.

He had been walking past on his way to the kitchen, pausing at the doorway when he saw the two of you.

His expression was unreadable as he stood there, watching the way Luke held you, the way his fingers curled ever so slightly into the fabric of your sweatshirt, the way he looked at you.

And then, without a word, Quinn turned and walked away.

You had eventually left him there.

Slipped out of his arms, whispered a quiet ‘thank you’, and disappeared back into the house before he could stop you. Before he could say anything—before he could ask you to stay.

Luke had let you go, even though everything in him had wanted to hold on just a little longer. Just long enough to keep you close, to keep you from slipping through his fingers like water, like you always did.

Now, the dock was empty except for him.

But the ghost of you remained.

The warmth of you still clung to his sweatshirt, the scent of lake water and the faintest hint of whatever soap you used lingering in the fabric. The weight of you had pressed into his side, curled into his chest as you cried, and even though you were gone, he still felt you there.

Luke sat motionless, staring out at the water, his breath slow and uneven. The lake stretched out in front of him, vast and endless, its surface dark except for where the moonlight painted streaks of silver. It was quiet now—no laughter, no voices drifting from the house, just the steady lapping of the water against the dock, the occasional rustling of the trees in the breeze.

He should have gone inside.

Should have shaken it off, pretended like nothing had happened. Like holding you, feeling you tremble against him, hadn’t carved something deep into his chest. Like it hadn’t made him ache in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from.

But he couldn’t move.

Because the truth sat too heavy in his bones, pressing down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake.

Because the words had already slipped past his lips.

Soft, quiet, spoken to no one but the night itself.

‘If only I were him.’

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, dragging a hand down his face, as if he could erase the thought from his mind, as if he could shove it back down into the part of himself that he had spent years trying to ignore.

But it was too late.

Because the words were out there now, hanging in the cool night air, impossible to take back.

He wished he were Jack.

He wished, just for a second, that he had been born in a different place, with a different name, with a different place in your heart.

Because then maybe—just maybe—you would have seen him.

Not as Jack’s little brother.

Not as a second choice.

Not as the boy who was always just a little too young, a little too quiet, a little too easy to overlook.

But as someone.

As yours.

Luke let out a slow breath, staring down at his hands. His fingers curled into his sweatshirt—your sweatshirt now, because he knew you’d probably stolen it from Jack’s room at some point. His grip tightened, like if he held on tight enough, he could still feel you there.

But it didn’t matter.

Because you hadn’t heard him.

You hadn’t heard the quiet confession, the words that had been sitting in his chest for longer than he wanted to admit.

And even if you had…

You still wouldn’t have understood what they meant.

But Quinn had heard.

Luke heard the footsteps before he saw him.

The quiet creak of the old wooden boards, the familiar rhythm of Quinn’s stride—it was enough to tell him he wasn’t alone anymore. But he didn’t look up. He just kept his gaze locked on the water, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together like he could wring the frustration from his bones.

Quinn didn’t speak as he lowered himself onto the dock beside him, stretching his legs out in front of him, their shoulders barely brushing. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

The night was still, the lake stretching out before them, dark and endless. The moon carved a silver path across its surface, shimmering in the gentle ripple of the waves. It should have been peaceful. It had always been peaceful before. But now, the silence only seemed to amplify the storm raging in Luke’s chest.

He stared at the water, trying to steady himself, trying to ignore the way his pulse still hadn’t settled since you had been in his arms, since your tears had soaked into his sweatshirt, since you had disappeared inside without ever hearing what he had said, the words still sitting bitter on his tongue.

Quinn exhaled beside him, breaking the quiet with a sigh that felt heavier than it should have. And then, finally, he spoke.

“You love her.”

Not a question. Just fact.

Luke let out a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking his head. His grip on his hands tightened, knuckles white in the moonlight. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Quinn’s voice was softer this time, but there was something firm underneath it, something unyielding. “You should tell her.”

Luke scoffed, shaking his head. His throat burned, the weight of it all pressing down on him. “She loves Jack.”

The words came out sharp, clipped. He hadn’t meant them to. But saying them aloud made them feel heavier, like they held more truth than they should.

Quinn didn’t say anything for a long time.

The air between them was thick with something unspoken, something impossible to name. Luke could hear everything—the soft rustling of the trees, the distant hum of crickets, the steady lapping of the lake against the dock. It all felt too loud, too sharp against the quiet ache settling in his chest.

And then, finally, Quinn broke the silence.

“She thinks she does.” His voice was careful, measured. “But she’s never even thought about you as an option.”

The words hit Luke harder than he expected.

Because they were true.

You had never looked at him the way you looked at Jack. Never let your gaze linger. Never let your fingers brush his just to feel the contact. Never let yourself wonder if maybe—just maybe—he could be someone to you.

Because to you, there was only ever Jack.

Luke clenched his jaw, his chest tight, his stomach twisting itself into knots. His fists curled against his knees, nails biting into his palms.

“Because I was born in the wrong place,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “If I were Jack…”

But Quinn cut him off before he could finish.

“But you’re not Jack.” His voice was quiet, steady, but there was something firm beneath it, something final. “And maybe that’s a good thing.”

Luke swallowed hard, staring out at the water, at the reflection of the stars shimmering in the dark.

But he wasn’t sure Quinn was right.

Because if being himself meant always being second, always being the afterthought, always sitting alone on this damn dock while you smiled at someone else—then he wasn’t sure he wanted to be Luke at all.

Luke never brought it up. And neither did you.

The night you had cried into his chest, the way his arms had wrapped around you so tightly—like he could somehow hold you together—it was never mentioned again. It became one of those moments that lived in the quiet spaces between you, something fragile and unspoken.

But it lingered.

He felt it every time you sat at the dinner table, smiling when you were supposed to, nodding along as Alyssa laughed at something Jack said. Every time your fingers curled around the edge of your glass just a little too tightly. Every time your eyes drifted toward them—toward Jack and the girl at his side—and took on that faraway look, glassy and unreadable.

Luke knew you were hurting.

And God, he hated it.

But there was nothing he could do.

Because even though he wanted to reach across the space between you, to shake you, to tell you that Jack wasn’t the only person in the world worth loving—you didn’t see it.

You didn’t see him.

And Luke didn’t know which was worse: the fact that you were in love with Jack or the fact that you didn’t even realize how much Luke loved you.

So he stayed quiet.

He watched as the summer stretched on, as you smiled when you were supposed to, as you forced yourself to be okay. And maybe to everyone else, it worked. Maybe Jack and Alyssa and even Quinn believed the act.

But Luke didn’t.

He saw how your hands clenched in your lap every time Jack threw an arm around Alyssa’s shoulders. He saw the way your throat tightened when she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He saw the way you looked away, always just a second too late, always after the damage had already been done.

And it killed him.

Because you deserved more than this—more than spending the summer pretending you were fine, pretending your heart wasn’t breaking every time Jack smiled at someone who wasn’t you.

Luke wanted to tell you that.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just kept sitting beside you on the dock, kept making quiet jokes when the house got too loud, kept handing you a marshmallow before you even had to ask for one by the fire. Kept being there, in the only way you would let him be.

And maybe that wasn’t enough.

But it was all he had.

The first time you missed the trip to the lake house, it seemed trivial. Just a weekend, right? You could make up some reason—something simple that wouldn’t raise suspicions. Family obligations, work commitments, even the classic “I’ve got a lot of homework” excuse would be enough. After all, you’d been going to the lake house for as long as you could remember. It had become a part of you, woven into the fabric of your summers, a backdrop to countless memories with Jack, Luke, and Quinn. A weekend away wouldn’t change anything, right?

But it did.

You could feel it the moment you hung up the phone with Jack. The weight in your chest, heavy and undeniable. You thought you could escape the feeling, put it out of your mind, but it lingered in the corners of your thoughts. The lake house wasn’t just a place; it was a memory, a comfort, and now it was a reminder of everything you were trying to avoid.

You told yourself it would just be one weekend. That you were just taking a break. You convinced yourself it was temporary. You were busy, that’s all. There would be another time. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t that simple. There was something more, something unspoken between you and the others that you didn’t know how to confront. It had been brewing for weeks now, something under the surface, something you couldn’t put into words.

When Jack called, you almost dreaded hearing his voice. It was familiar, comforting, but also the thing that felt like a weight around your neck. The guilt hit you all over again, curling deep in your stomach.

“Hey, are you coming this weekend?” Jack’s voice was casual, but there was an edge of expectation underneath it. “We’ll be at the lake house, like always.”

You could hear the unspoken promise in his tone—this is what we always do. And you hated yourself for it. Hated that you couldn’t just say yes, that you couldn’t be there like you always were. Your hand gripped the edge of the counter, your knuckles white, as your mind raced for an answer.

You wanted to say yes. You wanted to slip back into that familiar rhythm, to fall into the comfort of the lake house and the people who filled it. You wanted to be with Jack and Quinn, and especially Luke, but the thought of seeing them all together made your chest tighten. You weren’t ready. Not yet. You didn’t know how to face them, how to face yourself in that space. You couldn’t bear to see their faces, not when you had so much left unsaid, so much you hadn’t dealt with.

“I… I can’t, Jack,” you said, your voice faltering just slightly as you tried to keep the lie steady. “I’ve got work.” The words sounded hollow, even to your own ears, and the guilt twisted in your gut. “Maybe next time.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. You could almost hear him processing, trying to understand, but the confusion lingered there in the quiet. You hated that it was so easy to lie, that the words came so naturally. You hadn’t been ready to deal with what was really going on inside you, and so you just pushed it all down.

Jack sighed, a sound that carried a touch of disappointment, but also something more—something patient. He always knew how to give you space when you needed it, even when it hurt him. “Alright,” he said softly, his tone still holding that hint of sadness. “Well, we’ll miss you. But I get it. Just… don’t stay away too long, okay?”

You promised him you wouldn’t, but deep down, you knew you were lying. You didn’t know when you’d go back, or if you would. And as soon as you hung up the phone, you knew the distance between you and the lake house, between you and them, was widening.

The next weekend came, and you stayed home again. And the one after that. And then it became easier—slipping out of the routine, making new excuses, burying yourself in other things so that you wouldn’t have to think about it. It was easier to hide behind a wall of work and other commitments than to face the truth.

And what was the truth? That you weren’t ready. Not for the lake house, not for Jack and Alyssa, not for Luke. It was easier this way, wasn’t it? To stay away. To pretend like everything was fine, like you didn’t feel the aching pull between what was and what could never be again.

The absence didn’t go unnoticed, though. Not by Jack, and certainly not by Luke.

Jack didn’t say much. Maybe he didn’t want to push you too hard. You were always good at deflecting, at making light of things, and maybe that’s what Jack saw in you—a person who was always willing to pull herself together, even when it didn’t make sense. But Luke? Luke noticed everything. Every little shift, every subtle change. And when you weren’t there, when you stopped showing up, it was like a part of him was missing too.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks, and you knew it. The last time you’d crossed paths had been so fleeting—just a few minutes at the grocery store, the briefest exchange of glances. He’d smiled at you, but it wasn’t the smile you remembered. It was distant, guarded, like he was afraid to get too close. And maybe he was. You were afraid too.

It wasn’t just that Luke noticed your absence—it was the weight of what was left unsaid between you, the quiet space that had grown larger with every missed trip. Every time you saw him from a distance, there was something in his eyes that pulled at you, something unspoken that you couldn’t ignore, but also couldn’t face. You had known him longer than anyone else, and yet now, he was the one you couldn’t quite reach.

The weeks stretched on, and the distance between you and the lake house deepened. It wasn’t just the physical distance—it was the emotional gap that had started to separate you from Jack, from Luke, from everything you had once known.

And Luke? Luke was the hardest part of all. Because no matter how hard you tried to keep your distance, no matter how many excuses you made, you couldn’t escape the way your heart twisted whenever you thought of him. You couldn’t escape the way you missed him—missed the way he’d been there for you, the way his presence had felt like home. It was easier to pretend, to tell yourself that you were just busy, but you knew the truth: you were avoiding him. You were avoiding everything, and truly you didn’t understand why.

The silence between you and the lake house grew louder with each passing day. And somehow, you felt yourself drifting further away—not just from the lake house, but from everyone you once considered family. But you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Because if you did, if you allowed yourself to face them, then you’d have to face everything you were running from. And that was the hardest part of all.

The week after the summer had ended and you missed yet another lake house trip, Quinn found you. He hadn’t been looking for you exactly. He wasn’t sure what had driven him to come, but the truth was he knew something was wrong. You’d stopped coming, and it was starting to weigh on him. The silence between your absence and Luke’s growing frustration wasn’t something Quinn could ignore, even though Luke never said a word about it. But Quinn could feel it—could feel how the absence of you was slowly becoming too heavy for all of them to carry.

Quinn had no clear plan as he stood outside your door, his knuckles hovering just above the wood, unsure of whether he should knock or simply leave. The house had always been a place of comfort, a home that felt like his, but today, it seemed different. Quiet in a way that made his chest tighten, the sounds of your laughter no longer filling the corners. The soft shuffle of your footsteps, the casual conversations you’d had over the years—those sounds were missing, and in their place was a hollow emptiness that Quinn could almost taste.

You answered the door slowly, and for a moment, he wondered if you had been expecting someone else. Your eyes were too tired, too distant, and there was something about the way you stood there, half hiding behind the door, that made him feel as though you were trying to shield yourself from something—or maybe from him. He couldn’t quite tell.

He didn’t want to make things worse. He wasn’t sure how much to push, how much you’d be willing to share. The hesitation in his step betrayed his uncertainty, but when you met his gaze, he saw something that twisted in his chest: something sad and lost.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, the words hanging in the air between you.

You gave a small smile, but it was strained, and Quinn could see right through it. He didn’t believe you for a second.

“Yeah, just… busy with school and everything. You know how it is.” You shrugged, but the motion felt hollow, and your eyes never quite met his.

Quinn nodded, but he knew it wasn’t the whole story. He could feel it—could feel how your words didn’t match what was in your eyes.

“You haven’t been around the lake house much, though,” Quinn ventured, his voice calm but holding a trace of concern that you couldn’t miss.

You shifted slightly, the space between you both feeling thicker than it should. “I’ve just got a lot going on.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t the real reason, not by a long shot. “Really? Because Jack misses you. We all miss you.”

At that, he saw it—the brief flicker in your eyes. It was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. Hurt. Regret. Whatever it was, it made Quinn’s chest ache, his heartbeat a little heavier. There was something more to this than you were letting on, something that made him wonder if you even saw how much everyone else was hurting.

A long silence stretched out between you both, a quiet that felt like it would swallow him whole. The distance was painful. It had always been easy between you and him—friendly, easygoing. But this, this was something different. Something that Quinn didn’t know how to fix, but something he couldn’t leave unresolved either.

Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, Quinn. It just doesn’t feel the same anymore.”

The words cut through the air, sharp and heavy, and Quinn’s heart sank. He had always known you as part of the rhythm of the lake house, the one constant they could count on. And now, you were drifting away, and he had no idea how to pull you back in.

“What do you mean?” Quinn asked, trying to keep his voice steady. It wasn’t like you to avoid questions like this, to shy away from the truth.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, a flicker of pain passing over your features before you spoke again. “Everything’s changed. And I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Maybe it’s not about fixing it,” Quinn said, his voice gentle but firm. “Maybe you don’t need to fix anything. Just… come back. Come back to the lake house. We miss you.”

You shook your head slightly, stepping back from the door, as if you were trying to distance yourself from him, from everyone else. “I can’t. It’s too hard.”

Quinn’s stomach twisted with the weight of your words. It wasn’t just that you were avoiding the lake house—it was that you had withdrawn from everything. From everyone. And that scared him more than he let on.

“It’s not about being perfect,” Quinn said, his voice quiet now. “We’re all just… trying to figure things out.” He took a step closer, his eyes softening as he met your gaze. “We just need you to be there. We all do.”

You didn’t say anything for a long time, but Quinn could feel how your breath quickened, how the weight of what he was saying started to sink in.

“I don’t belong there anymore,” you murmured, your voice cracking on the last word.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, a sharp twist of realization. It wasn��t just about the lake house. It was about you, about how you had come to see yourself outside of all of them, outside of the family you’d once been a part of. And that hurt. It hurt more than he was prepared for.

“Of course, you belong there,” Quinn said, his voice breaking a little. “You always have.”

But you didn’t believe it, did you? Quinn could see it in your eyes—the sadness that seemed to swirl just below the surface, a darkness he couldn’t reach. He felt helpless in a way he never had before. He didn’t know how to make it right, how to bring you back to them.

“I miss you at the lake house,” he admitted, his voice softer now, raw with emotion. “We all do. Jack misses you. Luke misses you more than you know.”

Your chest tightened at that, the truth of his words cutting through your defenses. You knew Luke missed you. In fact, it was one of the hardest things to face—that the one person you didn’t know how to deal with, the one person you couldn’t bring yourself to confront, was the one who missed you most.

“Maybe,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, “but it doesn’t matter. Things are different now.”

Quinn studied you for a long time, his gaze intense and unwavering. You wanted to look away, to shut him out, but his eyes held you captive. You saw it then—the rawness, the vulnerability, the care that Quinn had never been one to show so openly.

“I know you think it’s different,” Quinn said quietly, “but you’re wrong. Things haven’t changed as much as you think. You’re still part of this family. You always will be.”

And in that moment, with those words hanging in the air between you both, you could feel something shifting. You didn’t know if it would be enough to bring you back to the lake house, back to them, but you could feel it in your bones: the connection, the love, the deep-rooted truth that no matter how far you pulled away, they would always be there, waiting.

The next few weeks were a blur. Jack kept calling, trying to bridge the gap, and you kept finding reasons to avoid his calls. Work. Homework. Other commitments. It never seemed to stop, and every time you answered with another excuse, the guilt only piled higher.

But Luke… you hadn’t seen Luke in weeks. And that absence? That ache in your chest that you just couldn’t explain when you thought about him? It was always there, quietly gnawing at you, reminding you of what you were running from.

Then, one afternoon, Jack showed up at your door.

His presence was like a weight, a storm that had been gathering, ready to break. Standing there, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, his usual easygoing demeanor was replaced by something quieter, more serious. The frustration in his eyes was unmistakable, and his voice, when he spoke, was softer than it had ever been.

“I don’t get it,” Jack said, his words hanging between you both. “What happened? Why are you pulling away?”

You swallowed hard, a lump rising in your throat. There was no easy way to answer, no simple excuse you could give to make it go away. “I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I just… need space.”

Jack’s expression softened, and though he didn’t say it, you could tell how deeply he felt the distance. “You don’t need to do this alone, you know? We’re all here for you.”

You nodded, but even the words felt hollow. “I know. I just… I’m not sure how to fit back in.”

Jack took a step forward, his gaze intense as it locked with yours. “Don’t shut us out. We’re your family.”

And just like that, the weight of it all hit you—the weight of the lake house, of Jack, of Luke. You couldn’t keep running away, not anymore. But you weren’t sure how to face the truth. The truth that Luke was still there, waiting, somewhere in the shadows, and the hardest part of it all was knowing that, maybe, you hadn’t been able to face him yet.

The air was beginning to shift as the first hints of fall whispered across the trees, rustling the leaves in the distance. It had been another summer of avoidance—weeks stretching into months, each one slipping by as you found more and more reasons to stay away from the lake house, from Jack, from Luke. The reasons weren’t as simple as school or work or family, but they were the excuses you told yourself to make it easier. To convince yourself that pulling away didn’t matter. But as you sat behind the wheel of your car, driving down the familiar road leading to the lake, you couldn’t deny the knot in your stomach.

You didn’t know how you’d gotten here, but you could feel the weight of it in your bones—the guilt, the emptiness. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt truly connected to any of it. To the people, to the place that had once been everything. It was as if, over the course of a summer, the distance between you and them had grown to a point where it felt too difficult to cross back.

You could see the lake house in the distance, the same wooden structure that had once felt like home, but now it was just a shadow of itself. Everything about it felt different, hollow in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

As you stepped out of your car and made your way down the familiar path that led to the dock, you wondered why you were here. You had avoided coming for so long—avoided the people, avoided Luke. And now, walking in the direction of the place you had always felt safest, you couldn’t help but feel like a stranger.

Your eyes scanned the area as you approached the dock, the soft sound of water lapping against the shore mixing with the gentle rustling of the trees in the breeze. It felt peaceful, serene even, but there was an ache in your chest you couldn’t ignore. A heaviness that made your steps feel uncertain, as if you weren’t quite sure you were supposed to be here.

And then you saw him.

Luke was sitting on the edge of the dock by the water, his back stiff, his hands resting on the wooden panels beneath him. He hadn’t noticed you yet, his gaze fixed out toward the horizon, where the golden light from the setting sun danced across the surface of the lake. His hat was pulled low over his face, casting a shadow that made his expression unreadable, but there was something about the stillness of his figure that made your chest tighten.

It was like time had paused in that moment. The world around you faded as you watched him, your eyes tracing the outline of his silhouette, the familiar shape of him that you hadn’t seen in weeks. There was a distance between you now, one that seemed to stretch out endlessly, a chasm that you had been too afraid to face.

You hadn’t meant to avoid him, not really. But with Jack and Alyssa together, everything had changed. And with every day that passed, the more it seemed impossible to go back to how it was before. You missed Luke. You missed the way he’d been there for you, the way he had always been in the background, supportive and understanding in a way that was easy to take for granted. And yet, when you thought about him, you always found yourself circling back to the same thought: It’s too late now.

The wind picked up, and the leaves in the trees swayed gently, their movement in rhythm with the pulse in your chest. You stood still for a long moment, just watching him, unsure of what to do next. The quiet between you felt suffocating, a reminder of the unspoken words that had been left unsaid for so long. You wanted to call out to him, to ask how he had been, to break the silence and bridge the gap that had been growing between you. But you stayed silent, not knowing what to say, what right you had to speak when you had stayed away for so long.

Then, as if sensing your presence, Luke shifted slightly. His body tensed for a moment before he turned, his eyes lifting slowly from the horizon to meet yours.

In that instant, everything in you seemed to stop. His gaze was heavy, intense, as if he had been waiting for this moment—waiting for you to come back. But there was something more in his eyes, something deeper. His expression was unreadable, but there was an undeniable pull in the way he looked at you, like he was seeing through all the walls you’d built up, all the excuses you’d made.

“Y/N,” Luke said quietly, his voice carrying across the distance between you. He didn’t stand up, didn’t move. He just stayed there, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been avoiding him for months.

You couldn’t find the words. You wanted to say something, anything to break the silence, but nothing came. Instead, you just took a step closer, stopping a few feet away from him. You both stared at each other for a long time, the quiet stretching out longer than either of you was comfortable with.

Finally, Luke broke the silence. “Why do you keep running away?” His voice wasn’t angry, but there was a rawness to it that you hadn’t expected.

You froze, the question hitting you harder than you thought it would. “I’m not running,” you said quickly, trying to sound calm, but even you could hear the lie in your voice.

“Yes, you are,” Luke replied, his words sharp now, like they had been building up for a long time. “From the lake house, from me.”

The words stung more than you wanted to admit. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You just stood there, unable to process what he had said, what he was implying. You felt something inside you snap, but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it.

“Luke, what are you talking about?” you finally asked, your voice coming out softer than you had intended.

Luke let out a sharp breath, like the weight of everything he had been holding in was finally too much. He stood up then, but didn’t come closer. Instead, he looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time in a long while, like he was waiting for you to really see him, to understand what he had been carrying.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, the words slipping out of his mouth like a confession he had been holding onto for years. “I’ve loved you since before I even knew what love was.”

The world around you seemed to stop. The trees, the water, even the air itself seemed to freeze in place, leaving you standing there, staring at him in stunned silence. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came.

Luke took a step closer, his voice growing quieter now, but more intense. “But you never saw me, did you? I was just Jack’s little brother to you. I was always just there. In the background. You never noticed me for anything else.”

His words hit you like a freight train, shattering everything you thought you knew about yourself, about him, about what had been right in front of you all along. You stood there, frozen, as if the world around you had suddenly slowed down. His confession wasn’t just a declaration—it was a breaking point, a revelation that you couldn’t escape. You had always thought you knew who Luke was, always thought you understood the quiet, steady presence he had been in your life. But you had been blind.

The memories flooded back all at once—those small, seemingly insignificant moments you had brushed aside without a second thought. The way Luke’s gaze would linger on you when you laughed, how he would stay behind after everyone else had gone home to help clean up, how his voice had always been a little softer, a little more patient whenever he spoke to you. The way he had stood in the background, never demanding anything from you, never asking for more, but always there. Always just a little too quiet, a little too distant, a little too kind for you to notice. And now, as the weight of what he had just said hung heavy in the air, you understood. All those moments weren’t coincidences. They had been his way of loving you without you ever realizing it.

You opened your mouth to speak, to process it all, but the words were stuck in your throat. I never knew. The thought echoed relentlessly in your mind, but you couldn’t say it aloud. You couldn’t bring yourself to voice the truth, not yet. It was too overwhelming, too raw, and yet, as much as you wanted to deny it, you felt the heavy sting of regret curling up from somewhere deep within you. You had missed it. You had missed him.

You took a small step forward, the movement feeling more like a leap into an unknown space, like walking on the edge of something fragile and delicate. Every part of you felt exposed, the rawness of the moment too intense for your usual walls to hold up. Your heart was hammering in your chest, each beat louder than the last, thumping in your ears as if to remind you how real this was.

Luke was still watching you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those familiar eyes—spoke everything. There was a softness in them now, a quiet vulnerability that you had never seen before. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look bitter. He didn’t look like he had been holding onto this for years just to lash out. No, instead, he was just standing there—quiet, patient, waiting. Waiting for you to see him. Waiting for you to finally look at him the way he had always looked at you.

You took another step closer, the words that had been building in your chest finally spilling out. “Luke…” Your voice trembled, barely a whisper, but it was enough for him to hear. Enough for the world to hear the weight of it all. “I never knew.”

There was no sudden shift in him—no dramatic reaction, no sigh of relief. He didn’t move. He didn’t take a step toward you or away from you. Instead, his expression softened even further, and for the first time in years, you saw Luke as he truly was—vulnerable, raw, and, in that moment, completely open to you. He wasn’t holding back anymore. He wasn’t hiding his feelings, wasn’t waiting for you to come to him. He had already given everything he could, and now it was up to you to decide what came next.

“I know,” he whispered back, his voice so soft that you almost couldn’t hear it over the pounding of your heart. It was a simple response, but it felt like it contained the weight of everything he had carried, everything he had hoped for. “But I needed you to.”

The words hung in the air, a delicate thread between you both, and you felt the weight of them settle in your chest. He needed you to see him. He needed you to stop running, to stop avoiding the truth that had always been there, hiding behind the easy smiles and the comfort of friendship. He needed you to finally understand that, all this time, he had been right there. Right in front of you. And you had missed him.

It wasn’t just about the lake house, or Jack, or the old memories of summers past. It was about you and Luke. About everything that had been unsaid, everything that had been quietly building up in the background while you had been so caught up in your own confusion, your own feelings for Jack. You had never allowed yourself to see what was standing right there in front of you—what had been waiting for you all along.

A sudden ache pierced through your chest, a mix of regret, guilt, and something else—something you couldn’t quite name. You had been running from him. You had been running from his love, from the possibility of something deeper, something real. And now, standing there, with him just a few feet away, you realized just how much you had lost by not seeing him sooner.

Luke was still standing there, waiting. He wasn’t pushing you, wasn’t asking for anything. He had already given you everything. His love. His time. His patience. He had been there for you in ways you hadn’t even understood until now. And for the first time, you felt the full weight of it.

You took a deep breath, the air around you thick with emotion, and you felt something shift inside you. You had been running for so long, but now, in this moment, you didn’t want to run anymore. You didn’t want to hide from the truth. You wanted to stop pretending that everything was fine, that you had everything figured out when, in reality, you had been avoiding the one thing that could make everything right.

The silence hung in the air, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t a chasm between you that needed to be filled with words, but a soft space of understanding, a quiet kind of anticipation. It was as though everything that had once been said, and everything that had been left unsaid, was coming together in this one moment. The weight of what Luke had shared with you, the rawness of his confession, it wasn’t a burden anymore—it was a bridge between you, and you could feel it stretching out before you.

You stood there, a few feet away, and your mind raced, scrambling to find a way to process what had just happened. But no matter how hard you tried to make sense of it, you kept coming back to one thing—Luke. Luke, standing there, his eyes soft, his expression vulnerable in a way you had never seen before. He was no longer just Jack’s younger brother. He was Luke—the boy who had been there for you in every way, without ever asking for anything in return.

It was almost as if, in that moment, you could feel the shift deep inside of you. Everything you had been running from, everything you had been hiding from, came rushing to the surface. You realized, with a sharp clarity, that you had been avoiding him, yes—but you had also been avoiding yourself. Avoiding the truth that had always been right in front of you.

And then, without thinking, without hesitating, you closed the space between you. One step. Then another. The sound of your heartbeat was the loudest thing you could hear, each beat reverberating in your chest, urging you closer. You had no plan, no idea what you were doing, but somehow, in that moment, you knew. You knew you had to stop running.

Your breath caught as you stopped just inches from him, the world narrowing down to the two of you. His presence seemed to envelop you, a warmth that you had once only felt in his friendship, but now… it felt different. It felt like it was pulling you in, like gravity itself had shifted, and the only place you could go was to him.

You raised your hand instinctively, your fingers brushing against his sleeve, and then, without saying a word, your lips met his.

It wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t the wild, impetuous kiss of a first love or an overwhelming rush of emotion. It was something softer, quieter—a hesitant question that had never been asked. You could feel the uncertainty between you both, as if neither of you was sure what this meant, but you both knew you needed it. You needed to close the gap, to answer the question that had hung between you for so long. It was a kiss that felt like the very beginning of something, not a culmination.

But then, as the seconds stretched, as the warmth of his lips against yours seemed to sink deeper into your skin, something shifted. The hesitation melted away. It was like the dam inside you had finally broken, letting all the emotions that had been bottled up for years flow out in one sweeping wave. The kiss deepened, soft and slow, but urgent now—as if you were both finally allowing yourselves to feel everything you had kept locked away. His hand gently cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get close enough. And you—your hands found their place on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. The rhythm matched your own, and it felt like you were syncing with him in a way that was more intimate than anything you had ever known.

In that moment, you felt like you were being seen—not just as the girl who loved Jack, but as yourself. As you—the person Luke had always seen and loved in his quiet, steady way, even when you had been blind to it. It wasn’t just the touch of his lips on yours. It was everything—his patience, his understanding, his willingness to wait for you to finally see him for who he truly was.

When you pulled away, your breath came in short, shaky bursts. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so exposed, so utterly vulnerable. But at the same time, it felt like everything had fallen into place. All the fear, all the doubt—it had evaporated in the warmth of the kiss, leaving only the quiet certainty that this, whatever this was, was real.

You rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling together as you both tried to catch your breath, to come back to reality. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed slightly, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening either. The two of you, standing there in the quiet of the evening, under the pale light of the setting sun, it felt surreal, but it was also exactly where you were meant to be.

Luke’s thumb brushed over your cheek, the motion tender and slow, like he was memorizing the feel of you beneath his touch. He opened his eyes then, looking at you with a depth that made your heart skip a beat. There was no anger in his gaze, no resentment for the years you had spent blind to him. There was only something softer—something more powerful. Something that told you he had always known you would come back to him, even if you didn’t know it yourself.

He let out a shaky breath, the words escaping him quietly, as if he were confessing something deeply private. “I’ve waited so long for you to see me like this. To see me for me.”

The weight of his words landed on you like a soft wave, gentle but impossible to ignore. You hadn’t seen him—not truly. Not until now. But now, in this moment, you could see everything. Every little piece of him that had been hidden in the quiet corners of your heart, waiting for you to wake up.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a second, savoring the feeling of being held, of finally being seen. His words echoed in your mind, and you felt an overwhelming ache in your chest, a deep sense of longing that had always been there but had been buried under years of hesitation, confusion, and missed opportunities.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking as the truth finally tumbled from your lips. “I didn’t know. I should’ve seen you. I should’ve been there. I didn’t…”

He shook his head softly, interrupting you with a quiet smile, the kind that made your heart ache with tenderness. “You’re here now,” he said, his voice full of warmth, of understanding, of everything he had been waiting for. “That’s all that matters.”

And in that moment, you realized that he was right. The past didn’t matter anymore. The things you had missed, the time you had wasted—it didn’t matter, because you were here now. Together.

You took a deep breath, pulling away slightly to look at him. The future was still uncertain—still unknown. But standing here, in the quiet, the world around you seemed to fade. The wind ruffling the trees, the soft murmur of the lake—it all became background noise, insignificant compared to the pull between the two of you.

And when you looked at Luke, you didn’t see Jack’s younger brother anymore. You didn’t see the boy who had been stuck in the shadows of his older brother’s life. You saw Luke—the boy who had always been there, waiting, loving, patient. And for the first time, you were able to see him for who he truly was.

And that was enough. That was more than enough.

The next summer at the lake house felt like a new chapter, a fresh breeze sweeping through the familiar spaces. The house, though unchanged in its appearance, felt different to you—like it had grown, expanded, become something more than it had ever been. The old rhythms were still there. Jack’s easy laugh echoed in the kitchen, Alyssa’s chatter floated through the air, and Quinn’s voice was a steady undercurrent, always with that knowing smile. But there was something new now. Something you couldn’t put into words, something that had shifted in the space between you and Luke, something that made the house feel like a home.

As you walked through the front door, your heart fluttered slightly in your chest, a mixture of excitement and nerves. The familiar scent of the lake, the wood of the house, and the salty air filled your senses. You had missed it all, but it felt different now. You had avoided this place for so long, spent so many months running from it, running from him. And now, standing here, you felt a mix of both vulnerability and relief. You knew what had changed—it was the way you saw Luke now, not just a background figure in your life. He was Luke. And he was everything you had needed and didn’t know you had been waiting for.

When you walked into the living room, your eyes immediately found him. Luke was standing by the window, his broad shoulders relaxed, and that warm smile of his lighting up his face. It was the same smile you had seen a thousand times, but now it felt like it was meant for you, and you couldn’t help but return it. His gaze flickered over to you, and his smile deepened—no longer the shy, almost hesitant grin you had seen before, but a confident, knowing one. He waved, his eyes playful, but there was no longer any hesitation between you. No more distance. No more of the quiet longing that had once been there. Just Luke. Just the two of you.

You found yourself walking toward him, almost instinctively, like you were following some unseen thread that had always been pulling you closer. As you approached, he reached for your hand, slipping his fingers into yours with an ease that felt completely natural. The touch felt right, as though the universe had always intended for you two to be this way.

Jack was sitting on the couch, his arm around Alyssa, and Quinn was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed but with a small, knowing smile on his face. It was as if Quinn could see something in you and Luke that no one else could, like he had been waiting for this moment for years. His smile was subtle, but there was a quiet pride in it, a quiet satisfaction. He knew what this meant. He had watched his younger brother love you from the sidelines, and now, as he looked at the way you and Luke stood together, there was a peace in his eyes. It was as if he had been holding his breath for so long, waiting for Luke’s feelings to be reciprocated, and now, finally, they were.

The evening passed like it always did, with laughter and familiar chatter filling the space. But there was a new dynamic now—one that everyone could feel. Jack, ever the easygoing older brother, noticed the subtle but undeniable shift between you and Luke. He didn’t say anything, but you could see it in his eyes when he caught your gaze—acknowledgment, understanding, and maybe even a little relief. Jack had never been the type to need to understand everything, but he could see what had always been there between you and Luke, and now, seeing the way Luke’s eyes lit up when he looked at you, seeing the way you seemed to belong by his side—it was clear. There was no need for words. The change had come, and it was undeniable.

When the evening wore on and the sun began to dip low over the lake, painting the sky in warm golden hues, you and Luke found yourselves outside. The air had cooled, the breeze soft and comforting, and you both gravitated to the old bench by the water. It was the same bench where so much had unfolded between you in the past, where you had first realized the depth of your feelings, where you had started to see Luke in a new light. It felt almost like fate that you would return here, as if this spot, this place by the water, was the point where everything had started to change.

Luke sat down first, his hand still holding yours, and you followed suit, settling beside him. His arm brushed against yours, and for a moment, the two of you just sat there, letting the quiet wash over you. The soft rustling of the trees, the gentle lapping of the water, the distant call of birds settling in for the night—it was all so familiar, yet now it felt new. The air between you and Luke was filled with an unspoken understanding, a peace that neither of you had ever experienced before. You didn’t need to say anything. You didn’t need to explain the emotions swirling between you, because you both felt them. You were here. Together. And that was enough.

Luke’s hand gently slid into yours, his fingers entwining with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. You looked over at him, your heart swelling as you realized how far you had come. The awkwardness, the uncertainty, the hesitation—they were all gone now, replaced with something deep and sure. You finally felt like you had arrived, not just at the lake house, but at a place where you could truly be yourself, where you could finally see Luke for who he was and love him the way he had always loved you.

The stars began to twinkle overhead, the sky darkening as the night crept in. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It was peaceful. And when you looked over at Luke, you saw him looking up at the sky too, a soft smile on his lips, the glow from the stars reflecting in his eyes.

“I never thought this would happen,” you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the peaceful sounds of the night. “I didn’t know I was running from the one thing that was right in front of me all along.”

Luke’s eyes met yours then, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re here now,” he said, his voice steady and full of warmth. “And that’s all that matters.”

The words were simple, but they held so much weight. You had been running, yes, but you had stopped now. And in stopping, you had found something more beautiful than you had ever imagined. You had found him. And that was enough.

As you sat there, side by side, under the stars, you realized that everything had come full circle. All the years of missed moments, all the moments of doubt and confusion—they were behind you now. You were finally here, with Luke, where you both belonged. And as the cool breeze ruffled your hair and the distant hum of the night surrounded you, you felt like the world was finally right again.

And from where you sat, you could see Quinn watching from the porch, that small but knowing smile still on his face, as if he knew this moment was a long time coming. Luke had always deserved this. And now, finally, he had it. He had you. And you had him.

In that moment, there was nothing left to do but lean into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beside you. The world might have been uncertain, but here, with him, you felt more certain than you ever had before. And you knew that, for once, you wouldn’t run anymore. You were right where you were meant to be.

[menagerofmischief]

nsfw alphabet -> ln4

main masterlist / navigation

nsfw alphabet (a-z)

lando norris x reader

a/n: another request from the request graveyard. I see you guys, I promise I'll try to get to all of them!

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Lando is a clinger! He doesn't really wanna move, preferring to stay down and cuddle, twisting his body into your own and staying cozy from your warmth. If he has to move he will, but best believe some part of his skin will be touching your at all times. He's also big on sharing baths together afterward with you leaning back into him.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

Boobs! He loves your boobs and if he could he would never take his hands off of them. Loves to cuddle with his hands up your shirt and just holding your boobs.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Has no preference whatsoever. He likes anything, filling you up, cumming in your mouth, on your stomach/ass/back/tits. He's down for all of it and will always let out a little groan as he takes in the sight.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

He gets hard watching you do domestic things around your shared apartment. You're leaning down to put dishes into the dishwasher, boner! Reaching into the washing machine to pull out a lost sock? Boner! Vacuuming the new rug? Boner!

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

He's pretty experienced and knows what he's doing. Uses his experience to drive you absolutely wild.

F= Favorite position

Doesn't really have a favorite but enjoys positions where he can grab your boobs easily. Loves cowgirl because your tits are bouncing in his face, it's his own personal slice of heaven.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

Sometimes when you're having soft/slower sex he'll randomly burst into giggles. Other than that he's pretty good at giving what the situation requires.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He keeps it pretty neat, trimmed all the way down but doesn't completely shave it off. If you had different preferences he'd be up to trying and when it comes to you he doesn't mind anything as long as you're comfortable.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

He can swing either way but I do think that he leans a bit forward to romantic and wanting you to experience every touch deeply and feel everything. However if it was a bad day, get ready because he can and will absolutely go rough.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Prefers you touching him rather than him touching himself but when you're not there or he's away, he'll be jacking off like a boy in puberty, always having your picture up on his phone or calling you to hear your voice.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Lives for your praise! Call him a good boy and he'll be a puddle on the floor. Also loves sucking on your nipples, whether it's during the intercourse or just cuddling with his mouth attached to your tit.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Absolutely up for getting down and dirty anywhere but loves to do it in your apartment. Any surface/room will do.

M= Motivation (what gets them going)

You! End of story. One look of you and oh, where did his pants go?

N= No (something they won't do)

I think he's pretty much down to trying anything you're interested into but wouldn't want to do anything that could seriously hurt you.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

He loves tasting you almost as much as he loves when you're sucking him off so his absolute favorite is 69, where he can get the best of both worlds. Absolutely knows what he's doing and would eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

P= Pace (do they prefer it slow or fast)

Pretty good at reading the mood and following what you want. Want it faster, he's pounding you into the mattress so fast your head is spinning. Prefer is slow, he'll make sure you feel every inch and drag.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer quickies or taking their time)

Prefers to take his time and go for multiple rounds, but if either of you is feeling needy he'll absolutely pull you into the first corner and go for a quickie.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

He's up for experimenting and is pretty much down to try anything at least once. The most important thing for him is that you're both feeling comfortable.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go)

He can go multiple rounds at a time. Give him a second to catch his breath and he's already hard and leaking again, aching to get back into you.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Has a whole drawer filled with all different sorts of toys and enjoys using them to bring you pleasure. Likes to keep a vibrator pressed to your clit while he fucks you or eats you out.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

He likes to tease but can't follow thought with it to the end because he has a weak spot for you and wants to give you all the love.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Absolute whore! Whines, moans, grunts, anything and everything. From making you beg, to him begging himself. Doesn't shut up.

W= Wild card (random headcannon of any sort)

After Hungary '24 he railed you against the wall of his driver's room that shared with Oscar's, making you scream his name in an attempt to annoy his teammate.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in those pants)

He's packing, we all know it. Did you see the ridiculous amount of photos where his bulge is shown? Pretty sure someone said he's made it onto a Twitter (catch me dead calling it X) page called 'famous bulges'

Y= Yearning (sex drive)

The meter broke from how high it went ;) He wants you, all the time, everywhere, no questions asked. Can go whenever you want, for as long as you want.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

Depends on the situation but I think yes, or at least moderately quick. Especially if you're staying right in bed and cuddling, he's dozing off quick and letting out soft snores (yes, I think he snores, sue me).

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

@errorunfound1

Yandere!neglectful!Batfam x mom!reader

Wayne Manor had always felt vast, but to you, it was more of a void than a home. It was easy to get lost in its endless hallways, in the constant hum of life orbiting Bruce’s nocturnal mission. You married him for love, despite knowing the weight of the life he led. You accepted his scars, his mission, his world. But what you hadn’t expected was how little space there would be left for you in it.

Bruce was always out, chasing shadows, leaving you to navigate a family that seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length. You poured your heart into them—Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian—but your efforts were met with indifference at best and disdain at worst. You had been a mother in every way that mattered, yet the coldness you received in return made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to act like you care,” Jason sneered once when you tried to patch him up after patrol. “We both know you’re just here for him.”

Tim barely acknowledged you unless it was necessary, his head buried in his work. Dick’s smiles, once genuine, now felt like politeness masking discomfort. And Damian, always the sharpest, had no qualms about cutting you down. “You’re not my mother,” he’d said, his words a dagger that twisted in your chest.

Bruce never intervened. When you tried to tell him, his responses were dismissive. “They’ll come around,” he’d say before disappearing into the night. But they never did.

So, you stayed quiet, swallowing the hurt, letting it fester.

One night, you stood in the empty dining room, staring at the cold, untouched dinner you’d prepared. The clock ticked on the wall, counting the hours Bruce was late. Again. You could hear the faint hum of voices from the Batcave below, the family gathered around him while you sat alone.

It wasn’t anger that bubbled up this time. It was resignation.

You left that night, not with a dramatic goodbye, but with a simple bag and a note left on the kitchen counter.

“I love you, but I can’t keep losing myself in a family that doesn’t want me.”

The days without you passed unnoticed at first. Bruce buried himself in his work, assuming you needed time to cool off. The Batkids carried on as usual, their lives too busy to miss the quiet presence you’d once provided.

It was Alfred who noticed first—the meals left uneaten, the flowers on the windowsill wilting. “Sir,” he said carefully one evening, “she’s not coming back.”

Bruce stopped mid-step, his expression flickering. “She just needs time.”

But days turned into weeks, and the absence became impossible to ignore. The manor felt colder, emptier. Jason snapped more often, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. Tim’s focus wavered, his mistakes piling up in a way they never had before. Damian trained harder, his strikes sharper, but there was a new tension in him, an unease he wouldn’t voice.

“She left us,” Damian said one night, his tone sharp but brittle. “That’s on her.”

“No,” Dick said quietly, guilt heavy in his voice. “It’s on us.”

Bruce found you three weeks later, living in a modest apartment far from the grandeur of Wayne Manor. The door was locked, but that had never been an obstacle for him. He let himself in, his imposing frame filling the doorway as you stood frozen in the kitchen.

“Bruce,” you said, your voice tight.

“Come home.” His tone was soft but firm, the same voice he used to give orders in the field.

Your laugh was bitter, hollow. “Home? That place hasn’t felt like home in years.”

His jaw tightened, the only sign of his frustration. “You belong there. With me. With them.”

“I belonged there once,” you said, your voice breaking. “But I spent years trying to love a family that couldn’t love me back. Do you even realize how much it hurt, Bruce? To be invisible in my own home?”

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “I didn’t see it. I should have. But I’m here now.”

“Too late,” you whispered, tears spilling over.

But Bruce Wayne was not a man who gave up easily. His hand reached out, brushing against yours. “You think I’ll let you go that easily?” His voice dropped, a dangerous edge slipping into his tone. “You’re mine. You always have been.”

You pulled away, shaking your head. “You don’t love me, Bruce. You love control. You love having someone waiting for you. But I won’t be that person anymore.”

The silence between you was heavy, suffocating. His eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go. But Bruce was nothing if not persistent.

“You’re coming home,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding.

Before you could respond, his hand shot forward, pressing a syringe into your arm. The sharp sting was followed by a wave of dizziness, and your legs buckled.

“Bruce,” you gasped, your vision swimming as he caught you.

“It’s for your own good,” he murmured, his arms cradling you as darkness pulled you under.

(A/n: this is why I don't take money 😅 writing shi asf 😔🔥 chat did I cook or am I cooked?)

[vunblr]

Masterlist

Thanks for stopping by! Enjoy the journey through these stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

The Weight of Choices (Slight angst. Smut.) Oneshot.

Summary: Torn between his instinct to protect his family and his desire to be a part of their lives, Bucky tries to deal with the reality of his ex-wife going on a date while he stays home caring for their son.

An Unfinished Goodbye (Slight Angst. Side-story of The Weight of Choices.) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky tells himself he’s only watching over his ex-wife and son for their safety. But when someone threatens to alter the status quo, his quiet vigilance falters.

What If?... (Fluff. Smut) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky navigates his insecurities and guilt from his past as he grows closer to his new neighbor, a nurse.

The Memory Remains (Fluff. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: An unexpected encounter brings Bucky face-to-face with someone from his past, stirring memories he thought were long buried.

Wounds and Walls (Slight angst. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky starts to walk into his new civilian life but struggles with his painful past, while slowly building a connection with someone who sees through his walls. As the relationship deepens, he must decide if he’s ready for something more, or if he’ll hide and push it all away.

Crumbs of Connection (Fluff.) Oneshot

Summary: When Bucky wanders into a quirky late-night bakery, he doesn’t expect the warmhearted owner to challenge his defenses.

Spells and Fangs (World of Warcraft AU) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky, a grumpy worgen warrior, and his sharp-tongued mage partner are sent on a relatively simple quest that quickly spirals into chaos.

Roots and Branches (Fluff. Smut. Lumberjack AU)

Summary: Bucky has built a quiet life in the woods, content to keep the world at arm's length. But when a new neighbor moves to town, her presence ignites emotions he’s hesitant to face.

A Heart in Hiding (Angst-Hurt/Comfort) Oneshot

Summary: Caught between the shadows of his past and an unexpected connection, Bucky wrestles with his demons and his growing feelings for a new Avenger.

To Mend a Soldier (Slight angst. Comfort. Fluff.) Oneshot

Summary: Pressed by a worried Sam, Bucky reluctantly agrees to try an alternative -and, if you ask him, weird- therapy program: rent-a-mom. What starts as an obligation soon turns into something far more meaningful than he ever expected.

Toy Soldier (Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Smut) Ended.

Summary: She had been the tool Hydra used to keep him operational; he, the weapon manipulated by their tendrils to execute their ambitions. Years after breaking free, fate Sam Wilson brings them together once more. Now, they must navigate the challenges of forging a connection beyond the twisted dynamic that once bound them in the past.

The Broken Waltz (Angst. Hurt. Sprinkles of comfort. Dark content.) Toy Soldier's Side-story. Oneshot

Fifteen Minutes (Angst. Hurt. Sprinkles of comfort. Dark content.)

Toy Soldier's Side-story. Oneshot

Summary: Before freedom, before choice, there was only function. A tool and a weapon, bound in a dance orchestrated by Hydra’s cruel hands. The tool was meant to mend, the weapon to destroy. That night, the tool got to witness the weapon's other purposes.

The Price of Silence (Blue-collar Bucky) Ongoing

Summary: Porn with a little plot. Cynical and disenchanted with the world Bucky finds a job at a construction site after the blip. Tasked with retrieving lunch from a local bakery, he never expects to fall into a fuck-buddies situation with the clerk.

A Hand in the Dark (Angst. Hurt/Comfort.) Ongoing

Summary: In a brief moment of lucidity, Soldat makes a choice. And some choices echo across time, shaping the future in ways no one could predict.

Foundations (Slight Angst. Fluff) Ended

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Plump & Ripe (Fluff. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: On a routine visit to the fruit shop, Bucky ends up with more than his usual goodies.

Lush (Fluff. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: After Bucky is reminded by an offending shirt that his body isn't what it used to be, Sugarplum finds just the right way to get him out of his head.

Terms of Attraction (Fluff. Slight Comfort. Sexual Tension.) Oneshot

Summary: Long hours, sharp tongues, and unbreakable trust have defined Industrial Inputs CEO Bucky Barnes and his secretary’s dynamic, always walking a fine line. But some lines aren’t meant to be left uncrossed.

Tangled (Merman! Bucky. Fluff. Slight Angst. Teratophilia.) Ended

Summary: Between fear and fascination, a solitary creature struggles to protect his hidden world -and himself- after an unexpected encounter with a curious human woman makes him question everything he thought he knew about trust, danger, and boundaries.

Built to Last (Fluff) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky took up carpentry to keep himself busy, but didn't expect a hardware clerk to make him want more.

A Star Without a Sky (Slight Angst. Comfort. Fluff. Smut) Ongoing

Summary: A wounded Sheriff Barnes seeks shelter in a young widow’s home, and finds himself wrapped in a warmth he no longer believes he deserves, and longing for something he thought long buried.

Behind Closed Doors (Slight angst. Mommy Kink) Oneshot

Summary: Most days, Bucky is a functional, dependable, and even deadly man. Others, when the noise in his head gets too loud, behind closed doors, he becomes Jamie.

The Trouble With Saturdays (Fluff) Oneshot

Summary: Life at the Thunderbolts Tower is loud, chaotic, and full of questionable moral choices. Bucky’s used to keeping to himself, until one night, after one of those questionable moral choices was made, the guys got him high.

Spasibo (Smut) Oneshot

Summary: She offered kindness where there should’ve been fear. Now it haunts her in silence, starved for warmth it can’t forget.

EVENTS MASTERLISTS

AA Bucky's 108th birthday Bingo

AA Kinky Bingo

Chains of Fate (Fluff. Smut.) Destroyer!Chris. Oneshot

Summary: A florist keeps having trouble with her bicycle, and Chris, her rugged mechanic neighbor, is always available to help. Or isn’t he?

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[astrolook]

🔬HOUSE PLACEMENTS IN SIGNS OBSERVATIONS 🔬

Note : These are all my personal observations and patterns I've seen over the years and based on western astrology. Take what resonates and leave the rest. One placement isn't enough to predict and should look at the whole chart to analyze what's in there. Lemme know in the comments whether it hits home or not!

1st house placements in fire signs loves the spotlight or at least love taking selfies and posting it on social media. If in earth signs, looks in the mirror frequently to make sure they look good when crying and takes mirror selfies. If in air signs, their style changes everyday and in some cases, loves to color their hair especially if they have moon in 7th, 9th or 11th houses. If in water signs, has this " cry now, think later" energy or " I'm fine" energy even if they're not.

2nd house placements in fire signs are prone to impulsive buys and spend recklessly. If in earth signs, affordable shopping or hoard things like there's no tmrw. If in water signs, holds onto things and get emotionally attached to stuffs like that's my grandma's watch or this recipe is from my great grandma from world war 2. If in air signs, cheap buys and looks for discounts, thrift stores, spends too much on something and then live on pennies for the next whole month.

3rd house placements if in fire signs, can jump to conclusions or interrupt without realizing it. If in earth signs, waits for their turn to speak which never comes if in retrograde motion, could be too blunt and brutal with their words and insult you wrapped up as a compliment. If in air signs, convos are all over the place and ends Convo abruptly and moves on to next and struggle with articulating words if in retrograde as mind processes 120 words and in 5 topics at once, they end up with speaking 20 words. If in water signs, overshares and take things personally even when others meant in a general way.

4th house placements if in fire signs, stubs their toe constantly or just prone to little/major accidents at home. If in earth signs, black sheep of the family, might seem too distant or emotionally closed off, selective affection. Constipated at times. If in water signs, can't let go of toxic people around them and pretends they're happy even though they're not. If in air signs, selective communication, gossips within family, argues sometimes and reconcile with the other person like nothing happened. Also forget things quickly like where is my key?

5th house placements if in fire signs, defensive and loves riding a bike to watch the sunrise or such. Short-tempered and into games. If in earth signs, stingy when it comes to spend for others they don't wanna spend money on. Classic "I have nothing to wear" energy. Loves desserts and likes to try new restaurants/dishes. If in air signs, smart and would navigate their way out of trouble. Doesn't like relatives showing up. Watches bad movies knowing it's bad like The Room or Neil Breen movies. The kind to spread a rumor for fun. If in water signs, never asks their crush out and daydreams about their crush like having kids and dying of old age together. Bathroom/Kitchen singer like sings while doing household chores. OCD in some cases.

6th house placements if in fire signs, watches at least 5 shorts/reels a day. Doomscrolls their feed. Watches cooking tutorial or natural skin care remedies. If in earth signs, has a schedule for when to clean and when to run errands and expects their kids to follow/help. Learns new hobbies later in life like in their 40's. Prefers a clean kitchen. If in water signs, breaks things accidentally and spills coffee or other drinks often. Religiously drinks coffee or at least into green tea and such. Into collecting things they like such as pokemon cards, art collections and such. If in air signs, they are their worst enemy and comes up with worst scenarios in their head which never happens in reality. Talks and smiles to self like if someone seen them smiling, talking to themselves, would be seen as a crazy or a weirdo. Inner voice is their best friend. Unemployed/underpaid in some cases.

7th house placements if in fire signs, has this "world is your oyster" vibe and grass is always greener on the other side for them. Has Plan B. If in earth signs, multitaskers. When comes to love, juggles between two people and also loves architectural designs like interior designs and all(eg: Pinterest and Zillow). If in water signs, never satisfied with things or people. Either a drunk or the sober friend. Also a hopeless romantic. If in air signs, struggles with decision making. Migraines and hate loud noises or loud people. If single, in a relationship with their bed.

8th house placements if in fire signs, sexual tension or sexual conquest. Loves the chase and an ego boost and defensive in relationships. One-night stands/flings. If in earth signs, picky with whom they let in. Asexual in rare cases. Transactional relationships or relationships based on sex rather than any real love in some cases. If in water signs, one-sided sexual attraction, BDSM and such. Fantasizes about their interest sexually and watches p*rn to get off. If in air signs, into hard-core p*rn fantasies, abused/cheated on in relationships, sex when travelling, aquaphobia if moon is placed, quickly jumps from one interest to another. LGBTQIA+ in some cases.

9th house placements if in fire signs, smells BS from a mile away. Likes k-pop or other culture movies/songs than their own. Would leave everything behind to pursue their passion and start from scratch. Into animal rescues and like action movies. If in air signs, prefers an apartment/penthouse/condo than a home in the suburbs. Loves to attend concerts, rallies, festival events and all. Not a homebody or gets depressed if stayed home for longer periods of time. Likes stand-up comedy. Watches true crime. If in water signs, loves to travel via water or at least swim in lakes or rivers in the weekend. Fishing/sea food in some cases. Potential to become a chef/ just food business or simply eat at buffets. If in earth signs, watches home building tutorials/DIY construction kits. Loves snow/rain. Spends at least an hour/day on shopping apps or might even sell stuffs online. Could be into vintage/futuristic fashion and buys gadgets/antiques. Into old model cars/scifi cars in some cases.

10th house placements if in fire signs, have a start-up founder like passion and energy. Moves away for career. Has Plan B,C,D like an accountant in the morning and comedian in the evening. Career change might happen later in life to follow passion. If in earth signs, two or more sources of income is possible. Strategist and an "insider". Knows things most of us don't have access to or not known by public. Sometimes becomes a stay-at-home parent after kids enter the picture and willingly takes a backseat in their career. If in water signs, values connections which sometimes gets romantic. Co-workers/colleagues are like family. Fakes their smile or acts friendly to people they don't like but do so to avoid being called rude. If in air signs, trusts people blindly sometimes, gets betrayed by people they knew well, unemployed/underpaid in some cases.

11th house placements if in fire signs, debates in the comment section, struggles to stand out from crowd/find their community or niche, feels lonely even when surrounded by people. One man army. If in earth signs, feels too old for trends like a grandma/grandpa to tech or live in the 2050s. Struggles to be heard in groups or spends time and money on people as what others think of them matters. If in water signs, talks to strangers online looking for love and connection. Long-distance relationships which might or might not develop further. Spends on celebrity products/merch in some cases. If in air signs, send pics to strangers online or an active OF account in some cases. Could get blackmailed/hacked in some cases. Probably has a troll account.

12th house placements if in fire signs, feels like the side character in their own life. Fire on the inside, calm and composed on the outside. If they do succeed in life, people around them won't even believe they can do great things. Hides their true self. If in earth signs, clean and tidy when happy, poor hygiene and unkempt hair/nails if depressed. Skin and food allergies. Body image issues/self-harm tendencies. If in water signs, falls for unavailable people, hypochondriacs, diabetes/blood pressure issues later in life in some cases. Dehydration/over-indulgence. Cries under the sheets or in the shower. If in air signs, might develop su*cidal thoughts/self-destructive tendencies, stalk exes online or gets stalked. Hides their true opinion on things and says what's acceptable in the society. Writes under a pen name. When 12th house placements move far away from native, they usually get seen/recognized by people there and loved more.

Wanna go deeper into the layers of your placements? DM me for a complete astrology reading or a 5 year/8 year marriage report🌙💬 and check out my pinned post for pricing + details 💫💸

Let’s decode your cosmic chaos together ⭐

[kikidoul]

── DESIRE UNLEASHED

₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ FROM HYE: this will take a long time as this is a huge project for me so your utmost patience is heavily appreciated. i'm planning to only write for the hyung line but it depends on the feedback i get for this. i'm super excited for this so hope you guys will like it ^^

PARK SUNGHOON: THE MEMORY THAT BLEEDS.

𓍯 synopsis: "He was the love she couldn't kill. Now, he's the monster who doesn't remember her." Years ago, you let Sunghoon live—despite knowing he had become the very thing you were trained to destroy. When he resurfaced as a powerful vampire with no memory of your past, you're forced to face him again... but this time, as strangers on opposite sides of the battlefield. As old feelings stir and dangerous secrets unravel, you must decide: will you protect the man you once loved or end the vampire he's become?

pairing: vampire! sunghoon x vampire hunter! reader.

content: ex-lovers to strangers, sad ending, smut, inaccurate vampire lore, blood drinking, violence, major character death.

out now! (11th may 2025).

LEE HEESEUNG: LATE BITES & LIBRARY NIGHTS.

𓍯 synopsis: You find comfort in the quiet of the campus library after dark, but you’re not the only night owl. Heeseung—mysterious, effortlessly charming, and always tucked away in the same corner—seems to be there every night. What you don’t know is that he’s a vampire who feeds on energy, and yours feels different. He keeps coming back for it, but maybe—just maybe—it’s not just your energy he’s drawn to.

pairing: vampire! heeseung x human! reader.

content: university au, strangers to lovers (implied), inaccurate vampire lore, smut, resolved sexual tension, blood drinking, dom! heeseung, pussy eating, face-sitting, fingering, usage of petnames, spitting.

out now! (17th may 2025)

PARK JONGSEONG: DEADLINE: IMMORTALITY.

𓍯 synopsis: You’re a sickly office worker with little hope for the future until Jay, your enigmatic supervisor, saves you from a fatal accident—by turning you into a vampire. Now, with immortality thrust upon you, you must navigate this new life while grappling with your growing feelings for Jay, the man who’s both your savior and the mystery you can’t quite figure out.

pairing: vampire! jay x newly turned vampire! reader.

content: smut, office au, co-workers to lovers, slice of life, attempt at comedy, blood drinking, inaccurate vampire lore (will edit).

to be released soon. . .

SIM JAEYUN: THE VAMPIRE NEXT DOOR.

𓍯 synopsis: Jake, your childhood best friend, moves back into the house next door but this time, he’s a vampire trying to live a normal life. As you help him adjust to life as a "regular" person, old feelings start to resurface, and you can't help but notice how charming (and a little bit dangerous) your quirky, immortal neighbor has become.

pairing: vampire! jake x human! reader.

content: childhood friends to lovers, smut, sweet romance, attempt at comedy, jake's trying his best (believe), tooth-rotting fluff, inaccurate vampire lore, blood drinking (will edit).

to be released soon. . .

taglist: (either comment on this post or send an ask off-anonymous if you wished to be tagged for these works): @byshens, @yourislandgirl, @cutehoons02, @byshens, @nugwon, @blooqz, @elairah, @sofiafromvenus, @mi-nyeo, @m1kkso, @dreamiestay, @baedreamverse, @hoonstqr, @rustymoons, @cripplinghooman, @in-somnias-world, @firstclassjaylee, @starfallia, @isagistar (only for heeseung), @kryllea, @chaewonmyheartt, @iamliacamila, @semi-wife (only for sunghoon), @fancypeacepersona, @ilovhoonie, @woniescheeks, @jungwonswife4life, @ikeugirly, @jakessrealwife

[obsessiveandutterlydelusional]

Quiet as worship.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Summary:

You and Wanda have spent the last year walking the tightrope between secrecy and devotion—navigating judgment, age gaps, and quiet mornings that feel more sacred than any spotlight. To the world, you're just two successful women in different stages of life. But behind closed doors, you're something far more intimate. When you return home during one of Wanda's livestreamed interviews, the quiet ache to be close becomes impossible to resist. And under the desk—where no one can see—you remind her exactly who she belongs to, even when the camera’s still rolling.

A story of stolen moments, soft worship, and the kind of love that doesn’t need an audience to feel real.

TW: NFSW, oral sex (w!receiving), fingering (w!receiving), age gap relationship (legal, duh), secretish relationship, praise & worship kink (implied), power dynamics, dom!wanda, sub!reader, established relationship, fem!reader, public sex?(concealed), A/U!Celebrities, MDI.

Word Count: around 1k (it's a short one)

A/N: honestly, i've never really written anything before, (unless you count making "fanfics" on youtube when i was like 13.) i've been obsessd with elizabeth olsen lately, and really just wanted to write something short for wanda. i don't expect this to really blow up or anything but thought i'd share and may write more fics if this gets any attention. feel free to comment your thoughts or critiques, i also barely know how to navigate anything on tumblr when it comes to posting so if you have any tips for that, greatly appreciated. enjoy! :)

You and Wanda had been navigating the blurred line between secrecy and intimacy for nearly a year. It wasn’t a tabloid-worthy secret—not exactly—not to those who mattered. Your families knew. So did your closest friends. But the rest of the world? The fans, the press, the ever-watchful industry eyes? They didn’t know. Not yet.

You both guarded it tightly, like something too rare and beautiful to survive under public scrutiny.

And truthfully, it wasn’t the kind of love story you could explain easily.

You were 21—young, ambitious, a rising force in music with a voice that turned heads. Acting had become your latest frontier, a new stage to conquer. Wanda was 30—powerful, poised, and captivating in ways that made people go silent mid-sentence. She’d lived through storms, carried shadows she rarely spoke of, and moved through the world with a calm intensity that demanded respect.

And that nine-year gap between you? It made people talk. Judge. Assume.

Her friends whispered their theories—maybe she was chasing youth, maybe it was a passing indulgence. Your family masked concern with logic, lacing their doubt with patronizing smiles. Too young. Too complicated. As if love bowed to reason.

But none of it mattered. Not anymore.

Because it worked.

The late nights. The quiet mornings. The language spoken in glances and silences. It bloomed into something undeniable. And after nearly a year of proving the world wrong, even the skeptics had started to soften. They saw it now—the connection, the depth, the truth.

A month ago, you moved in—into her secluded home nestled in the hills above L.A., wrapped in silence and red-hued sunsets that lasted just a little longer when she was beside you. It felt seamless. Like gravity.

Today had been ordinary, in the kind of way that only shared lives could make beautiful. You’d spent the morning in the studio, lost in harmonies and half-written lyrics. Wanda had stayed home, preparing for a livestreamed interview for a film she’d done more as a favor than anything else.

Before the call began, she left you a voice note—low, calm, clipped in that no-nonsense way she got when she was focused.

“I’ll be live when you get back. Mic and camera on. Be good for me, okay?”

There was a softness beneath the command, and you’d smiled at the sound of it.

You got home quietly, careful with your keys and the sound of the door, trying not to disturb her. But curiosity had a gravity all its own. You told yourself you just wanted to see her.

Drifting down the hall, you paused at the half-open door of her office. Warm light poured out, casting long golden shadows. And there she was.

Wanda sat like she owned the space—back straight, voice smooth, answering questions with calm poise and piercing intelligence. Her hair, back to its deep auburn, framed her face in soft waves, new bangs brushing her brows and easing the sharpness of her features. She wore a loose black pantsuit—elegant and commanding, clinging to her in ways that made your pulse stutter. She didn’t have to try. She just was.

And you stood there, breath caught in your throat.

She hadn’t noticed you. Her eyes were on the screen. But yours? They were only on her. The curve of her mouth, the angle of her jaw, the way her fingers moved lightly across the desk—it all drew you in. Unintended seduction. Unintended, and yet devastating.

Your body responded before your mind could argue. Quietly, you stepped inside. No grand plan—just a hunger to be close. You dropped to your knees, heart hammering, and crawled beneath the desk. Her mic was angled high, her camera facing away from the lower half. She wouldn’t be visible from this angle. Neither would you.

It wasn’t about teasing. It wasn’t about interruption. You just needed to be near her.

Face to face with her knees, you reached out, fingers ghosting over her ankles and slipping under the fabric of her pants to stroke the warm skin of her calves.

Wanda didn’t flinch. Didn’t skip a beat. But a subtle smile ghosted her lips—so faint it might’ve gone unnoticed.

‘I knew you’d find your way under my desk.’

Her thighs shifted, parting slightly, creating space for you. Space you moved into with reverent ease. You rested your head on her inner thigh, looking up through your lashes, just watching her speak—captivated. Worshipful.

Your hands trailed up, fingers pressing softly into the fabric of her slacks, drawing lazy circles on her skin beneath.

And Wanda responded in the quietest of ways.

A shift in her chair. A hand sliding down, curling beneath the desk to cradle your jaw. Another tangling into your hair, fingertips gripping gently. Guiding. Not forcing. Just showing you what she wanted.

Your cheeks burned under her touch, the intimacy of it pulling a shiver through you. You hadn’t expected this—thought maybe she’d hush you away with a glance. But Wanda rarely did what people expected.

Hands shaking just slightly, you moved to the waistband of her pants, undoing the button with deliberate slowness. Her hips lifted, offering permission, as she kept speaking to the screen with barely a hitch.

“So you could say the character’s inner struggle is something many of us can relate to…”

Her voice stayed calm, even as you slid the zipper down.

You pulled her pants and underwear just low enough, breath catching at the sight of her—already wet, already wanting. She was flushed, beautiful, and utterly composed.

Leaning in, you pressed soft kisses to her inner thighs, rewarded with the quietest sigh. A gentle tug at your hair—impatient.

You obeyed.

Your mouth found her center, tongue teasing a long stripe through her slit, savoring the taste of her. She shifted, hips rolling forward, breath catching as you sucked lightly on her clit.

“Mm… the theme of self-discovery was important to explore…”

A subtle breathiness laced her tone, barely there but so present to you.

The wet sounds of your mouth were louder now, shame and desire twisted together in your chest as you tried to stay quiet. Your fingers joined the rhythm, slipping into her slowly, curling up to find that one perfect spot.

She gripped the chair arm harder.

“It’s about… facing your fears. Finding courage to be who you truly are…”

You looked up at her—sweat at her brow, jaw clenched, chest rising with uneven breaths. She glanced down, and her green eyes met yours—dark, desperate, hungry.

She was close. So close.

“This film really shows the power of… of collaboration…”

Her thighs trembled around your head, clamping tighter. Her hands clenched, one still buried in your hair. She was trying so hard to hold it together.

“And—ah—it’s been an honor to work with such an incredibly talented ensemble…”

Her voice broke for a fraction of a second.

You knew that sound. That edge. She was there.

“Thank you for having me,” she said quickly, managing a final smile for the camera. “It’s been a pleasure.”

She ended the stream in one swift motion—shutting the laptop before anyone could respond.

In a blur, she pushed her chair back, pulling you from under the desk and onto her lap with startling strength.

Her lips grazed your ear. Her voice was low, dark, commanding.

“Naughty girl. You just couldn’t wait, could you?”

A shiver licked up your spine.

“You know this isn’t going unpunished.”

And you knew. God, you knew. But you didn’t care. As long as it was Wanda... You’d take anything she gave.

[circuloearth]

Hetalia Masterpost

Anime Episodes

Hetalia Episode Links (google doc) here Hetalia List (google doc) here Hetalia episodes + EP Guide (google doc) here

Comics

Hetalia World Stars 1. Shonenjumpplus (JPN) here All Hetalia Comics 1. Hetarchive.net (ENG trans.) here 2. hetascanlations.tumblr (ENG trans.) here 3. Internet Archive (Eng trans.) - [APH Original Webcomic] here 4. Internet Archive Eng trans.) - [APH Issue 1] here 5. Internet Archive (ENG trans.) - [APH Vol.2] here 6. Internet Archive (Eng trans.) - [HWS] here

Musicals

Hetalia - Singin' in the World [1st musical, performed in 2015] 1. Veoh (english subs) here 2. bilibili (upload 1) here 3. bilibili (upload 2) here 4. Tumblr (subtitle file only) here Hetalia - The Great World [2nd musical, performed in 2016] 1. Veoh (english subs) here 2. bilibili here 3. Tumblr ( subtitle file only) here Hetalia - In the New World [3rd musical, performed in 2017] * 1. bilibili here Hetalia Final Live - A World in the Universe [4th musical, performed in 2018] * 1. bilibil (live in Osaka version) here 2. bilibili (live in Makuhari verison) here Hetalia - The World is Wonderful [5th musical, performed in 2021] 1. bilibili here 2. Youtube (upload 1) here 3. Youtube (upload 2 - HQ & unlisted) here Hetalia - The Fantastic World [6th musical, performed in 2023] 1. U-Next (Japanese streaming site) here * 2. MEGA (video and ENG sub file) here + here Hetalia - The Glorious World [7th musical, performed in 2024] 1. MEGA (video and ENG sub file) here + here Hetalia - A Tender World [8th musical, performed in 2025] 1. TBA (live performances start 06/2025) All Hetalia Musicals 1. MEGA (musicals 1-4) here * 2. MEGA (musicals 1-7) here [credit: italy1stan] 3. Internet Archive (musicals 1-4) here

Drama CDs

Hetalia Drama CD 1- Track 4- Lithuania Works Away from Home 1. Dailymotion (english subbed) here

Games

Gakuen Hetalia (unfinished demo project for PC) [released 2007] 1. Mediafire (JPN) here * Gakuen Hetalia Portable (PSP) [released 2011] 1. EmulatorGames (Eng.) here 2. romspure.cc (JPN) here Gakuen Hetalia DS (Nintendo DS) [released 2012] 1.Romsfun (JPN) here 2.wowroms (JPN) here Other- Game Emulators 1. PPSSPP (PSP emulator) here 2. desmume (Nintendo DS emulator) here

Anime OSTs

1. TBA

Fandom Creations/Stuff

** PLEASE READ THE DESCRIPTIONS OF THE YOUTUBE PLAYLISTS LINKED BELOW FIRST (LOCATED ON LEFT SIDE IF ON DESKTOP) ** 1. Hetalia Cosplay Panels (yt playlist) here 2. Hetalia Cosplay Panels *Incomplete/Shorts* (yt playlist) here 3. Hetalia Skits (yt playlist) here 4. Hetalia Gatherings (yt playlist) here 5. Hetalia Fan Animations (yt playlist) here 6. Hetalia MMDs (yt playlist) here 7. Hetalia CMVs (yt playlist) here 8. Hetalia AMVs (yt playlist) here

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

**NOTES** ( PLEASE READ)

Please DO NOT play mega videos directly on the site or else they will be removed, just download them !!!

There are two versions of Hetalia - In the New World: One performed in Osaka and the other in Tokyo University.

There are also two versions of Hetalia Final Live - A World in the Universe: one performed in Osaka and the other in Makuhari.

The Japanese streaming site U-Next probably needs a VPN and a paid (?) account to stream musicals.

For the site bilibili, if you have trouble using it on your browser you can download the app and then try to open it from there. You can turn off the text zooming across the video by clicking on the first TV icon on the bottom of the video player.

Remember, Google translate is your friend if you can't navigate any of the sites. I don't know Japanese or Chinese so unfortunately I won't be of any help navigating some of these sites.

This is all for educational purposes only!

**THIS LIST WILL BE UPDATED CONTINUOUSLY**

** So please consider reblogging from the source instead and/or look at the replies to see any update news! **

Please feel free to message me if there are any mistakes in the info provided or have working links to some material. Thank You.

[goldfades]

DAYLIGHT! | JOE BURROW⁹

ev's notes: everything will be under the first tag on this post -> ( daylight | joe x kelce!reader ). feel free to send in asks in my inbox, your thoughts are always the reason why series are so fun!!!

⟢ ┈ summary | the youngest kelce has always been somewhat an enigma.

growing up in the shadow of two of the nfl’s biggest personalities, she’s always managed to keep a lower profile, content to let jason and travis soak up the spotlight while she carved out a quieter existence. sure, she’s been spotted at games, made appearances on new heights, and endured the occasional media curiosity that comes with being a kelce—but for the most part, she’s kept her world private. not by accident, either. she’s built a life outside of football, outside of the noise, and she’s been just fine staying in her lane.

until joe burrow happened.

joe has always been a little different from the rest of the league—sharp, calculated, the definition of cool without ever having to try. he’s got that rare ability to command a room without raising his voice, to keep the world at arm’s length while still making everyone want to know more. his private life? practically untouchable. he’s never been one for high-profile romances, never the guy caught slipping up or getting messy in the media.

which is why when the rumors start—quiet at first, then deafening—it doesn’t feel real. the youngest kelce and joe burrow? people don’t know what to do with that information. because on the surface, it doesn’t make sense. she’s spent her whole life avoiding the spotlight. he lives under it.

and suddenly, the girl who never wanted the attention is at the center of everything.

⟢ ┈ playlist

here are the fics i posted before making this an official series: hard launch, first kiss

fics

chapter one | the youngest kelce has spent her whole life navigating the chaos of her famous last name, always lingering in the background while her brothers took center stage. but when travis falls for taylor swift, she suddenly finds herself feeling like a third wheel in her own family. and after your heartbreak with an nba player, you never thought you'd find love again.

chapter two | after running into your ex, you and kylie have some reflection time. joe realizes that his hook-ups aren't fulfilling, but ja'marr reminds him of who he really is underneath all the hurt.

chapter three | you try to move on from a past relationship finds yourself caught between a safe relationship with a new football player and a magnetic attraction to joe burrow. kylie tries to guide you towards stable relationships but you struggle with the lack of passion and excitement in your current romance.

chapter four | after realizing you were in no shape for a relationship, you decide that you were going to focus on yourself -- that is, until joe burrow makes an appearance again, and this time it wasn't so... smooth.

chapter five | you and joe decide it's better to just start over, and it works out pretty well.

blurbs