#but I think I'm going to have to write a lot more and get a lot better at it real quick

[covenofagatha]

hiiii <33

Could you write something about Agatha being a little insecure about being older than the reader?

Maybe they're at a party and someone the reader's age is going to talk to her and Agatha feels jealous and a little insecure, but pretend not to feel anything?

Then they go home and the reader shows Agatha that she loves her more than anything :)

If it's not too much to ask, the reader could have an obsession with Agatha's breasts and... really like eating her out? (like, a *really* big obsession) (sorry, Mrs Fletcher is on my mind a lot lately)

sorry for the details, lol, this came to me in the middle of the night

and by the way, I love your writing <33 you write very well

and I'm looking forward to the but you are my stepmother update :D

kisseess <3

I may have changed the setting a little bit (I've been watching Succession and was influenced lol) but hopefully you like! Also, Mrs. Fletcher literally changed my life so I completely understand

I combined this one with another request for being obsessed with Agatha’s breasts

Happy New Year to everyone!

Glitter on the floor

When Agatha gets jealous at the company New Year's Eve party, you remind her that she has nothing to worry about

Word count: 4300

Warnings: oral sex, oral fixation, breast fixation, marking

“Do you think anyone would notice if we just leave before the party even starts?” You ask, throwing a stress ball up in the air and catching it without even looking. 

You’re laying on your back on the couch in Agatha’s office and she snorts from her seat at her desk. 

Unlike you, when Agatha said she was going up to her office to quickly read over a contract before the company New Year’s Eve party, she meant it. You had just followed her up here to see if she was willing to get up to any funny business. 

“You don’t think they would notice that the CEO and General Counsel of the company aren’t at the company party?” Agatha asks amusedly, sarcasm dripping from her tone. 

Spellbound Network is a multi-billion dollar news conglomerate that Agatha Harkness is the Chief Executive Officer of. She’s absolutely ruthless and doesn’t hesitate before tearing anybody and everybody down. Nothing will stand in her way of world domination. 

As General Counsel, you’re a little less important, but you know that Agatha is right. The last thing you need is people speculating. 

The two of you have been involved in a more than professional relationship for seven months now. It all started when you offered to stay late to help her finish up with some end-of-quarterly reviews before the deadline and the two of you had ended up going out for drinks when you had finally finished. Agatha had let her hair down and told you just how stressed she was, and you had stupidly told her that you could help her relieve some of that stress. 

She had raised an eyebrow and you had taken it as a challenge. The next thing you knew, she was calling a car and the two of you were making out in the backseat on the way to her penthouse. 

It had grown into a relationship, a relationship that no one else in the office knew about. Things were getting pretty serious, and Agatha had even brought up you moving in with her. 

But you roll your eyes anyway. “It’ll be boring,” you drag out the last word slowly, sitting up to face her. “Wouldn’t you rather go back to your place, or even just stay up here?” You give her an impish grin and a wink. 

It’s a lost cause. Agatha has never let you touch her nor has she touched you in the office. 

She fixes you with a glare. “If you’re not going to behave, you can go downstairs and help set up for the party.” 

You hum in acquiescence and you’re about to resume your position on your back when Agatha leans forward and props herself up on her elbows, pushing her visible cleavage together. 

Your mouth runs dry. She’s wearing a long black dress with a low neckline that puts her breasts — that you may or may not be obsessed with — very much on display. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did it to tease you. 

“Agatha,” you whine, trying to sound pathetic so she’ll take pity on you. You can practically taste her skin with how badly you want her. 

She knows what you’re thinking, as always. “Stop,” she says without even looking up from her desk. “You aren’t going to goad me into touching you. Hasn’t worked any other time, isn’t going to work now.” 

You pout. “What are you talking about? I’ve never tried to.” It’s a bold-faced lie and you both know it. 

“Oh yeah?” She asks, at last looking up at you. “So when you got me that vibrator for the Secret Santa at the Christmas party, ‘not realizing that it was a public gift swap’; that wasn’t an attempt to work me up? Or when you just happen to come in here almost every day and knock over my pens so you have to bend down and shake your ass in my face?” 

You can’t help but chuckle at the reminders of your brazenness. To be fair, you had genuinely thought that the Secret Santa swap would be done in a group but then the gifts would be opened alone. And much to your surprise, you were wrong and when Rio Vidal, the head of Human Resources, had announced that it was time for everyone to open their gifts, you had quickly dragged Agatha upstairs, making some excuse about a phone call about a breaking news story. 

She had been furious at almost having to open your gift in front of the entire staff, and instead of having a very Merry Christmas Eve, courtesy of your generous gift and a well-placed bribe to the person who had actually drawn Agatha in the swap, she hadn’t touched you at all that night. 

But Christmas Day was much better, when she had put you on your knees for almost an hour and you made her cum four times with just your mouth. 

“You’re not letting those go anytime soon, are you?” You mutter. 

She throws a paper clip at you. “Go downstairs and stop bothering me,” she orders, fondness still in her voice. 

You huff a big sigh, one that tells her that just because you’re obeying doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, and walk over to place the paper clip and stress ball back on her desk. You straighten out your own dress, a long maroon one, and lean over to press a chaste kiss to her lips. 

To your surprise, she lets you do it and she even deepens it, flicking her tongue against the entrance to your mouth. When she pulls away, her eyes are dark and you’re about to ask her to reconsider, but she ushers you away with her hand and turns back to the contract. 

There’s not very many people in the lobby where the party is taking place, so you stand alone at a table and accept a glass of champagne from a waitress. It’s only ten pm and you know most of the staff won’t get here until closer to midnight, which would’ve been smart. 

If only Agatha hadn’t insisted that you and her come in for the entire day and get ahead of all the stuff that’s coming up in the new year. She didn’t even let you go back to your apartment once you both had finished, instead letting you shower in her private adjoining bathroom. 

And she wonders why you’re already so bored; you’ve been at the office for fourteen hours. 

Still at least two more to go. 

You take another glass of champagne and set it down next to your already half-empty glass. You’re going to need it once more people start showing up. 

It’s not that you don’t like them, it’s just that…if the building was on fire, you’d only really think or care about saving Agatha. 

“Hey there, General Counsel,” Rio says, slinking up to you. 

You smile. She’s an oddball, but her wry sense of humor sometimes is the only thing that gets you through business trips. Besides Agatha, of course. 

And it’s not exactly a secret that she has a bit of a crush on you. On paper, it would make more sense than you and Agatha. Rio is your age, and for all intents and purposes, doesn’t have any power over you, nor you her. 

But you’re in love with Agatha, and older women have always been more your type anyway. You’re perfectly happy with being friends with Rio, and it seems that Rio is content with your relationship now too. 

“Hey, Rio,” you greet, lifting your glass in a silent toast to her. She lifts up the other one and smoothly downs it in one gulp. 

And then the elevator dings and Agatha steps out and you forget all about Rio and everyone else. Your eyes follow her as she glides through the lobby, not even looking at you once, and she picks up a plate of caviar while the Chief Financial Officer, Jimmy, goes to talk to her. 

Rio taps her fingers to the rim of the empty glass. “So, I heard Harkness is thinking about acquiring Hex Industries for better tech.” 

“Water cooler gossip,” you say dismissively, not wanting to talk anymore business for the day. You’ve done enough with that with Agatha. And then you lower your voice conspiratorially. “But I did hear that Jimmy got divorced again?” 

It sends Rio into a fit of giggles and the two of you swap the details you’ve heard from various people and try to piece together what really happened. It does make the party go by faster and before you know it, there’s only about an hour before midnight. 

You cannot wait to go home with Agatha and forget all about work and this party and just focus on her. Ever since she changed into the dress she’s wearing tonight, you haven’t been able to focus with how delicious her breasts look in it. 

Some might call it an oral fixation, some might call it mommy issues, but there’s no denying how much you love to suck on her nipples. And to eat her out. 

Fuck. You can’t be thinking about that. Rio is saying something, something now about Tony, the Chief Operating Officer, and you’re shifting your weight thinking about the sounds Agatha makes when you get your mouth on her. 

You look around the room and you find her, standing alone, nursing her own glass of champagne. But what startles you is that she’s already watching you with a strange look on her face. You give her a small smile, your heart filling with adoration for the older woman, but she looks away. 

“Will you excuse me for a second?” You say to Rio, who nods. You walk over to Agatha and slide up next to her, your hand brushing against her lower back. “You okay?” You murmur into her ear. 

Agatha clears her throat and rolls her shoulders back and you have to make a pointed effort not to stare at her boobs that get pushed forward. “Just ready for this party to be over,” she says, voice clipped. 

“Oh yeah?” You whisper, cocking an eyebrow. “What do you have planned for when we get home?” 

She looks at you, finally looks at you, and you can see a guarded look in her eye. “We’ve had a long day, and this party won’t be done until after midnight. I’ll probably turn in.” 

“Oh, Mommy, your age is showing,” you tease mockingly in a hush, wearing a dramatic pout, another joke about how much older she is that she usually rolls her eyes at and then makes a comment about how much you like it.  

But she stiffens today. “Well, you’re more than welcome to go home with Rio if you want someone your own age.” The retort hits you like a punch in the gut and you’re left dumbfounded as she walks away, heels clacking on the floor. 

Is she…jealous? Surely Agatha can’t be, she knows how much you want her and love her. She knows how willing you are to show her. 

And maybe, just maybe, she’ll let you remind her right now. 

You check your watch. Forty-five minutes until midnight. You can feel her gaze from across the room, but when you try to make eye contact, she pretends like she isn’t looking at you, and you make the executive decision to try something that will probably backfire. 

Pulling out your phone, you pretend to take a call. You can feel her air shift; she knows that if someone’s calling you this late, it must be something urgent. You nod like you’re listening and then after a minute or two, you put your phone down. 

You meet her eyes and tilt your head toward the elevator, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. This could backfire. She could get so mad at you. 

But you have to try. 

Agatha excuses herself from the small group of people that have congregated around her table and she follows you into the elevator. 

“Who was that? What’s wrong?” She demands, and you almost feel bad for making her this panicked. 

You shake your head. “Just wait until we get to your office.” You think it should be a hint, but she doesn’t pick up on it. Instead, Agatha chews on her bottom lip and tosses her hair back over her shoulders. 

The doors ding open on the sixtieth floor and Agatha trails behind you, hot on your heels, as you take her to her office. You tell her to get on the couch while you draw the blinds to the glass windows facing the interior of the building, just in case anyone should happen to walk by. The television is on outside in the hallway and you can faintly hear the sounds of the New York Ball Drop show. A little over thirty minutes left. 

“What is going on?” Agatha asks again, clearly exasperated by you dragging this out. 

You turn around and almost moan at the sight of her sitting with her knees pulled up under her and her elbow propped up on the couch. This time, you really can’t help your gaze from darting down to her breasts and she snaps her fingers to get you to focus. “Rio’s just a friend,” you say bluntly, and Agatha scoffs. 

“What does this have to do with anything?” 

You slowly walk over and kneel down in front of her, pulling her legs out so that her feet are on the floor and you rest your chin on her knee and look up at her through your eyelashes. “There wasn’t a call,” you confess, already wincing on the inside at how she’s going to react. Her face remains stoic. “You were bothered by Rio and I talking.” It’s a statement, not a question. 

But Agatha jeers. “Is this your excellent counsel that I pay you so much for? That I’m bothered? Don’t think I don’t know about the little crush she has on you.” 

“So what if she has a crush? I don’t like her like that. You know I only have eyes for you,” you say, slowly inching the hem of her dress up her legs, waiting to be rejected. 

Her hand slides up your head and fastens into your hair, tilting you back so you can look straight at her. “Oh yeah?” She asks, daring, challenging you to go further. 

 You swallow hard. “Let me show you?” You offer timidly, praying it’s the right answer and you’re not reading this wrong. 

Agatha growls, a guttural noise deep in her throat, and she yanks you up and kisses you, nipping at your bottom lip. Her tongue forces its way into your mouth and you moan at the feeling, settling into her lap with your legs on either side of hers. She tugs at your hair and the sting makes you keen, only making you need her more. 

You can’t even wait, you’ve been on edge for too long, and you trail your lips down her neck, scrape your teeth against her collarbone, and then she helps you take the straps of her dress off. 

The second her breasts are free, you’re on them like you’re starving and they’re your salvation. You cup both of them with your hands, feeling the sturdy weight of them, and you knead softly, running your thumbs over both nipples. The dusky rose color stands out against her pale skin and you watch with fascination as her nipples harden under your gentle touch. Part of you still can’t believe she’s letting you touch her in the office. 

Not that you’re complaining. 

You swoop down and take one into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the little bud, and Agatha’s back arches off the couch as her fingers dig into your hair to keep you there. You’ve never felt more content in your life than like this, and you happily suck on her as the most delicious sounding noises fall out of her mouth. 

Her free hand finds your hip just as your fingers tug at her nipple that isn’t being occupied by your mouth and you can make out what she wants. Without moving away from her, you shift and place a leg in-between hers, able to feel the heat radiating from her pussy through her underwear and dress. 

“Fuck,” you mutter brokenly when she grinds up against your knee and you can feel just how wet she is. 

Agatha huffs out a chuckle. “You love sucking on Mommy’s tits so much, don’t you?” She asks and you switch sides and hum against her skin. “Mommy loves it, too.” 

You groan and take a break from directly stimulating her, instead, opting to lightly bite at the skin around her nipples, taking extra care to mark the curvature under them. She’s especially sensitive there, and her little gasps only spur you on. 

After you’ve left sufficient proof that you were there, you pull back and admire your work and you sharply inhale. Her breasts are absolutely painted with red marks that will surely fade into bruises by tomorrow and her chest heaves, a ragged look in her eyes. Agatha is still undulating against your leg and you can visibly tell how turned on she is. 

“Am I convincing you yet?” You ask, your voice coming out a little hoarse, and Agatha barks out a laugh. 

Her wicked grin has a thrill running inside you and she shifts underneath you until you figure out what she is trying to do. It’s a bit awkward, but she manages to turn her body so that her legs are on the couch horizontally but you’re still on top of her. 

She hums thoughtfully. “Think I might need a little more. If you’re willing, that is.” 

Only too willing. You can’t help yourself from leaning down and giving her a hard kiss, pulling away and sucking one nipple and then the other roughly until she moans, and then you move down her body and bunch up her dress at her hips. You put your hands on her shins and guide her legs up so they’re bent, her heels on the couch. 

And then you settle between her open legs and mouth at her sopping cunt through her underwear. A groan tears out of you before you can stop it at tasting the wet fabric, thick with her scent which you’ve become addicted to. You suck on her underwear, pulling the moisture out of it, and Agatha jerks underneath you. 

“We don’t have all day, pet,” she says tightly and you can hear the television outside saying there’s fifteen minutes left until New Year’s Day. 

You chuckle at her impatience and finally pull down her underwear. You wish your dress had pockets so you could store it for later, but you made do for just throwing it somewhere in her office. 

And then you drag your tongue up her slit and absolutely lose yourself in the taste. There’s something so indistinguishable and indescribable about it, and you lazily explore her pussy, getting as much of her wetness as you can into your mouth. You vaguely realize that she’s wrapped a leg over your shoulder and her heel is digging in, the sting only turning you on more. 

Small gasps are pulled out of Agatha’s mouth and her hips buck, trying to get more stimulation, but to no avail as you are completely focused on just licking her slowly. You moan into her and the vibrations make her whimper, but you almost don’t even hear it. This is your favorite place on earth, between her legs, and you don’t want to ever leave. She’s so warm and wet and responsive against your tongue and you fucking love it. Love getting her wetness all over your face, love feeling her clench around your tongue, love the taste and smell and how she reacts when you lap at her clit. 

You do that now, and her thighs tighten around your head and she sighs like she’s finally getting some of the relief that she needs. 

“I love your pussy,” you say, but the words are garbled. She lets out a muffled sound and you look up through hooded eyes to see her head strewn back in pleasure, dark hair fanned out beneath her, bottom lip between her teeth, and her fingers tweaking her raw nipples. The sight makes you moan against her again and her hips jump. 

She looks down to meet your gaze and you feel the fire inside you only being stoked more when you realize that almost all the blue in her eyes is gone, entirely swallowed up by dark desire. “Please,” she begs, sounding more needy than she ever has since you’ve started sleeping with her. “Mommy needs this so bad.” 

And the only thing you love more than tasting her with your mouth is making her cum with your mouth. 

So you oblige, thrusting your tongue inside her and almost losing all composure when her walls flutter around it. She lets out a loud whine when your nose brushes against her clit and you keep doing that, curling your tongue inside her and moving your head up and down so she can get some desperately needed stimulation to her clit. 

“Fuck, baby, your mouth is so good,” she practically sobs, and you can feel her throb. She never takes long, which is almost a shame because you’d stay between her legs forever if you could. Building her up, feeling her legs tremble around you, that’s half the fun right there. 

But she needs it, and you can hear that it’s getting closer to midnight. Only a few minutes left. 

You double the intensity, dragging your tongue over her clit again and again, feeling it pulse. You slip a hand between your own legs and groan at the wetness you find, fingers strumming at your own clit through your dress and soaked panties. Nothing gets you more turned on than Agatha’s pussy in your mouth, absolutely coating your face. 

She’s pinching her nipples now and you almost lose your rhythm from wishing you were the one doing that to her, but you don’t falter. Wetness is dripping out of her cunt onto the couch below and you almost smirk at the thought of seeing the stain tomorrow.  

Agatha better let you fuck her in her office more often. You clench at the thought of being under her desk, eating her out while she’s going through contracts or in a meeting or having lunch. Anytime you can. 

“Fuck, fuck, baby,” she chants and you can hear the minute countdown start. You lick and suck and nip and her hips are moving furiously, grinding on your face and you can’t breathe but you don’t even care because she tastes so fucking good. 

“Five…four…” You shove your tongue inside her and curl it up, stroking against the spongy spot that makes her gasp. “Three..two…” You scrape your teeth against her clit and she keens. “One…Happy New Year!” 

You suck her clit into your mouth hard and that does it. She goes flying over the edge, wetness gushing out onto your face, and you blissfully lick her through her orgasm, not even realizing that she’s too sensitive until she’s tugging at your hair, pulling you away from her. 

She brings you in for a kiss, a tradition when the clock strikes midnight on January First, but also something she always does when you eat her out, moaning at the taste of herself on your lips, and you don’t even care that you haven’t cum yet. You clasp her cheeks and your tongue sweeps into her mouth until you finally have to break apart to breathe. 

“What a way to start the new year,” you joke and she laughs and fluffs her hair. She looks like a thoroughly-fucked mess, but also the hottest you’ve ever seen. You soften and press a gentle kiss to her lips. “You know I love you, right? I don’t care about how old you are, you know I fucking love that. You don’t have to worry about Rio, or anyone else, no matter if they’re my age or not. I want you and only you.” 

Agatha smiles and kisses you again, and then kisses your nose. “I want all your midnight kisses, baby. I love you too.” It’s the most romantic thing she’s ever said. 

And of course you immediately have to ruin it with a joke. “Office sex isn’t that bad, hm?” She pokes your side and you giggle. 

“Let’s get back downstairs before anyone notices that we’ve been gone for so long,” she says. 

You whine but reluctantly get off her when she pats your hips and she finds her underwear that was thrown to the ground. You both fix your make-up in the mirror and then you’re back in the elevator, descending the sixty floors. If anyone asks, you’ll say it was an emergency with an acquisition. But you doubt anyone will. The champagne is flowing and it’s a party. 

Before the doors open, Agatha takes your hand, squeezes it three times as if to say I love you and then there’s a ding and it’s back to reality. 

But she gives you a wink meant only for you when she toasts to the company and all the good things yet to come and a warm feeling fills you. 

What a way to start the new year, indeed. 

[everestgale]

Whatever you're trying to do right now, you don't have to do it alone.

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Happy New Year's Eve, Slay the Princess community!

A long, long message and credits to the designs are under the cut.

[Please excuse any awkward sentences, weird repetitions, and grammatical mistakes, I've been awake for 20 hours or so]

I cannot describe how much joy I feel right now, finally getting this drawing done. I feel nothing but joy when I think about Slay the Princess, and I feel nothing but pure adoration when I think about and spend time in this community. This game and this community truly brought a lot of happiness to me and made this otherwise unremarkable, maybe even depressing, year that much brighter. I wish I had more and better words to describe what I'm feeling right now! Genuinely, I don't have words to describe how much gratitude I feel right now.

And so for my final piece of 2024, I wanted to make a thank you drawing to this community and hopefully express the fraction of love and gratitude I feel right now. And I decided to make that drawing a group photo of 30 different Heroes! It ended up being 29 Heroes and one Opportunist, but I promise there is a reason for that-

If I had more time and energy, I would've included even more people, there are so many skilled artists, writers, and wonderful people in general who ended up excluded, especially due to this drawing being a voice-centered piece. But I'm glad I at least get to highlight some of the wonderful creators and artists in this community! Please check them out and support their work! They are all amazing <3

If you wanted to know who is the author behind each design, I made an annotated version! Sorry if the text is too small, I tried my best to write it as large as I could T-T

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Now onto the message to the people in the drawing:

First! I sincerely apologize if I missed some details with your Hero design, or if I used an outdated version of it. I wanted to keep this a surprise, and for some of these, I had to dive into the depths of Tumblr to find (hopefully) relevant references. And yes, if you've received a DM from me about your Hero in the past few weeks or so, this project was the reason why! And if you've received an anonymous ask about your Hero, there is a quite good chance it was from me, too <3

And second! I have a message for each and every one of you:

@acethekenku: Your designs are so well-made and awesome! Especially adore your Broken and Contrarian, there's something about them that just immediately catches my eye! Your Contrarian's fashion and DIY skills are also immaculate :]

@artificial-radiance: Your art is absolutely wonderful, whether it's Slay the Princess, Destiny 2, or sonas! I wish I had a better word to describe your art, but the best I got is "delicious" /lh

@beartitled: I adore your StP comics! I adore your drawings of male!Princesses! I adore your non-StP work! Everything you make is so charming, and it's always a joy to see your work <3

@bubblybloob: One of my favorite fanart memes, to this day, is your old "I do not control the speed at which princesses die" meme. I still go re-read it sometimes when I'm not feeling great, it always puts a smile on my face (yes, this is my kind of humor). Though, your new voice designs are SO creative and unique! Love the fluffy Para and the prophetic cage Skeptic especially, but they are all so good <3

@coldranger: Your lads! So simple and yet so well-designed and expressive! That roadrunner Hunted you shared yesterday is so adorable, I can't with him! It is always wonderful to see more of your drawings. Also thanks for gushing with me over mod Owl's designs <3

@cookiealchemieart: I recently mentioned that you are one of my first Tumblr follows, and it's for a good reason! You made a lot of wonderful illustrations, and your three fan princesses are some of my favorites of all the ones I've seen before! And your voice designs, gosh, I am hugging your Contrarian-

@dampfur: Your art is unbelievably charming! And when I saw your Burned Bridges post with redesigns for Cold and Smittten, I absolutely fell in love with them. I will use this space to gush about just how simple and yet adorable and recognizable they are!

@glitchh1337: Always love seeing what you are up to on Discord! Whether it's design concepts for voices or little pixel art animations, they are all wonderful :]

@justcherryqwq: Your animations!!! Cherry, your animations are pure gold. The way you draw voices as little guys flying around the scene/the Long Quiet is just too perfect. I am also grabbing and petting your Paranoid, gently, of course!

@occatorcreator: You have one of the most unique voice designs/representations I've ever seen! Especially in that one post where you drew voices taking over Long Quiet's body, the way you drew the "possession" is just... so unique, so cool! I wish I had better words!

@orcatnip: I cannot describe how much delight your sketches bring me whenever they show up on my dash! And the way you wrote about voices appearing as fractures in Long Quiet's soul! Oh! Genuinely obsessed!!!

@pareidolla: Your voice designs are very pretty and very adorable! As you can see, I immediately had to try drawing your current iteration of Hero because he is SO PRETTY! I couldn't help myself. Sorry if I was too hasty in my decision to include an in-progress design, but I wanted you to be included here-

@remaking-machine: Rema!!! Your voices!!! They are so precious and charming! Love your Cheated, love your Hero, love your Skeptic! You were one of the first people I found & followed on Tumblr, and it's been such a joy to see what you're up to <3 [Also, I still would like a tray of Hero cookies-]

@salty-an-disco: Your writing, at least from what I've seen of it, is awesome! I genuinely wish I had the attention span to read your Heathens AU because whenever I see you talk about it, or draw anything for it, I love it a lot! Hopefully one day I will, but for now, I am here to admire your art :]

@sorry-not-feeling-it-right-now: Hey, who let this bird-fox into this gathering of Heroes-

Jokes aside, I am absolutely obsessed with your voice designs, and I really, really wanted to include you in this drawing, despite the fact that you are still working on your Hero design. Thank you for letting me include your Opportunist in this drawing, I cannot WAIT to see your Hero design <3

@tai-janai: Your drawings are so delightful, and I love the way you draw your voices! Your voice shipping sketches are also so adorable, and your HeA-inspired ParaHero sketch sometimes decides to show up in my head and not pay any rent (I love it a lot)!

@voiceofthebroken: Remember how I mentioned that your Cheated post inspired one of my upcoming projects? Yes, it was this one. You are responsible for this /lh

Don't want to repeat myself too much from the ask I sent yesterday, but I will once again say that I love your voice designs, and I will once again compliment your Cheated and Hunted. They are precious! <3

@wysteriaisapenguin: Your art is so charming and so recognizable! Your most recent HeA drawing is absolutely stealing my heart in a way that I cannot describe!!! I also really like your Hero design, he was an absolute joy to draw <3

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Oh look, there's more, too!

@sonjalikestodraw: Sonja! Oh Sonja, everything you make is just SO PERFECT, your pieces are always so stellar and carefully crafted, and your voice designs are so thoughtful and so iconic, I love it every time you make a post with a little write-up of your design notes! It's always such a joy to read!!

0th: To say that your designs and your writing inspired my own would be saying nothing at all, they were some of the first I've seen! They will always have a special place in my heart as "the designs" that greatly contributed to my own final designs! And your Swap AU still is one of my favorites in the whole fandom, love all the unique designs you made for it!! Noble my beloved <3

@itsonlypolite: The way your voices ingrained themselves in my brain, I cannot describe it! Your designs are truly some of the most unique, most recognizable designs in the fandom. You deserve every single positive comment and compliment on your art and designs!!! I also love how you reply to people's asks with little drawings of your own. It's so charming and welcoming <3 It's also always pure joy talking to you!

@cammie-yammie: I am very glad that I got over my anxiety and started talking more and hanging out in your thread! I love your art, always so charming, so distinctly you, just such joy to look at, and I'm glad I got to engage with it more, and with you as a person!!! Damn, these sentences are confusing lol Long story short, love your art, love talking to you, and it's just pure joy either way <3

@lavb-b: I am not kidding when I say that your Businessman animation rewired something in my brain, whenever I watch it, I cannot stop myself from laughing, even though at this point I've seen it like 20+ times already. Besides that, your art in general is just such high-quality work, and I love talking to you on the Discord server! Welcoming you with open arms to EG's Yap Central Station /lh

@phantasmatoucan (mod Owl): OWL HOW DO YOU KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS- You have no idea how obsessed I am with your art, you have SUCH a distinct, awesome style, and the way you designed your voices brings me so, so much joy. And not only are you a skilled artist with amazing voice designs, but you are also just such a positive person, too!!! How is this possible!!! What's your secret!!!

@hello-universe-lovers: Your reblog comments always make me happy, and I absolutely love chatting with you!!! The little interaction you wrote between our Cheateds brought me so much joy as I was finishing this project <3 And even besides that, your art is so charming, and also apparently you are a wizard who draws everything with your finger- I cannot understand such witchcraft /lh

@neverpathia: You are the reason I QPR-ship ParaHero! You got these birds in my brain, and I can't get them out, how dare you (/lh). Jokes aside, I really like your writing, especially the way you write voices, and your art is also very pretty, I love it a lot! It's also such a joy to have you hang out in my art thread, thanks for doing that :]

@disarraydoodlez: Jam! And Kiri! Your art is so iconic, Kiri's desire for perfection never goes unnoticed, and Jam's chaotic silly ideas are always such a highlight (I'm still waiting for you to finish that one Den idea. The one we kept laughing about for like 30 minutes. That one). Thanks for inviting me to the PotC one-shot, I had a lot of fun playing it, and I'm glad we still hang out and chat sometime! Love everything you make, regardless of the fandom, and I can't wait to see what you both will make next <3

@s3viien (they mostly exist on BSky, check them out there!): Sev! My partner in crime! One of my biggest cheerleaders, you have no idea how much how dearly I appreciate it. I love sharing all my random ideas with you, and I love hearing about all of yours! Your art, your videos, and your music are all PEAK, and I'm always happy to see what you've been up to! To our friendship for as long as it lasts <3

@inkedout: And last but certainly and absolutely not least, Ink, my friend, you are one of the big reasons why I feel as comfortable writing all of this right now as I am right now. I cannot put into words just how much I appreciate you as a friend!! it is always such a joy to talk to you, whether it's about StP, or ATR, or a different fandom, or just life in general! I love seeing all your art, your OCs, and anything else you might have <3

Also voice shipping. There are certain ships, you probably know which ones, that are now stuck in my head because of you. I blame you /lh

-----

I believe that should be all I have to say! Happy New Year's Eve again, and I will see you all in 2025!

[cvnt4him]

Diaries of Spider-Man.

ch1

Dear diary; what was I thinking?!

synopsis; the disastrous "adventures" of a teenaged spiderman.

This is a WIP, please let me know your thoughts and if this is what you would like to see from me<3

“let's do this one.. last.. time...”

“my name is izuku midoriya, and for the past 3 years, I've been the one and only spiderman. Annnd, I'm pretty sure you know the rest..”

₊˚⊹

Izuku jots away in his notebook before taking a step back to read what little he's written. the groan that escaped his lips was quite audible. He was rather disappointed in what he's written.

When his therapist "prescribed" him to journaling or writing down his thoughts in a notebook which he didn't want to refer to as a diary, his initial thought was;

‘theres no way in hell writing things down would help me.’

However for the past three years, izuku found himself writing everything he could down in those measly little journals his therapist gave him. Each and every year the thick and huge diary journal she gave him would begin to get fuller and fuller of all of his little adventures or simple daily routines.

Izuku was nothing if not a stubborn little shit at times. Of course he would disagree heavily but facts don't lie. You can't tell this energetic know it all anything. He's really smart and well put together. Most of the time. Upon becoming spiderman he hasn't had a lot of time for much. His consistent tasks of being spiderman are always heavy and time consuming. He doesn't have time to study for his driver's test, his normal class tests which define if he passes the grade and gets into college, or even dinner half the time?!

To be frank; the poor thing has been through a lot the past years. Too much honestly. Izukus "power" awakening was an honest mistake. Like your typical movie spiderman, he was bitten by a radioactive spider whilst he was doing something he knew he had no business doing

₊˚⊹

To go back exactly three years 4 months and 17 days ago, you would find a 14/15 year old izuku breaking into an abandoned home with none other than his typical, usual, partners in crime.

Katsuki bakugou and y/n l/n.

Izuku knew it was a bad idea from the beginning, however he always followed the two of you into stupid situations that could eventually get you killed. In this case, it almost did. Izuku helped you get through the window the three of you had busted by letting you climb onto his shoulders, katsuki who had laid his jacket over the glass so none of you would cut yourselves, grabbed you by your arms and pulled you in, the both of you then helped izuku in with basically the same method.

“woah.. spooky.”

“ heh.. it reeks in here.”

You giggled at katsukis exclaim, making izuku pout slightly. He sighed to himself, not wanting to admit the blonde was correct.

“ you guys i- i really don't think we should— ”

“ hey check it out! there are spray paint cans in here!”

Katsuki yells running to the other room with numerous cans of spray paint. You followed him like a dumb lost puppy leaving izuku to groan and follow behind you both.

There were many graffiti stamps left behind from many different people, obviously they had left behind their spray paint for some odd reason, that's what really intrigued izuku.

“ tch, hey deku, get over here so we can sign our names!”

Izuku jogs closer to you two shivering to himself at all the spiderwebs covering the cans. It was dusty and quite eerie inside of this place. Izuku truthfully wanted no part. You and katsuki signed your names right next to each other with little quirky doodles next to them, izuku soon followed suit. He picked up the green can of paint and signed his name ‘izuku’

“ no no, put deku! ‘ts way better than ‘izuku’!”

The way katsuki could make izuku feel bad about his given name should've been studied. And they way you were quick to agree hurt the poor boy even more. He soon crossed out izuku and put ‘Deku’ big and boldly. It was all alone compared to how closely the two of your names were.

The two of you had long began to explore elsewhere, leaving izuku wondering where you two went off to.

“hey! Come in here izu- I mean deku!”

You yell out catching his attention, he follows the sound of your voice to find you two the small critter crawling up his back going completely unnoticed. Some time passed and it only got later and later, izuku was still hesitant about being there but the two of you just kept going deeper and deeper inside of the manor.

Izuku rushes inside of the next room, breaking contact with whatever artifacts caught his eye. He looked for the two of you calling out your names with no answer, he was confused and quite scared, where could the two of you have gone?

“ boo!”

Izuku jumped back falling down to the ground and scraping his little hands.

“ow..!”

Izuku winced at the sudden sting of not only his hands but the pinch of his skin itching and being very irritated next to his neck, he slapped it and the arachnid soon fell into his hands. With a shutter he threw the spider out of his hands feeling rather jittery after the encounter.

“ are you alright, izuku?!“

You were quick to rush over to him. It was simply supposed to be a little harmless joke, he wasn't supposed to get hurt. You helped him up and dusted him off as well heading katsuki suck his teeth in response.

“ yes, i- I'm fine. I've gotten bitten by a spider however.. one unlike any other I've ever seen.. we should head back so I can tell my mom.”

“ oh, oka-”

“ no.”

Katsuki was quick to shut down before you could get out your sentence. You both turned to look at him he seemed angry a bit as if something completely ruined his mood.

“ if you tell your mom we could get in trouble, she might tell my mom who might tell y/ns. you don't want us getting in trouble, do you deku.”

The way katsuki used the nickname against him made his stomach feel sick. He gulped down the rising bile in his throat and coughed lowly.

“ katsuki he got hurt, shouldn't he-”

“ no! I'm not getting in trouble because wimpy deku wanted to be an easy scare!”

“thats not fair katsuki!”

The two of you started bickering, leaving him out causing him to sigh. He felt a bit weird.. kind of dizzy and out of breath as if he'd been running. It was growing warm and he had began sweating, hyperventilating as if he needed to catch his breath.

The sounds of him caught your attention and suddenly the boy looked quite weak, frail of some sort.

“ izuku..? are you...alright?”

Katsuki sooner looked over to see izuku hardly keeping his balance, he wouldn't admit it but he was quite worried at the sight of him.

“ let's go.”

Was all katsuki said as he grabbed izuku by the hand and ran back towards the broken window the three of you came in.

The two of you got izuku home in one piece for the most part, he was dizzy and hardly standing up on his own, the running had him so our of breath it was almost like he was having an anxiety attack. He probably was to be honest, izuku was a very anxious boy. His anxiety levels were very high at all times, with the growing symptoms in his body and the bite from the spider he was so worried about what was happening to him he most likely started having a panic attack whilst running. Luckily he was home now, you and katsuki beat on his door as you heard him mom yelling she was coming.

She opens the door with a smile to see the three of you out of breath with a dead looking izuku, the sight startled his mother causing her to pick up her son and rush him to the hospital. Both yours and katsukis parents had been called and had quite a talk with inko who was worried sick about her son, yelling at your parents and explaining how she has no idea what happened.

You two didn't speak to each other once. Not even looking at each other. Both your parents had taken you and katsuki back home. After that night you'd never spoken to katsuki or izuku ever again..

Izuku was completely fine however. Those symptoms may have been bad but that was all it was. He was able to go home that same day and the doctors called it a simple panic/anxiety attack. His mother was worried sick for no reason.

From that moment forward things only began to get weirder for this normal teenaged boy.

₊˚⊹

Izuku sat at his desk reading his old journals of how he believes he got his powers, scoffing to himself at the memories. He had all his books all over his desk in a completely messy pile nose buried in his book as someone walked over and bumped his desk back into him, it lightly hit him in the stomach causing him to drop the journal in the desk and the desk of the books that were formerly there onto the floor.

He scoffed in annoyance looking up to see you with a shit eating grin on your face as you scowled down at him, not even apologizing as you walked out of the classroom.

Izuku seen as the classroom was completely empty, just him and his messy books all over the floor. He sighed and crouched down picking them up and shoving them into his backpack. His phone vibrated in his back pocket, he picked up up to see w text from his friends.

‘ hey! Meet us in the front?’

That singular text from ochako was all he needed for a small smile to form on his freckled cheeks. Just as he was about to put it away there was a pop up from the news channel he had downloaded on his phone, something about a criminal stealing from a jewelry shop.

He sighed to himself and texted her back explaining he wouldn't be able to meet them and that he'd just head home. However that wasn't the case. He ran out the back door of the school pushing through some students earning some angry and annoyed remarks spat at him; but he didnt have time to care. He ran behind some building and quickly slipped his suit on. He'd rather skip the embarrassing details..

Just as he was about to 'web away' he got a call from none other than katsuki bakugou. Izuku jumped and nearly dropped his phone at the sudden ringing, he quickly answers without thinking, lifting his mask over his mouth to speak,

“ oi nerd, y’heard about that criminal stealing that diamond or whatever?”

The normally volcanic boy has a soft tone still laced with a bit of redness and sass.

“ yes, kacchan, and before you called I was just about getting there so if y’dont mind!!!!”

The blond scoffs on the other side, chuckling as he snorts at his sass. Izuku groaned at the sound of him laughing and simply hung up swinging away as quickly as he could.

“ look up there! It's spiderman!!”

People squealed and yelled at the familiar colors of izukus suit, black along the sides and a deep green painting the front and back of his skin tight suit, and a big white spider over the chest. He'd made the suit when he was younger and had started working out he'd wanted to show it off but as of now he thinks it's quite unnecessary..

He swung through the crowds waving and smiling under the mask, as tiring as being spiderman was he was always thankful for the love he'd gotten. They truly made him feel valuable, izuku struggled with self confidence a lot, it's common in people like that to enjoy attention from all.

It wasn't that izuku needed to be humbled or anything but....izuku swung down an alley that reports seen the criminal go down, supposedly the diamond they had stolen was a very important artifact from ancient times or whatever, moral of the story was he needed to get it back to where it belonged! Izuku could do that!

He dropped in front of the criminal with a hero stance making him appear big n bad in front of them.

“ stop! give me that diamond, criminal!”

Izuku was obsessed with action movies when he was younger, his favorite actor was custom to working in them. He always imagined being a superhero and technically he is! However within these three years the fame and glory really went to his head ..

The criminal halted, izuku tried stepping closer to retrieve the diamond in a cool manner, speaking to the cloaked person in a soft voice trying to get them to come to their senses like some kind of......main character. To izukus surprise they pulled out a crossbow. He was stunned at the size of it,

“ how- how did that fit inside of your— ”

Before izuku could get the rest of his sentence out the criminal shot the arrow, it completely piercing izukus shoulder. He yelled out in pain nearly falling to his knees, that then made him realize that was no joke, this person being unlike any other petty thief hes gone up against.

As the criminal kicked izuku to the ground with a bare boot while he was holding his injured and punctured shoulder they quickly made haste and ran past him out of the alley, crowds soon coming up after the person ran away and seeing izuku clutching his shoulder run pain, all of them having different emotions on his face it would be an understatement to say he was embarrassed.

What had he thought that he was just invincible? Izuku struggled into his knees hearing whispers from the crowd and quickly tried his best to attempt swinging away with a singular arm, his left to be exact and that wasn't his maiden arm either. Izuku was fully right handed and did everything with it, with his right arm basically out of commission he did his best to swing with his left hand but...

He eventually wobbled and hit a sign, he was going at a high speed as well trying to hide his shame and find the person who did this to him, as his body came into full contract with the sign knocking every little bit of air out if his body the arrow got pushed deeper, making izuku groan in agony once more. Blood wetting his skin and suit as it dropped down, he didn't take the arrow out before because he thought about how it would cause him to bleed out and wouldn't be any good...now he wished he had.

He held onto the large sign and tried to swing away once more, he eventually got the hang of it for a little while managing to drop himself behind a building. He leaned against the wall of it and groaned, he wanted to take his suit off but it wouldn't be a good idea, anyone could've followed him or even tried to see who he was. It wasn't a good idea.

With every ounce of energy and strength in his body he pushed himself up from sliding to the ground and called who he knew he could.

“ yo?”

“ ka..kacchan... I need your...your help..”

₊˚⊹

AN: this is js a WIP lemme know what y'all think n if I should add or like yk leave out some things!!!!

[zodiac-blood]

Like as someone who would definitely fall under the category of "is asexual with no sexual attraction but still does it anyway" I completely understand the notion of "hey it's nice to understand that not all ace people are sex repulsed" but also as someone who also considers themself gay (in a mlm way) (in a tertiary attraction kinda way) and has a girlfriend its like. But I've never seen anyone say any of the gay men in media I relate to can also date women without feeling attracted to them. Its like.... So??? Give me a reason aroaces are the only time there are exceptions that are respected that ISN'T just the the amatonormative idea of ""dating & sex is just natural"" and that allowing this exception means people can still center their stories around dating and sex.

This probably is because allo queers, even if being queer, can still abide by the amatonormative idea of "everyone needs to want/pursue a relationship and (romantic&sexual) love is the most important feeling", so even if yes, a gay man is not abiding by the cishet standards of attraction he can still have a "normal" love story of falling in love and pursuing that interest. Also additionally that aroaces fall outside of the "sexuality binary" (the weird idea that the only sexualities are "exclusive attraction to men" and "exclusive attraction to women" and that anything outside of that is not valid) A romance & sex repulsed Aroace cannot fufil any part of the amatonormative expectation and so exceptions are only allowed in the case that it makes the most important thing about their life still center around romance and sexuality. (Of course- exceptions aren't normally allowed like the fact no one gets I can be gay and have a girlfriend but that exceptions not accepted because it doesn't fit the sexuality binary)

Cause like. Most Allos can understand/relate to the concept of not feeling attracted to a certain gender (like het men don't feel attracted to men but can understand the concept of a gay man not feeling attracted to women under the basis of "its like me but reversed") but they don't have any point of easy reference to relate to no attraction at all so they don't really even try. If they can't relate to it then they don't feel the need to change their worldview to allow it.

Anyway as I said; I would fall under the category of "aroace that is in a relationship" (and not even because of the tertiary attraction) so I totally understand there are people who are like me. And yes I think having that sort of relationship is valid- I mean I'm literally living in one- but its very telling that every aroace character always has this same exact debate but you don't see ANY discussion about biromantic homosexuals or any form of split attraction and dating without attraction in allo characters.

Unfortunately I don't know that many canonically aroace characters- other than Percy (canon ace and Jello said she may also be aro) & Howie (aroace) from Epithet Erased and Lilith (aroace) from the Owl House. Didn't get into toh fan spaces so idk about that but I know I definitely have seen posts about shipping Howie and Percy (sometimes together bc of their rivalry - but other ships are more common.) And yeah Percy is only stated to be ace and "potentially aro" and not explicitly aroace- still definitely have seen many a Percy x Howie or explicitly sexual Ramsey x Percy / Zora x Percy going around so :v

Even if I am in a relationship the way I go about my relationship is a lot different than what allos go through- yet every time in fiction an aroace character is in a relationship its written exactly how allo relationships are. (Though I tend to be romance repulsed so I don't read much of that anyway lol). I do love that other aros who are more romance favourable than me like to write/draw relationships that fit how they live- but when allos write/draw it a lot of time they don't take care in actually considering how that would absolutely affect the dynamic or that there are some characters that just don't want any sort of romantic or sexual relationship at all.

I'm probably going to end up writing my own post abt this further so I don't derail but; also the whole idea of "split attraction and the ability to be not sexually attracted but not sex repulsed in a relationship is only an asexual thing" and not just like. A broad attraction thing that anyone can experience. Definitely is also aided by &/ partially the cause of these exceptions only being applied to aroace folk.

-Toby (they/them) & Bias (he/they)

the way fandoms are desperate to make all aroace characters romance and sex positive but then dont do anything remotely similar to any other identity is astounding. hmm i wonder why

PLEASE dont derail this about shipping characters of other identities please let this one post be about an aroace struggle

[verus-animus]

Hot Massage

"P-Please... S... S... Stop..." Jeremy tried to plead desperately, but his numb lips and face made it incredibly hard.

"Shhh... Don't speak. You'll only waste your energy." I shushed the handsome hunk that laid beneath me. Opening another bottle, I poured out the clear serum and massaged it into his firm chest. It quickly began heating up and his skin soften slightly.

"W-Why....." He asked. I could tell he was trying desperately to make his large muscles move, but unfortunately all it did was twitch his fingers.

"Why? I don't know, Jeremy... Maybe it's because of all those years back in high school that you bullied me and completely ruined my reputation and any chances of me getting into a good college, or maybe it's because of the 'accident' you caused which burned half of my face off... What do you think?" There was definitely a hint of anger within my voice, but I quickly calmed down and continued massaging his warm pliable chest.

"...I-I'm s-sorry...." He really meant it this time. Unlike all those other times he said it in front of his peers. But it didn't matter anymore.

"A bit too late for that, Jeremy... Even if I have forgiven you for all those years back then, the serum has already reached its full effect. There's really no going back now." I smothered my hands against his rippling skin and felt how they slowly began sinking into him. Into his flesh.

"...no...ah..." He gasped, as he felt me invade his very flesh. My elbows disappeared as I got closer and closer to his anguished numb face.

"Don't worry, you won't feel a thing. Once I push my head inside and overlap my brain onto yours, you'll never have a thought of your own again. From now on I'll control your every movement, your every breath, and your every heartbeat. It'll be my rugged hands running across these perfect pecs, my juicy ass squeezing dildos deeper inside, and my handsome scar-free face hungrily licking up all the residue from the bathroom mirror."

I gave his glazed-over eyes one last look and pushed my lips against his soft ones, before I plunged my entire head inside his. His fingers clenched together and he began gasping for air, as I moved around inside him and positioned myself correctly. As soon as I settled down my mind suddenly exploded with all of Jeremy's memories, dreams, and aspirations. I felt them embrace me and flow into me, until I felt myself own them as if they had always been mine.

I opened my new eyes just in time to see the last of the rippling effect on my new large chest settle down. As it did, I felt a torrent of unbridled cum unleash itself underneath the warm blanket.

It was done. Jeremy had taken everything from me back then; my life, my reputation, my future, my face... Now, I've taken it all back; the successful life, the promising future, and even the perfect face. This was a brand new start for me, the new Jeremy...

Happy New Year everyone! Thought I'd pop by and let you all know that I'm still around. I haven't been feeling very inspired lately, and with a lot of things going on in life I haven't really taken the time to properly write. Still, I thought I'd give you all a treat with this older draft I made a while back. Hope you all enjoy it, and perhaps you'll hear more from me this new year! /Verus <3

[mammons-lover]

Prank Gone Pregnant [Happy New Years!]

MC (grinning mischievously at Mammon's camera): Hey guys, welcome back! Today, I’m going to prank my boyfriend by pretending to break up with him. Let’s see how hard he panics. Spoiler: It’s Mammon, so… a lot. Let’s do this.

MC (fake sniffling, eyes cast down): Mammon, sweetie…

Mammon (striding over dramatically, already looking concerned): Yeah, babe? What’s wrong? You okay?

MC (turning their head away to stifle a laugh, voice trembling for effect): I think… it’s time we break—

Mammon (interrupting with wide eyes, completely serious): I’m pregnant.

MC (now genuinely stunned, blinking): Wait. What?

Mammon (doubling down like his life depends on it, hand over his heart): Yeah, you heard me. Pregnant. Bun in the oven. Lil’ Mammon Jr. on the way.

MC (trying not to lose it, but also trying to keep it logical): Mammon, that’s literally not possible. You’re a—

Mammon (jumping to his feet, hands on hips, voice dripping with indignation): Oh, so now you don’t want OUR baby?!

MC (deadpan): You’re male!

Mammon (scoffing like this is the least of their concerns): And I’m also a demon, something ya didn’t even know existed till you landed here! Maybe you need to stop slackin’ in bio class, MC!

MC (completely breaking character, laughing): Oh my god, I love you, babe. And I love how far you’re willing to go to keep me, but—

Mammon (dropping to his knees mid-sentence, clutching at MC’s hands dramatically): Please don’t leave me! I’ll DIE! I’ll do anything! Beg, grovel, get a second job, whatever you want!

MC (still giggling): Mammon! Let me finish! I was gonna say it’s a prank!

Mammon (pausing, looking betrayed): A PRANK?! You got me cryin’ over here for a PRANK?!

MC (trying to hold in laughter, patting his shoulder): I’m sorry, but once you hit me with the ‘I’m pregnant’, I had to see this through!

Mammon (standing dramatically, wiping his tears): Well, guess what? You’re not sleepin’ in my bed tonight. And we’re OVER.

MC (mock-pouting): Aw, c’mon, Mammon, don’t be like that—

Mammon (cutting them off immediately, arms crossed but already relenting): No, wait, I take it back. We ain’t over. But I’m still mad. You’re on thin ice!

MC (grinning): I’ll make it up to you with snacks?

Mammon (grumbling, but already caving): …Fine. But only ‘cause I’m pregnant and I need to eat for two!

(Enter Leviathan, standing nearby with headphones half-off, looking completely bewildered as he stares after them.)

Leviathan: Wait. WHAT THE FUCK?! Mammon’s PREGNANT?!

Mammon (yelling back over his shoulder): Yeah, Levi! Start plannin’ the baby shower!

Leviathan (suddenly panicking, pacing): Oh my daivolo, I’m gonna be an uncle! We need to babyproof the house! There’s sharp corners everywhere, and that stair railing is a death trap! Do demons even have car seats?! Someone get me a checklist—WHERE’S THE CHECKLIST?!

{Haven’t posted any fics lately? Uhh… do we even call these fics? 🤔 Who knows! Anyway, I seriously miss making them, but college is not what I expected (first semester, woo-hoo! 🥲) and, uh… I'm definitely failing three classes. BUT!! I’ve figured out how to balance college and life, so next semester is gonna be great!. I miss writing, though, so you better believe more is coming soon! Stay tuned, besties!}

[munsonsmixtapes]

can you write soft!eddie with shy!reader? their dynamic would be so sweet!!

Family Video is completely empty when you enter it for your first shift. You pick at the skin around your nails as you approach the counter. A man is behind it typing something into the computer, a curtain of curls covering his face as he does so.

You want to speak to him, to tell him that it's your first day, but you just stand there, waiting for him to notice you. It's partly because he seems busy and partly because talking to new people has always been something you've struggled with. You get too shy or nervous or and you hate it, but it's not exactly easy to get over.

After a few minutes, he finishes up what he's doing and turns towards the front of the store, his eyes widening once they lock on you, a shocked yelp coming from his mouth which he tries his best to cover up by clearing his throat.

"Jesus," he says as he reaches up to clutch his chest, his other hand pressing against the top of the counter. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," you reply, your voice barely audible. "I-I'm y/n," you tell him. "I'm the new hire." You look so nervous and Eddie thinks it's adorable, that you're adorable in your Family Video vest. God, he just wants to shrink you down and put you in his pocket so he can protect you from anything and everything.

"Right," he nods. Steve told him that someone new was starting to day, but he didn't think you'd be so pretty. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you to the back room." He comes out from behind the counter and leads you to the breakroom that also doubles as the place where you clock in and has a set of lockers where you can put your belongings.

He goes to open the door just as it's pushed open, Steve, the one who interviewed you and helped you through your training coming through it. He's wearing a Family Video vest while the stranger is not.

"Y/n," he smiles as he pushes the other man out of the way by his face. "So I see you've met Eddie, who really needs to put his vest on," he glares at Eddie who sighs and heads over to the counter to begrudgingly put his vest on.

"Now, let's get you clocked in and then we'll go from there, alright?" He asks and you follow him into the breakroom where you clock in then put your purse into your assigned locker.

Once you're all set, you exit the breakroom and find Steve behind the counter where Eddie is also standing. Steve waves you over and you go behind the counter to meet them.

"So, Eddie is going to show you how to do the register while I work on some paper work in the office. If you have any questions, just ask Eddie, alright?" You nod and Steve heads to the office, leaving you alone with Eddie.

You both stand there awkwardly and Eddie notices that your hands are shaking and god, does he want to take them in his and press kisses to them, doing whatever he can t get rid of your nervousness.

"Here," he says, hesitantly taking a step closer to you. "Why don't we take some deep breaths, hm?" He breaths in and and you mimic him, holding it until he lets it out and you follow. He doesn't even know you and he's doing what he can to make you feel better.

"Are you ready to start or do you need more time?" He asks and you nod, your shaking lessening ever so slightly.

"I'm ready," you nod and he smiles, showing you his teeth before turning to the register in front of the both of you. He shows you how to work it, being nothing but gentle as he does so, being sure to check in every once in a while between customers.

He was hesitant about having a new coworker, but now that you're here, he doesn't want to let you go. He's even excited to work with you. And after Steve locks up at the end of the night, Eddie insists on walking you to your car.

He's got his hand on the small of your back and to his surprise, you let him, feeling secure with him behind you, protecting you in the dark of night in the abandoned parking lot.

You like him, maybe more than you should considering the fact that you just met him, but he's been so kind and patient with you unlike other coworkers you've had. A lot of them didn't like how softspoken and shy you were, but Eddie understands and besides, your voice being so quiet only gives him more of an excuse to lean closer to hear you.

"Are you working tomorrow?" He asks and you just nod as you put your key into the ignition and start it up.

"Good," he nods. "I'll see you then, y/n. Drive safe, okay?" You wave and Eddie turns on his heel, running into Steve as he does so.

"You're sweet on her, huh?" Steve asks in a teasing tone as Eddie takes his keys out of his pocket as he heads to his van. Steve follows, wanting hear what he already knows the answer to.

"What makes you say that?" Eddie asks even though he totally is and he knows it's obvious.

"Nothing, just that you've been so nice to her, and not that you're not nice usually, but this is different."

"Bye, Steve," Eddie waves his hand in the air as he gets to his van, wanting to put the conversation to an end. He doesn't want to hear what Steve has to say and he most certainly doesn't want him in his business. Steve may be his friend, but Eddie doesn't talk to him about this kind of stuff and he's not gonna start now. Whatever's going to happen between the two of you is your business and your business alone, no matter how much Steve tries to butt in.

[quodo-brainrot]

@tuttle-did-it I'm with you on Troi. I really want to like her because the idea of a counselor who is an empath is pretty awesome, but she doesn't even use her empath powers as much as she could when she's counseling people. I'm not a therapist and I've never been to therapy, but I get the sense that the 'therapy' she gives people is little more than armchair psychology.

And yes, they do have to simplify it for the audience, but the simplification of her methods isn't the biggest problem - it's that her therapy simply doesn't seem to work, even when it's made clear that she spends a lot of time working with someone offscreen. It feels like the only purpose that her on-screen therapy sessions serve is so that we can have a place for certain characters to let out their emotions.

Barclay is a prime example of a character who is not going to talk about his feelings anywhere other than in a therapy session because he's too afraid of being judged elsewhere, so those sessions are the only place we get to see what's really eating at him. So it helps the audience, but does it actually help him?

Not really. Barclay is still noticeably a mess at the end of TNG and even into Voyager. And it's true that not everyone responds well to therapy and he might just be one of those people, but I think it's much more likely that the help Deanna gave him wasn't really much more than what you could get from an attentive and caring friend. And it is good to be able to get that kind of help to take the edge off, but trying to present it as the work of the supposedly amazing counselor on the Federation Flagship is kind of laughable.

Dr. Crusher, or any other medical officer, easily could have given people all the same advice that Troi did. I think it would have been much more interesting if Troi's position on the ship was purely for diplomatic and strategic purposes. Imagine if they ditched the 'counselor' angle entirely, gave her a bit of a hard edge and made her as much of an expert on emotional patterns as Uhura was an expert on language patterns.

Instead of just saying 'I sense anger,' imagine if Troi was capable of producing accurate assessments of a hostile's motivations and goals based on the interplay of their emotions, even when it's her very first time encountering a given species.

But unfortunately, the show quite deliberately leaned away from that idea on multiple occasions, as the characters had to explain 'oh no no no, it's not immoral for us to have an empath helping us because we don't use her powers aggressively' or whatever.

I always thought that was a pretty silly thing to do. Why would anyone even bat an eye at the Enterprise having an empath anyway? Realistically, that crew would likely have several empaths. There are many species out there who are empathic and/or telepathic. It's weird that the default reaction is to suspect some sort of moral failing on the part of the Enterprise for using a resource that's actually pretty readily available in the scheme of things.

But if Troi did use her empathic powers to their full potential, it would make it a lot harder to write episodes that involved deception and intrigue. She'd be able to end the plot pretty quickly. I think that's one big reason that they never really showcased her powers as much as they could have.

DS9's Odo suffers from a similar issue in that he'd be WAY too powerful if he could accurately mimic humanoid faces, so as that one post in the DS9 fandom hilariously puts it, Odo is a shapeshifter who's kind of bad at it. But there are legitimately interesting plot points made specifically out of the fact that he's kind of bad at it, and in addition to that, there's a lot more to him as a character than just his shapeshifting powers.

Unfortunately, Deanna didn't get the same treatment. The show tries to set her up to be this really awesome counselor but the results we actually see are pretty mediocre. And the only other role she ever really gets to play other than 'empath' is 'love interest.' Which is a real shame, because I really liked the air of calm and the gentle mischievous humor that Sirtis brought to the character. She could have been so much more compelling if she'd been more fleshed out.

star trek characters will literally go through the most life changing traumatic multidimensional extrasensory eldritch hell torture imaginable and then they're fine and the next episode they gotta deal with a guy who is bald

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 2/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

>PART ONE<

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

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

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

“I’m bored.”

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

He’d had fun last night, though.

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

He really felt like you were connecting.

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

He had thought he knew you, before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, you’d give me mouth to mouth?”

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

“And you always do what people tell you?”

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

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

Touché.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s probably going to regret this. 

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think that’s what he’s doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hypocritical?”

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re friends.”

“You think we’re friends?”

“You don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, well the water was choppy,”

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

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

“Is that a problem?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve never talked to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You never gave me a chance to.”

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

“So could you.” You frown. 

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

“When you were dressed as Scooby Doo?”

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

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

“You wanted me to try again?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What am I supposed to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not getting in there!”

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell did you do that for?”

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

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

“Oh, look, a fish!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You-,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are a bunch of texts from his brother.

Where are you at?

Did the demon get you in your sleep?

Where’s the boat?

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

You’re dead either way when you get back!

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

“Sorry if I got you in trouble.”

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

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

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

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

He would have kissed you.

At least, he thinks he would have.

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

But he’ll never know, now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell are you talking about?”

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

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

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

You never talked to me.

You never gave me a chance.

You never tried again.

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

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

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

“Trust me, I won’t.”

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

You can always tell when it’s Luke though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your brothers own it, actually.”

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

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

“Is that supposed to turn me on?”

“The problem, Luke, get on with it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why can’t you be on watch for once?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope, we’re gonna follow them.”

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

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

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

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

There’s something brewing between the two of you. 

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

“So what’s the plan?”

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

“And how are we supposed to stay hidden?”

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

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

Not that he was paying that close attention.

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

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

—

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

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

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

“Maybe she said she had parts to buy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re kidding, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that you’re friends.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t miss him.

That would be ridiculous.

Luke Hughes is annoying. 

His taste of movies is annoying.

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

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

Or not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

M&Ms. Your favourite.

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

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

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

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

And he smells good, too.

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

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

“I know.”

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

“I didn’t.” 

“Okay then.”

“Alright.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, what’s that?”

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

He’s not gonna catch you out, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was-,”

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

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

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

“His name is Happy-,”

“I didn’t ask.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hughes, you big lump, wake up!”

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

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

“I need a favour,” you whisper.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not wearing pants.”

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

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

“I don’t either.” 

“What if there’s a fire?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His heart jumped every time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is heated, and intentional, and intense. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna give you a hand.”

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

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

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

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

“Are you high or something?”

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

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

“No?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You hate indoor pools.”

“The sauna?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I’m wearing her down.”

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

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

He does. At least he thinks so. 

You feel weird.

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

Well, weird and off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it isn’t Ellie.

It’s your dad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And resentment bubbles within you.

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

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

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

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

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

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

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

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

“Jesus, what do you want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re one to talk.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that what he said?”

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

That isn’t true. 

That’s not who you are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You never did like falling.

“I want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not like you don’t want it, too.

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

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

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

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

A voice that tells you, you know nothing.

[avelera]

(Arcane Meta) The Staggering Timeline of the Hexgate Construction

The Hexgate timeline is insane, guys, it's actually insane.

So I'm writing a Jayvik fic set in the time skip between 1.03 and 1.04. Most people agree that time skip was about 6-7 years long.

During 1.04 "Progress Day" Jayce says "a few years ago", the Hexgates opened to the world. The year before, we learn from the Enforcer Caitlyn is talking to that Jayce launched a blimp "half way across the continent" which sounds like a demonstration of increased range for the Hexgates.

At some point, I would guess early in Jayce and Viktor's partnership, they also did the Distinguished Innovators competition where they needed to notch their own gears and, presumably, didn't have a lot of assistants or assistance. I only note this to point out that there was at least a year or so at the beginning where they weren't immediately thrust into limelight yet and they didn't have every resource available.

So just because Mel was buying into their vision on Day 1, doesn't mean the whole city had yet. They probably needed to prove an application for Hextech first before that happened and, likely, the Hexgates was what they came up with and that's the one all of Piltover bought in on.

So, mostly likely sometime in the first year or so, Jayce and Viktor had to provide a proof of concept for the Hexgates. Let's say for the sake of argument that by the first Progress Day of their partnership, they have one.

Progress Day / Year of Jayce and Viktor's partnership

(Let's go through the timeline)

Year 1 - Hexgate proof of concept developed and presented. Up to that point, Hextech exists and has Mel's support, but Jayce and Viktor still haven't proven themselves enough to get all the resources they'll need to build something like the Hexgates. The Distinguished Innovators competition takes place somewhere around this time. Maybe they presented the Hexgate proof of concept there (pure speculation on my part but you'll see why I think the first few years had to be laser focused on the Hexgates over anything else for any of this to make sense.)

Year 2 - Hexgates under development.

Year 3 - Hexgates under development.

Year 4 - Hexgates open to the world.

Year 5 - Hexgate distance capacity increased.

Year 6 - Events of Arcane

By the way, I say only one year to develop a prototype, it could have taken longer. But, the Progress Day post-time skip in 1.04 could be 7 years later. So all the approximations up there should be taken as "give or take a year".

Still, that means that within 3-4 years at most, Jayce and Viktor went from this proof of concept that Hextech is viable at all:

To this:

And can I say just as an archaeology nerd obsessed with stone crafting and material cultures, holy shit, do you have any idea how quickly they must have built the Hexgate tower to have it done in 2-3 years? The Empire State Building, which offers us a decent parallel for the technology available in the world of Arcane at this point, took a 1 year, 45 days, it was considered the fastest a skyscraper had ever been constructed at the time.

But the Hexgate tower is more than just a building, this thing goes all the way down into the bedrock, it is lined with Hex crystals. It has that giant globe on the top for pinpointing where to send the ship. It's not just a building, the entire thing is an engineering marvel. And it has to have been done in under 3 years to fit the most generous version of the timeline.

This would, realistically, require incredible buy-in by the entirety of Piltover society. We're talking multiple guilds vying for contracts, red tape being cut by the mile to secure the space, deep excavation beneath it, shipping to bring in materials, endless amounts of masons, metalworkers, and artisans. It's doubtful that Jayce and Viktor slept during those years. The sophistication we see within the Hexgates makes it even more mind-boggling.

Seriously, look at the base of this thing! This is the failsafe, it had to exist before they opened up the Hexgates to the world! It can't be an afterthought or a later addition!

And this Hex crystal-lined channel goes up for miles! (not literally but get my point) It needs sophisticated technicians to operate and switch out the cores!

Now, of course a Doylist explanation, the Hexgates are as sophisticated as they need to be and were built as quickly as they needed to be built in order to serve the plot, and Piltover is as technologically sophisticated as is needed for these to be built in the time required.

But, Watsonian, as someone who can't help but look at building materials and think about just how much time and effort it would take a society that looks vaguely 1880s-1920s (I would say the 1.04 Progress Day is deliberately invoking the Chicago World's Fair of 1893) it is utterly mind-boggling to me how much labor and materials and effort would have to go into building the Hexgates in a 2-3 year period. That's moon launch levels of an entire society mobilizing for one goal.

No wonder Jayce got framed as the Man of Progress, the entire city must have been working on or known someone who was working on making the Hexgates a reality in that time.

[pinksugarscrub]

You all are so sweet. Thank you so much for spending this year with me 💜.

@the-kr8tor Not to get to sappy but thank you for always being a friend. When I write I think of you. You are an inspiring wonderful person who has added to my life. Your heart knows no bounds and the community you've made, we've all made together, will always be family to me.

@hyperfix-wip Thank you for matching my freak. Thank you for being a friend. You are the first person I info dump to about everything and anything. I hope I show you how much I appreciate you and your life.

@rexlroze You, you are my blueberry pie with cinnamon and vanilla ice cream.

@yumeaoka-chan The poetry you come up with, hot dang. I'm glad to be developing my skills and creativity with you. I can tell you put a lot of thought into your words and that is inspiring beyond belief.

@sluggyboiyo The fact I know you will match the silly goofiness I give you. Thank you for being a friend and helping me feel like a real writer.

@thats-a-mushroom You are the kindest person I know here. Thank you for all of the effort you have put in and I admire the work you create. Keep going my love!

@pleaktale Yet another wonderful person who matches my freak and makes jaw dropping crispy art.

All my love to the lovely amazing people who read and commented on my work. I loved hearing your thoughts and I keep all of you in mind when I'm cooking up my next piece. You have no idea how much it means to me that you find the time and energy to listen to me and how I perceive our favorite characters. @bokuchai @hao-ming-8 @tired-robo-mask @klia29 and many more 🫶

@animated-scribble @y0ur-f4vor1te-crypt1d @kartsstuffig @44-mr-midnight-44 @silver-eater @free-slug-cat @my-mom-named-me-duck @softenedsunbeams @ccosmicentity @starsofthestorm @jaime-in-chaos @ the person who sent me this (i cant remember your url so sorry man) @ UHM UHM I FORGOT URLS

[lukolabrainrot]

End of Year PSA and Thank You

As 2024 comes to a close, and I know it's NYE in some parts of the world already, I wanted to talk about a few things:

Privacy PSA

i just want to say that yesterday is everything I hate about this fandom. It was disgusting and unacceptable behavior. Period. No argument. It is not alright to go on private spaces and share information to the whole world WITHOUT PEOPLE'S CONSENT. And what did you prove?? NOTHING!! Except that you're a shitty person who likes to invade people's privacy... Karma comes back to bite people, remember that.

No wonder L hardly shares ANYTHING anymore. I'm honestly shocked L OR N even have public SM accounts anymore after the BS of this year tbh. WE COLLECTIVELY NEED TO DO BETTER AND GIVE THESE PEOPLE SPACE AND PRIVACY. Focus on what they publicly share, and eventually we will publicly have answers.... Do not go on a witch hunt to try and "prove" your point, THAT YOU CAN'T EVEN PROVE!

The events of yesterday is another big reason I haven't been posting as much. This fandom has just turned SOOOO toxic, and honestly, I could write a whole psychology dissertation on why that is... but y'know what, it has almost NOTHING to do with L or N. But people are dumping ALL this stuff on them, and still claiming to be their "fans". L/N is what brought all of us together. And with the state of the world, I think there is something truly positive about the energy L/N put out there when they are with each other that really resonates with a lot of people and makes them happy and more hopeful. But L/N are their own people, and we'll get confirmation at some point about the big things in their lives. We can't force it, even if we're feeling frustrated at times.

So as the year comes to a close, let's think about the following... If you call yourselves fans of L and N, think about the energy you want to put out in the fandom, and think about how you would want to be treated if you were in L or N's position (or their family members' positions). And if you're just around to create chaos or shit on people, it's time to do some internal processing of your past and go to therapy and heal.

Now, on to the more positive part of this post...

2. Thank You to All My Followers

I want to say I am truly grateful to all my followers on here! I have over 1,300 followers atp, and I barely post anything anymore 😅 I was going through my own stuff earlier this year when I stumbled upon the Lukola magic in May, and then I was just hooked. I decided to start the blog because I had a LOT of things I wanted to talk about regarding these two. And although there is a lot about this fandom I really don't care for, I have met some amazing people on here through our mutual interest in L/N, have had some amazing conversations, and this whole experience has had a significant impact on me. I will always remember this year as the year of Lukola lol

As we move into 2025, I likely will not be posting as much until we get more substantial information related to L/N. I'll still post when I'm able though, and my Asks are always open ❤️️

Wishing everyone a happy New Year!! 🥂

[cheeseceli]

Late wait

Pairing: idol!Lee Know × Gn!reader (established relationship)

Genre: fluff, domesticity, drabble

Request: Lee know with a "waiting for us" kinda vibe. Just being together in their own place with lots of domestic fluff. Dancing whenever, seeing movies whenever...

Warnings: mentions of food, Minho is an idol, the cats and the boys are here as well, reader and him live together

A/n: I simply love to write domestic moments | daily click

Minho finds it funny how the most beautiful things in life are always the simplest.

Coming from someone whose life is full of luxuries, he could understand why someone would be skeptical about his statement, but he couldn't be more truthful than that.

He already saw thousands of different people, dressed in fancy suits and drank expensive wine. The places he already went to were sometimes covered in gold, and if not, they'd have a red carpet and sculptures everywhere. He's not going to lie and say these things are bad, or that he despises them. On the contrary, actually. However, when you live a life of "too much", you learn how to appreciate what is simple.

His cats stepping on his face to wake him up. All the times he went somewhere random to camp. Seungmin's burnt barbecue and Felix' brownies. You. All the things that made his life easy.

As much as he loves all those things, maybe he should highlight you a little bit more. It's only fair, since you are the one who plays the major role in making him feel alive.

When Minho thinks about you, he thinks about how he loves to wake up early before some morning schedule and see how you're sleeping peacefully next to him. You always ask him to wake you up before he goes, but he never finds the strength in himself to disrupt your dreams. You have a whole collection of little notes he put next to the bed, apologising for not saying bye, but promising to bring food whenever he's back.

He also remembers dance nights. As he is a professional dancer and an idol, he thought he wouldn't want to move a single muscle the moment he gets home. However, whenever he comes home to you singing some random song on the radio, it's impossible to not hold your hand and start swaying according to the rhythm. You don't know how to dance. When he's with you, he suddenly forgets how to as well. In the end, it's just two fools in love, dancing how your heart tells you to.

Movie nights where none of you had luck picking what to watch, so you'd just sleep mid the boring show. Cooking homemade dinner and noticing you ran out of all the ingredients, so you have to run to the market. Visiting his parents every Sunday. Staying in the entire weekend with the cats because that's so much better than going out.

There are dozens of little moments like those that Minho could talk about. None of them was particularly special - they were all things that happened every day. Maybe that was the magic of it. Living was easy with those moments, with you.

Now he was coming back home. The day was full of different events. Tiring, extravagant, but nice. He was smiling. But now he only wanted to come home to you. He knew you were staying up late so you could welcome him and ask him how the day was. And as much as you've waited, he'd hug you with his entire being and never let go.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: kiss me (more)

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs @rockstarkkami @urlocalmultigroupfan (those I couldn't tag are in bold)

Dividers by @adornedwithlight | images 1, 2 and 3

[xoxoavenger]

I just read all of your Thomas Shelby x reader and i fell in love with all of it 😍

I honestly don't have any idea or specific request for you but i will send you these GIF in hope that maybe they will spark something for you to write.

Now that i have pick these i kinda realize i want some more hurt comfort 😅

thank you so so much! I'm glad you love them. I really locked in for this to try and get an idea, so hopefully you like it!

Up The Duff

pairing: Tommy Shelby x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

word count: 2536

warnings: pregnancy, hurt w/ comfort :)

"Good of you to join us." Y/N said to Ada when she finally walked into the main room. She and Polly were having tea, gossiping about practically everyone in Birmingham.

"Where have you been all day?" Polly asked in a much flatter tone than Y/N had, looking into her tea as if she were preemptively reading the leaves through the liquid.

"In bed." Y/N raised her eyebrow while Polly picked up a news paper, sharing a look with Ada. Oh, Ada had been in bed alright; in bed with Y/N's cousin. But, Y/N was in bed with Ada's brother, so she couldn't really say anything.

She kept Ada's secret well, and for awhile, Ada kept Y/N's secret. That was, until the entire Shelby lot had walked in while Thomas had her bent over the desk, clawing at the wood like an animal.

It took quite some time for her to gather the courage to look any of the Shelby's in the eye.

"Couldn't sleep. Then I couldn't wake up. Then I was cold, and then I had to go for a wee." Ada was cutting herself some bread, and Y/N rolled her eyes as she over explained everything. "Then I was with this bear on a boat, but that was just a dream. Then I was hungry." Ada sat down across from Y/N, who sipped her tea and looked at Polly. "I've never seen you read the paper, Pol." Ada said as she put jam on her toast.

"The BSA are on strike. The miners are on strike. IRA are killing our boys, ten a day." Polly gave Ada a look, the younger girl simply licking the jam off her fingers.

"What?" Ada asked, looking between Y/N and Polly.

"Stand up," Polly told Ada, making Y/N raise an eyebrow once more.

"Why?" Ada asked, and Y/N tried to follow Polly's reasoning. She wasn't getting anywhere.

"Just stand up." Polly instructed. Y/N stood with Ada, going around the table to stand behind Polly as Ada wiped her hands. "Side on," Not even a moment later, Polly was grabbing Ada's breast, Y/N and Ada both letting out a gasp.

"What are you doing, Pol?" Y/N asked, walking up beside her. The older woman paid no mind to Y/N.

"Ada, how late are you?" Y/N's eyes widened. Was Ada pregnant?

Ada crossed and uncrossed her arms. "One week." Good, not too bad. Still a chance. "Five weeks." Ada said at the silence. Y/N looked a Polly, who was still looking at Ada. "Seven if you count weekends. I think it's a lack of iron." Ada tagged onto the end, and Y/N almost lost her breath. She knew Freddy and Ada had sex, but they weren't married, and she never thought this would have been the outcome. Polly sat down, and Ada sat next to her, causing Y/N to be on the outside behind them.

"What about those tablets?" Y/N asked, hoping to help.

"They didn't work, did they?" Polly asked, a sympathetic look on her face.

"No," Ada shook her head, and Y/N sighed. "I blame Y/N for my lack of notice. We're synced, and she hasn't asked for anything in two months, at least." It was quiet in the room as they all realized what Ada was saying.

"What? I just started buying my own." She lied, crossing her arms.

"No," Polly said, looking Y/N up and down. "Not both of you. Not two Shelby's." She begged, making the sign of the cross.

"I'm not a Shelby." Y/N informed Polly, as if she hadn't already known.

"You might as fuckin' well be!" She yelled out, making Y/N look around.

"I am not pregnant!" She yelled, taking a deep breath and calming herself down as Ada and Polly stared. She looked around, glad all the men were out. "I am not pregnant." She walked around the table and sat at the space across from the Shelbys.

"At least I've come to terms with it." Ada muttered, making Y/N scoff.

"We might not be pregnant. Just," She paused as she tried to think of a reason why her and Ada would be almost two months late.

"That's it," Polly hit the table, even though no one was talking.

"What's it?" Thomas asked as he walked in. Y/N's heart basically stopped beating for a moment, and she swore she was going to throw up.

"Y/N just came up with a new idea for jam." Ada covered, reaching over Polly to grab her toast. "Nothing special."

"Right." Thomas paused, turning to Y/N and nodding. She nodded back, giving a small smile to him. "I just came to pick up Y/N so she could get ready for our date tonight." Thomas walked over to Y/N, grabbing her hand and helping her up. His hand then went to the small of her back, and she smiled up at him.

"Oh, but she just agreed to go out with us." Polly feigned sadness, and Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, we were going to go to the new pub." Ada added, causing Y/N to squint. She didn't make any plans, and they had no reason to go out tonight.

"Oh?" Thomas questioned, and Y/N licked her lips.

"Uh, yeah," She wasn't sure the reason Polly and Ada wanted to go out, but she could guess that it had to do with their recent discoveries. "Sorry. I forgot we were going out." She bluffed, looking up again at Thomas. He cocked his head slightly, looking down at her.

Oh shit. He has to know.

"Right," Thomas looked at his family then, putting his free hand in his pocket. "Well, in that case, I will just be stealing her for the afternoon." He began to usher Y/N out, the two barely able to utter goodbye at Thomas' pace.

"Tommy, slow down!" Y/N said, tripping over her heels as they stepped out the door. He caught her, continuing all the way to the car. He helped her in as fast as he possibly could, practically pushing her across to the passenger side. "What was all that?" She asked as Thomas started the car.

"I think I should be asking you the same question." He responded, pulling into the street and driving down the road to her apartment.

"Why?" She asked, leaning against the door as she looked at Thomas. His side profile was something she could admire on a daily basis, and today was no exception.

"What was Polly talking about when I came in?" He cut straight to the chase, and she licked her lips as she shifted to face the windshield.

"The jam?" Y/N questioned, trying to stall.

"I'm not buying that shit." Thomas told her, glancing at her quickly before looking back at the road. "Just tell me what you were really talking about." He put a hand on her thigh, making her insides heat up. She forgot what they were talking about for a moment until Thomas hummed in question.

"It really was jam." She said innocently, nodding as if he were watching.

"Right," Thomas nodded, licking his lips and clearing his throat. "And this jam, what's the idea?" He questioned, still not moving his hand.

"The idea?" Y/N repeated, trying to think of something, anything, to tell Thomas.

"Yes, that's what I said." He told her, turning onto her street.

"Of course," She looked out the window; she didn't know the first thing about jams.

"Do you even know the ingredients to make jam?" Thomas asked, causing Y/N to scoff.

"Why would I have an idea for jams if I didn't know the ingredients?" Yes, this was good. She was getting him off topic.

"That's what I'm asking." He told her, not even seeming angry as he pulled up outside her building. She hopped out and met him on the other side, letting him hold her hand and lead them into the building.

"D'you want some tea?" Y/N asked as she opened the door to her apartment.

"Ah, best not. Where did Pol say you girls were going tonight?" Thomas asked, taking his hat off as he entered her small room.

"Oh, ya know, out and about." She said, pouring some water into the kettle to heat it, even though Thomas had said he didn't want any tea. She had forgotten the lie that Polly had made up already, and it made her heart sink.

"Ah, the Garrison?" He asked, taking a cigarette out and putting it in his mouth. Y/N turned, trying not to let her eyes widen.

"Could you not smoke in here, Tommy? It's a small room." She requested, walking up and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, replacing it with her own lips. He responded in kind, hands traveling to her side.

"What's really going on?" Thomas asked as they parted, causing Y/N's brain to come back much faster than she would have liked.

"What do you mean?" She whispered against his lips, trying to distract him again. Thomas was unfortunately strong willed, and he stepped back slightly.

"Come on, love. I know you don't make jam, and I know you and Ada and Pol aren't going to a pub tonight. Why're you lying to me?" He looked genuinely upset, and Y/N took a deep breath, turning back to the kettle as it whistled. As she was pouring the water, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek and pressing his face close to hers.

"Tommy," She whispered, tears in her eyes. "Tommy, I'm late." She muttered, letting a tear fall from her eye as she put the kettle down.

"Late?" He asked, and Y/N could tell he didn't understand because he hadn't tightened his arms or moved away.

"Yes," She said, not able to explain further.

"For," Thomas led off, leaning into her more causing her to spill some of her tea on herself. She hissed as she put it down, taking a deep breath.

"Tommy," She turned to him, looking up and watching his face fall as he realized she was crying.

"You're late," He said in understanding, taking a deep breath. She nodded, more tears falling down her face.

"We're going somewhere tonight," She told him, not able to look at him. "To confirm it." She kept Ada's secret, knowing that eventually Thomas would figure it out and it wasn't her place to tell him.

"I see," Thomas let go of her and walked backward running his hands over his face as he looked out the window. He licked his lips, rubbing his hands together. "How, um, how long?" He asked, finally looking at her.

"I wasn't keeping track, but, um, probably two months. Maybe 3." Her voice got quieter as she said the last part, and Thomas just nodded, looking back out the window. He then grabbed his hat and wordlessly walked out of the apartment, leaving Y/N in shock. She fell softly to the the floor then, staying there until Ada and Polly came to pick her up.

~

Tommy wasn't sure what to do.

He was feeling a lot of emotions, and his heart hadn't stopped beating out of his chest for thirty minutes. He sat on his bed, his door locked, with his hands over his face as he tried to breathe. He didn't want to leave Y/N, but he didn't want to freak out in front of her either.

How could he be a father? He knew Y/N would be a good mother, but he wasn't so sure about himself. What if he fucked up this kid? He would never be able to live with himself. And his work wasn't the greatest; he wasn't sure if he would ever get to the point where kids would be a good option.

And God, Y/N. His sweet girl. It was his fault that she would go through this, that she would have to birth a child. Was she ready for it?

He should have stayed and talked with her, he realized suddenly. He ran down the stairs and back to his car, speeding to get to Y/N's. But by the time he had got to her apartment, banging on the door and begging her to let him in, he realized she had already left to go out with Polly and Ada. And he doubted they were going to a pub.

Shit.

~

He waited outside the door, sitting in the hallway and watching multiple people walk by before Y/N finally showed up, face free of any makeup and eyes swollen, probably from crying.

"Tommy?" He had his head down against his knees, and he jerked up at the sound of her voice. He took her in, wondering if she was angry at him for leaving, before hopping up.

"I am so, so sorry," He whispers, not sure what else to say.

"Let's go inside." She offers, unlocking the door before walking in. She'll definitely have to move in with him, because he doesn't like how there's only one lock separating her from someone that may want to hurt her in order to get to him. Just the thought makes him sick, and he locks the door as soon as he closes it. It's quiet as they both try to figure out what to say, neither of them looking at each other.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, putting his hands on his hips and then quickly crossing his arms instead.

"What?" She questions, not sure what Thomas was asking. She wasn't expecting that to come out of his mouth, especially after he stormed out.

"When you first had the idea that you were pregnant, why didn't you come to me?" He seems so hurt, so upset, and that makes Y/N even more sad. She looks away.

"I didn't know what you would do," She tells him, tears running down her face. She looks at the floor, rambling. "We're not married, and I know you're trying to build your business and I just-"

"Do you want to be?" He cut her off, stepping closer to her.

"Want to be what?" She asked, too caught up in her worries to understand what he was asking.

"Married." He told her, completely confident. She blinked at him, not sure if he was being serious or if he was drunk.

"Is that how you're asking?" She questioned, crossing her arms and smiling slightly.

"If that's what you want," Thomas told her, grabbing her left hand and getting down on one knee. "I would be honored to be your husband." Y/N took a deep breath, trying to think about her answer.

"Are you only asking me because I might be pregnant?" She muttered, tears falling fast out of her eyes. She wanted to marry Thomas, but she didn't want him to marry her just because she was pregnant. "Because you don't have to do that," She sniffles.

"I wouldn't." He tells her, shaking his head as he puts his other knee down. He pulls her in by the waist, and she lets herself be tugged toward him, her stomach reaching his face. She cards a hand through his hair, smiling slightly.

"We'll be okay." She whispers, smiling as Thomas looks up at her. He stands, wiping her tears and pulling her in for a kiss.

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @jbrownta

[thebiggerbear]

@winchestergirl2 awww thank you so much for checking this out, hun!!! You know I always love reading your thoughts. 😊

I LOVED it!! I could picture it all so clearly, and it felt like I was watching the episode.I really like the way she interacts with both of the Shaw brothers. I thoroughly enjoyed the whole food truck scene... I could hear the bickering between her and Colter, and how she pinched his coffee, and his fries just to annoy him made me smile. His responses were exactly as I imagine they would be.

This is exactly what I always strive for when writing so I am so happy that you think it achieved that effect while reading!!!

Not a lot gets past him, does it, I do think it's sweet of him not to push that issue despite his obvious curiosity.

I have to admit that my favorite iteration of Russell so far is from the 1x12 episode. I feel like there's so much to build with him from that whole intro setup they did and we got to see glimpses of Soldier!Russell, too, and what truly matters to him. Not as some cartoon caricature if that makes sense (I wasn't a fan of his season 2 episode but I blame that on the change in showrunners...here we go again, sigh). So I really wanted to dip into that so I'm really glad you clocked that. Russell definitely doesn't miss much. 😉

That phone call... 🔥🔥🥵🥵 and I also loved the fact he sent her that text once Colter had gotten back in the car... a man that can do both spicy and sweet!

Oh absolutely he does. 😉 And I'm glad you enjoyed the phone call. That was fun to write!!!

What a nice surprise to find Russell at your door!

That scene and the food truck scene were definitely my favorites to write!!! I wanted to go further at the end there but it felt as if I was getting away from what I was trying to accomplish (he he) so I cut it. More spiciness will be in the sequel, Within Limits, I promise.

Thank you so much for checking this out, my friend!!! I always look forward to your reviews and I love to hear your thoughts so thank you!!! 😊💖💖

Off Limits

Summary: When Reenie sends you to assist Colter with whatever he needs after getting arrested for breaking into a morgue in Virginia, you meet his older brother Russell for the first time. There's some flirting and definitely a mutual attraction there before you Colter sends you off. Little do you know at the time that Colter has warned Russell that you're off limits and that Russell has no intention of listening to said warning.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader; Russell Shaw x Female!PI!Reader

A/N: So I've had this idea in my head since I first saw the episode (and that whole food truck scene) and finally sat down to start writing it May 19th, the day we were all hoping Russell would return for 1x13 (no spoilers). I did change up the ending of 1x12 a little here. By the way, I love Colter and I'm only a few episodes into the season but he kind of gives a little fuckboi vibe to me (meant affectionately of course) so I decided to kind of play on that a little here. Not that Russell also doesn't seem to have that vibe here a little bit. (again, meant as affectionate) 😉 I may write a follow up to this to fill in/shade in more areas mentioned in here.

Anyways, this was a lot of fun to write and try to practice ratcheting up the UST a little between two characters. I'm not sure if I succeeded but it was still fun to try. 🥵

All unbeta'd.

Song while writing: Coming For You - Nuela Charles (you can probably guess what scene I was envisioning/writing with this one 🤷‍♀️)

Warnings: sexual tension; flirting; a little smut; language

Word Count: 9357

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You can also read on AO3

You pulled up to the area where two food trucks sat and tables were scattered throughout the center of it all. You quickly recognized Colter sitting there, eating, talking to someone sitting across from him. You softly groaned at the incessant pounding in your head, tenderly rubbing your forehead. Why had Reenie charged you with this? True, you owed her a favor (or four) but still, getting on a plane with only thirty minutes notice, no time to pack an overnight bag, and her insistence that you go and assist Colter with whatever he needed was a bit much. Even for her. 

But here you were, dressed in yesterday’s clothes, your hair up in a messy ponytail after you quickly combed your fingers through it, and feeling scuzzy after a long night spent on planes. That’s right. Planes as in plural. Reenie hadn’t even sprung for a non-connecting flight, though she’d tried to chalk it up to none of those being available when she’d booked the trip for you ASAFP. You’d been stuck in coach the entire time, which was fine (you were more than used to it) but you’d had the middle seat and then the aisle seat — both seating arrangements were pure hell. Needless to say, you may have indulged at the airport bar in between flights and ordered drinks while on both, putting it on your business card that you immediately wrote off as travel expenses in your head. Especially when one of the guys you were sitting next to (who thought he was the next young Robert DeNiro apparently) was intent on making conversation, filling you in on his romantic and sexual history (relayed through a ton of bad implied jokes of course), as if he thought that would be a selling point for you to immediately want to induct him into the mile high club (there was no way he was a member despite his many stories hinting to the contrary). No thank you. Not ever.

Thankfully, you were able to pick up some essentials when you finally arrived at your destination and used the airport bathrooms for a little clean up before grabbing a rental car. You still felt gross and in need of a shower, but you’d manage until you did what you came here to do and then your time would be your own again. You were sure you’d get a shower and a change of clothes somewhere in between there. 

So while the alcohol helped to ease the tension your sudden trip created, you were badly hungover. Yep, sadly you were at that age where if you even looked at a drink, you’d get a headache the next day. So while you had maintained a nice buzz, you were now paying for it. You took a deep breath, slipped on your sunglasses, and got out of the car. 

Colter saw you coming, surprise fleeting across his expression, before turning his full attention on you when you sat down next to him. “Oof. Rough night?”

Your answer was to flip him the bird which made him chuckle. You then yanked out the folder of files Reenie had thrown into a travel case for you and slapped it all down next to him. “There. Directly from Reenie. With my compliments. Not that I don’t have my own cases to work,” you finished in a mumble. You snatched his coffee, ignoring his frown, and took a deep gulp. You made an immediate face. “Ugh. How do you still drink this shit?”

“It’s coffee,” he informed you as he began peeking at the files.

“I know. How do you not put anything in it? Do you like the taste of bitter ass first thing in the morning? Wait, don’t answer that.” You slipped out an airplane shot you had snuck into your jacket pocket that you swiped from the drink cart as it passed by during your aisle seat fun, beyond desperate to ignore the chatty Cathy next to you (her name had literally been Cathy as you’d found out against your will). You immediately lifted the lid and dumped in the contents, picking up a fry from Colter’s plate and using that to stir things around quickly before tossing it in the grass behind you. You ignored the “hey!” sounding not too far from where the fry had most likely landed and took a generous sip of the warm liquid, nearly heaving a sigh of satisfaction as it settled into your stomach. Not exactly the hair of the dog but it would do for now.

Colter was shaking his head, watching you, and you immaturely stuck your tongue out at him, about to tell him to blow you when you heard a chuckle across the table. You turned to see the guy Colter had been talking to grinning over at you, amusement clear as day on his face. You lowered your glasses slightly and took in his features, noting his obvious attractiveness, and you would be loathe to admit that you wouldn’t mind meeting him in an airplane bathroom had he been the one sitting next to you on that ghastly flight. Almost as if he knew what you were thinking, his smile grew and those green eyes lit up in a way that was all too familiar to you, and also had you wondering if there were any public bathrooms around here that you could slip away to for a bit. After the long night you’d had, an orgasm or two might just be what the doctor ordered. 

You pushed your glasses back into position and gave him a smile right back. “And who’s this?”

Before Colter could answer, the man stuck out a hand towards you. “Russell Shaw, Colter’s older brother.”

Your smile dropped as your hopes were immediately dashed. Fuck. Not only was he hot in a very rugged type of way (right up your alley actually not that you’d ever admit that out loud) but he seemed like he would’ve been game for what you were up for, too. Dammit. You forced yourself to shake his hand and not be rude, all the while trying your best not to think about what those hands could do or how that rough, warm skin would feel like against yours. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The light in his eyes burned brighter. “Y/N. That is a beautiful name.” 

You couldn’t contain the eye roll at the obviously bad pickup line. Perhaps it was best that he was Colter’s brother. Not that you would’ve been doing much talking if he wasn’t, so his flirting skills wouldn’t have mattered. “So I’ve heard.” You cut that off at the knees. “Russell Shaw,” you drew out his name, remembering something Reenie had mentioned before you went through airport security. You yanked out another folder from your case, slapping it down in front of him. “Reenie insisted that I give you this and told me to tell you that you owe her quite a bit for taking care of those fines from Fish & Wildlife and something about a donkey in Tuscaloosa?” You glanced up at him in question. 

He chuckled, sounding nervous, and gave you a reassuring smile. “That’s not— The donkey thing was a misunderstanding.”

Right. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“No, really. We ran into a situation and we tried to free him when these cops saw us and—”

You held up a hand. “I really don’t need the details. It’s fine. But Reenie did say you should Venmo her.”

He pressed his lips together and dropped his gaze to the papers, nodding. “Sure. I’ll get right on that.” You studied him as he studied the paperwork and despite the suspicious donkey thing and your decision to already back off, you kind of wished he would get right on you. 

You heard a throat clearing next to you and turned to find Colter glancing between you, that frown on his face again. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes once more. Whatever, Colter had no business looking like that. He’d had his chance and he’d fucked it up, royally. Instead of giving that pretend jealousy shit the time of day, you snatched a few more fries off of his plate and glanced back and forth between the two men as you chewed. “You two look nothing alike, by the way.”

“He should be so lucky,” Russell teased his brother before turning that smile back on you. You almost wished you hadn’t indulged in an all night booze fest and had a fresh change of clothes. You must look like a wreck right now, more than what you’d seen in the rearview mirror earlier, and you probably smelled like one, too. Desperately trying to tamp down the images popping into your brain of this man underneath you and those hands of his gripping onto your hips, you stole more fries from the plate near you.

“Seriously, Y/N, why don’t you just go get your own food? The trucks are right there.” Colter hated it when you did this which is exactly why you did it. 

You arched a brow over at him as you chewed. “You buying?” When he didn’t answer fast enough, you snatched even more fries from him. “Didn’t think so.”

“I am,” Russell interjected, smirking over at you. “Just tell me what you’d like and I’d be more than happy to get it for you.”

His voice deepened on that last part and it made parts of you clench. You bet he would. Why the fuck did Colter have to have a brother? And why did it have to be this guy who was watching you like the Big Bad Wolf, looking like he would gobble you up the second you’d let him? Who had a roguish grin to match? Besides, based on what Reenie had said during your quick interlude at the airport, Colter’s brother had been hitting on her big time. She had warned you to tread carefully due to his connection to this case Colter was looking into. That his brother might try to charm his way into peeking at the files for his brother that you were carrying among other things, but this information was meant to go strictly into Colter’s hands. You were almost insulted at her implying that you weren’t a damn professional and that you were so easily led by your libido (it had been almost six months which was a damn drought for you). It was almost as if she knew you too well (she did).

Even though you didn’t plan on going there, at all, you couldn’t resist, lifting your sunglasses to your head, not caring how bloodshot or tired your eyes looked. “Anything I’d like?”

He leaned forward slightly. “Whatever you want,” he promised, the look in his gaze making the same vow but for something completely different.

You leaned forward, too. “Well, in that case…” When you noticed him moving an inch more towards you, hanging onto what you would say next, you grabbed his box of fries out from underneath him. You smirked triumphantly and plucked a fry in between your fingers, popping it into your mouth. 

Instead of getting annoyed like Colter had, he quietly laughed and seemed plenty entertained as he watched you pick up another fry that had red sauce partially covering it. “I should warn you. I’m a sriracha on fries kind of guy.”

You glanced at the fry and then back at him, shrugging. “Oh, I’ve had way hotter things in my mouth than this, trust me.” You never broke eye contact as you slipped the fry past your lips, not reacting in the slightest when the spicy taste came into contact with your tongue. Russell’s eyes darkened and you had the distinct feeling that if you weren’t in public right now and Colter wasn’t here, you’d be at serious risk of him testing that theory.

“Okay,” Colter interrupted. “Let’s focus on the case, please.” He almost sounded irritated which made you glance over to see him glaring in both yours and Russell’s direction. You laughed to yourself and continued eating your stolen fries and sipping your modified version of an Irish coffee. As much as Colter’s annoyance amused you, you were also grateful that he was reminding you why you were there. You needed to get your horny ass in check.

“So this is everything Reenie could find on them?” He asked.

You shrugged. Reenie hadn’t exactly given you all the particulars and you assumed that was purposeful on her part for whatever the reason. Not that it bothered you in the slightest; you had your own shit to worry about. Besides, she also implied Colter would fill you in on everything once you caught up with him.

He looked displeased and then shook his head at you. “Why did she even bother sending you?”

You got angry then. How dare he? It’s not like you wanted to be sent on this fun little errand at the whims of the lawyer who was hellbent on helping him at every turn. “Hey. I traveled on two annoying ass flights to get here, dealing with chatty old ladies and misogynistic perverts, to hand deliver you this shit and to assist wherever I can. Without any warning or time to even pack a toothbrush, I might add. All while I have my own caseload to work on, thank you very much. To help you out and fast. So how about a goddamn thank you instead of whatever this is?” You gestured towards him. He went to reply, but you cut him off. “And while you’re turning that ungrateful frown upside down, why don’t you tell me what exactly it is you’re working on?”

Russell spoke up then, prompting you to look over at him. “A buddy of mine went missing and we’re trying to track him down. His wife called me and asked me to look into it. Colter’s helping.”

That quelled your irritation slightly and you pressed your lips together. You could only imagine how sick with worry this guy’s wife must be; you knew that feeling all too well. “I’m sorry to hear it,” you offered, your tone as genuine and sympathetic as you could make it. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Colter watching you, his frown gone, now replaced by the same sympathy you were feeling. You hated it so you decided to ignore it. “How long ago did he go missing?”

“A few days back. He was returning home after a grocery store run but he disappeared from a gas station while filling up.”

Your brows furrowed. “Taken?”

Russell shook his head. “No. He ran off. It looked like someone may have been after him.” 

Colter slid over the file to you, nodding when you glanced at him questioningly. “Doug Thompson. Former military. Now working for these guys as a private contractor.” Well, now Reenie’s explicit instructions made more sense. 

You opened the file and skimmed the papers as quickly as you could. “Wow,” you murmured. “So these guys are no joke.”

“No, they’re not.” You glanced up to find Russell watching you, all traces of any flirtation and humor gone. “But I don’t think they have anything to do with it. I would’ve heard something if they did.”

Your brows arched in surprise, hearing what he wasn’t exactly saying. “You’re working with them, too?”

He gave you a nod. “I am. We do mostly private security, that kind of thing.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the disbelief in Colter’s expression. He wasn’t buying it either. “Which is code for black ops, am I right?”

Russell tensed. Bingo.

“Which means that whether or not they’re responsible, they’re most likely connected to what’s happening. If someone was really after your friend.”

His jaw tightened. “What makes you say that? It could be anyone.”

You shot him a look and shut the file. “Because I was engaged to someone who did this kind of thing and I know how these things work.”

You watched as his eyes widened slightly and he leaned forward, curious. “Was?”

Ignoring that question and no longer as curious about him, you tossed the file back over to Colter. “Bottom line is this firm is where you should be looking first. Carefully, though. We both know how they like to keep their secrets.” You gave him a thin-lipped smile and sipped your coffee, slipping your sunglasses back on and getting up to head over to the food truck behind him. On your way, you spied a young family nearby. The mother was feeding a baby, smiling as she watched her husband spin his kindergarten-age daughter in circles by the arms, making her giggle. You felt an all-too familiar lump forming in your throat but you forced it back down and continued your trek, coming to a stop at the back of a short line, intending on getting your own food. You weren’t really hungry but you needed a few minutes to regain your bearings before you could switch back into professional mode and be of any help to the brothers.

By the time you returned, Colter sent you a sympathetic glance which you promptly ignored and dug into the case as well as your meal. 

Colter sighed when your car pulled away. He had insisted you go check into a room and clean up while he and Russell made some calls, did some digging, and he would call you if something turned up. You had been only too happy to agree.

Russell turned back to him, after watching you drive off. “Oh, I like her.”

“Of course you do,” Colter muttered.

“Alright, you already gave me the sit rep on you and the lawyer. Now I need one for you and her.” He gestured in the direction you had disappeared in with his thumb. “And don’t hold back because she is…” He gave his brother the perfection sign.

Colter shook his head and wiped his hands with a napkin. “There really isn’t anything to report there, either. We had a…weekend about a year back when I was working a case in her town. Then I got a new case in the next state over and we went our separate ways. Nothing ever came of it.”

Russell continued chewing his fries that you had returned before you left, thinking it over. “There seems to be quite a bit of hostility between you two for just a casual weekend.”

Colter folded his arms on the table. “We didn’t end on the best terms.”

His brother chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “Bit of an understatement.” He then wiped his hands clean, too. “So, she’s fair game then, I take it?”

Colter shot him a glare. “No, she’s not. She’s off limits, too.”

“Come on, bro. You already said the lawyer was off limits.” He gave Colter a look. “Are you telling me you’ve got a thing for both of them? Because if you do, I wouldn’t blame you. They’re both—”

“It’s not like that,” Colter interrupted. “With Y/N, it’s… She’s been through a lot.”

Russell nodded and glanced back down at his food. “Yeah, I caught that.”

“The last thing she needs right now is a reminder of any of it.” Russell glanced up to catch Colter eyeing him sharply.

Russell got the message. He hadn’t addressed it at the time but he hadn’t missed it when you claimed to know how companies like Horizon worked or that you had been engaged to someone who worked for one of them. There was obviously a story there. And that combined with your change in demeanor when he mentioned Doug’s disappearance, you referring to your engagement in the past tense, and Colter’s protectiveness of you — Russell had a pretty good idea of what probably happened. It didn’t mean he didn’t like you, though. If he wasn’t mistaken, he had gotten the impression that you had liked him, too. But in the same vein, until he knew what he was working with, he didn’t want to do anything that might cause you to relive anything that you’d rather forget.

“You don’t plan to call her to help with any of this, do you?”

Colter shook his head.

Russell studied his brother, determining if that was the best option here. You were a PI and a damned good one if Reenie Green had sent you to help. It was obvious from his short interactions with the woman that she didn’t suffer fools and there wasn’t a single thing she missed. So he knew you had to be good at your job. Doug was still missing, Tracy was still worried, and they still weren’t any closer to finding any answers. It might be helpful to include you in this. Another pair of discerning eyes was always a good thing. In the end, though, Russell decided against saying anything. Instead, he asked, “So, you sure she’s off limits?” His brother gave him a glare and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m just kidding. I got it. Off limits.” 

He also didn’t mention that he had discreetly entered your number into his phone when you inconspicuously slid your business card over to him. At the time, he had thought you were giving him a greenlight to contact you after this was over, but now he realized you probably had known what Colter was going to do all along.

Instead, Russell mentioned the autopsy report he had stolen from the morgue and handed a copy to Colter to peruse. While he studied the paper, Russell discreetly sent you a message so you also had his number and so he could shoot you a text when the time was right.

You were in a store, grabbing some clothes to have for the next few days, not knowing how long you were going to be needed here, when your phone began to ring. One quick glance at the screen had you smirking. Russell Shaw. You had slyly given him your number earlier when Colter wasn’t looking, telling yourself you were making sure you were included in the case so you could do what you were sent here to do. But another smaller part of you had hoped the man would contact you for a whole other reason. You may not have been thrilled to learn what he did for a living but that little fact didn’t have to ruin any possible fun you two could have, right? 

Sure, you felt a little guilty because he was Colter’s brother but you were also a realist. There wasn’t anything happening with Colter and whatever had was never going anywhere. Plus that had been well over a year ago. In your mind, you were free as a bird. So, you made a move; now it was up to Russell to make the next one. And you were hoping this was it.

You slid the green button on your screen and put the phone up to your ear. “Russell Shaw,” you greeted, making sure your voice sounded something akin to warm honey slowly drizzling over some fruit. “I had a feeling you’d be calling me.”

“Could it have something to do with me texting you earlier that I’d call as soon as I had an update?”

“Tomato, tohmato.” Hearing his smooth chuckle come down the line, you continued to sift through a rack of shirts. “So, what can I do for you?”

“A lot it sounds like, if I’m being honest.” His voice had dipped in register much the same way it had in your presence before but the effect it had being spoken directly into your ear like this…well, it was a good thing you had already grabbed a half dozen pairs of panties to have on hand. While it took you a second to recover, you couldn’t help but smile. You had been right earlier; he was definitely interested.

A woman walked right past you and you lowered your voice further. “Do you plan to find out?”

“You bet your ass I will. As soon as I’m free to.”

Fuck. If you weren’t in the middle of a store right now, you may have just asked him to start talking dirty to you right there. You had only been on the phone with him for less than a minute and already you were digging your teeth into your lip to keep a guttural moan from escaping you. This man had you so turned on you were surprised that you could still see straight or that you hadn’t run to the dressing room to temporarily alleviate the fire he had started in your belly that was blazing a trail down in between your legs. That voice and the way he was using it right now…it was pure liquid sex being poured into your ear. Your irritation with Reenie had abated some when you met him, now it was all but gone as were any warnings she gave you about the man as well as the thought of his younger brother. “Good. I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Oh, I hope you do.” That didn’t make you clench down on nothing, not at all. If this continued, you would be in that dressing room in the next thirty seconds, guaranteed. You were already starting to get seriously aroused at the images playing in your head. 

“Trust me, there will definitely be some type of holding going on,” you promised. 

“Don’t I know it,” he nearly growled into your ear. Holy… That was it. You were on your way to the dressing room. The sign said only three items were allowed at a time but you didn’t give a fuck at the bulkload of items in your arm; this was an emergency.

But what he said next after quietly clearing his throat had you stopping in your tracks. “As much as I’d love to continue this conversation, I only have a limited window of time. But I promise, we will pick this up later.”

You nearly let out a whine of disappointment. You very much wanted to continue this conversation right now but it slowly was coming back to you that yes, there was currently a missing persons case that was supposed to be your first priority. His missing friend in fact. Your brain knew that was more important though your body was screaming for something else. He had promised though that you would continue this later, something you could keep in your mind’s eye at the end of this very long and fucked up rainbow. As long as he dove into your pot of gold at the end, you could hold out a few more hours. “You better,” you grumbled.

Another warm chuckle floated down the line.

You turned to another rack of shirts, aggressively working your way through it. “So you said something about an update?”

“Yeah.” You had to admire how quickly he switched gears. While you were still struggling to get your libido under control and you were irritated, he sounded completely professional and nonplussed, as if he hadn’t been just talking to you with that tone of voice or implying what he wanted later on. “I reached out to one of my contacts and we think Doug might be hiding out in a location outside of town. We’re on our way there now to check it out.”

Shame immediately filled you at the mention of his friend. Here you were, horny as hell, about to go take care of yourself in the dressing room a minute ago and possibly ask him to tell you in explicit detail what he’d like to be doing to you if he were there, and Doug was still missing. You were more professional than that — hell, you knew better than that. You shook off the remnants of the last few minutes and went right into work mode. “Alright, you want me to come along for backup?”

“I’d love to have you back us up, but, uh…” 

You frowned at the uncertainty suddenly coating his tone. He wasn’t one of those guys, was he? That would be severely disappointing if he was and quite the mood killer, not to mention his third strike against him. You needed to get laid but not that badly. Though you hadn’t gotten the impression that he was one of those misogynistic assholes who thought a woman didn’t know her way around the big scary noisemakers known as guns earlier. “But what?” You snapped.

“Colter thinks you should sit this one out.”

Your jaw tightened and you quickly moved away from the mother and daughter that had just moved near you, lowering your voice. “That motherf— I don’t give a flying fuck what Colter thinks. I am not being sidelined.” You fucking knew it. The minute you had heard what the actual case was, seeing Colter’s gaze of sympathy directed at you — you fucking knew he would try to pull this shit.

“I think he’s just worried about you. You know? After what you’ve been through…”

That pulled you up short. “Exactly what did he tell you?”

“Uh, not much. He just thought this kind of situation might hit a little too close to home.”

You muttered a curse under your breath and made your way to the cashier. Fucking Colter. You knew you should have never told him about what happened with your fiance. He was the type of guy who would keep that in mind every time something like this came up. Hell, you were pretty sure that was partially the reason he had bounced out of your apartment so fast at the end of the long weekend you’d spent together. Sure, he had snagged another case, but you would never forget the look in his eyes as he quickly dressed — the same look you had seen at lunch earlier. At that time, you had liked Colter and you didn’t think your past would be something that could be held against you. Even though your time together had been strictly casual, he had talked to you about his father a little bit and he had seen a picture of Nate in your living room. What were you supposed to do when he asked you about it? Lie? After he had just shared something so personal with you? After he had slept with you four times thus far? You weren’t ashamed of your time with Nate and you had loved the man, been ready to spend the rest of your life with him before he lost his. That was just a tragic fact in your life. Never in a million years did you imagine that not only would it kick someone out your door so fast but now it would prevent you from being able to do your job.   

“Is it?”

You had completely forgotten you were still on the phone, silently fuming about this sudden development. “Is it what?” You dumped your clothes on the counter and gave a nod to the cashier in return when she greeted you.

“Is it hitting a little too close?”

You decided to nip this shit right in the bud. “Okay, Shaw, you listen to me and you listen good. It doesn’t matter if it’s hitting too close as you put it, or not. I do my job and nothing gets in the way of that. Just because your asshat of a brother has apparently decided that I’m some fragile flower of a woman that needs protecting from my own feelings doesn’t mean shit. I’m damn good at what I do and I’m a fucking professional. You hear me?” You handed the woman your credit card, noticing she was giving you an approving nod. You had forgotten that she was hearing every word of this side of the conversation. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

That was all you wanted to hear. “Good. Now, when are you going to send me that location so I can meet you?” You took the bag from the cashier, quietly thanking her, and made your way out of the store. 

“Tell you what. We’re only about thirty minutes out. From where you are, it’s about an hour and a half drive. Why don’t you let us check it out first and if it’s no dice, you can meet us on the way back into town? We’ll regroup and work it together from there on out.”

You tossed your bag in the backseat of your car. “Shaw,” you growled. “What did I just say?”

“This isn't that,” he assured you. “It’s a matter of us working against the clock. We’ve got to get to Doug before the guys looking for him do. That’s all this is.” 

You placed a hand on your hip and unclenched your jaw. He had a point and you also heard what he wasn’t saying: you racing up there to meet them would only slow them down and Doug couldn’t afford that. “Alright, is there anything I can do to help from here?”

“Not at the moment but keep your phone on. Depending on how this goes, we may need to lock down an address and quickly. And for that, we’re going to need you. I’m assuming you have an FBI contact somewhere?”

You pressed your lips together and got into your car. “I know someone,” you confirmed. “He owes me a favor or two.”

“I really want to say something right now at the idea of you and favors and me being the one to close out that guy’s tab but I can’t. My window of time is closing in about fifteen seconds.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Pretty sure you just did.”

He cleared his throat one more time, affecting an even more professional tone than you’d heard from him thus far. “Got to go. Keep your phone on. I’ll text you as soon as I know what the situation is.” 

“Okay, will do.” You briefly closed your eyes, deciding the hell with it. “And, Russell?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful,” you quietly urged, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. Despite what you said to him before, hearing speak in a way that was similar to Nate had your nerves sitting a little bit on edge, now knowing what he and his friend Doug did for a living and what he and Colter could possibly be walking into. 

“Copy that,” he responded, making you realize that his limited window of time he mentioned had expired and he was no longer alone. Sure enough, you could hear the sounds of a car door shutting in the background.

“Keep me updated.”

“Will do. Talk soon.” Before you could say anything else, the line disconnected. Even though you’d heard the confirmation of why he had to go so quickly, a part of you irrationally worried for a second that you had probably scared him off. That your warning him to be careful only cemented whatever Colter had said about you to him and why the former wanted to keep you sidelined. You had meant what you said earlier; you were a professional and your personal tragedies would never get in the way of your job. But that didn’t mean that an age-old worry you’d had every time Nate had gone to work didn’t immediately resurface the minute you were faced with a similar situation. And even though you were pissed at Colter, you also didn’t want him to get hurt.

The moment you figured you had screwed yourself with Russell, and not in the good way, an alert sounded on your phone. You glanced at your screen and saw a new text message from the very man you had just been thinking about. 

“We’ve got this. I’ll text you the minute we’re done checking it out.”

A small smile formed on your face and you texted back a genuine “Thank you”. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and get your head back in the game. You still had to find a motel to check into and you also had to be ready in case they did end up needing that address Russell had mentioned. You quickly looked up motels on your phone, weeding out the ones with the worse reviews, and settling on a place. You fired up Google Maps and started the car, intent on getting a room and firing up your laptop to check on a few cases to keep you busy while you were waiting. That had always been the worst part for you: the waiting. Waiting for a phone call or text to let you know Nate was okay after a job even though he couldn’t tell you the details of said job. So you were determined to place your focus elsewhere but also be ready in case you were needed. 

You truly hoped the brothers found Doug alive at this location they were headed to and that the danger, if any, was minimal. That it was truly nothing the two couldn’t handle together.

Russell quickly hung up with you the minute Colter hopped back into his truck. His brother had stopped to get some coffee at Russell’s insistence though Colter had kept repeating they shouldn’t be stopping. When the latter didn’t immediately get out to go get the beverages after they parked, Colter arched his brows expectantly. Russell had given him a wide smile. “Mind getting it quick?” He waved his phone at the man, indicating he needed to make a call.

Colter looked less than pleased but gave him a nod, most likely assuming it was a call to one of Russell’s contacts that should remain unknown as his older brother had intended, and left. Russell removed his sunglasses and immediately pressed the phone icon next to your name, calling you.

Now, he definitely knew three things: you had lost someone to this type of work, you were a little bit of a spitfire and he liked you even more now, and he was definitely going to pay you a visit after he closed up this whole thing with Doug and got the man back to his wife in one piece. 

Sure, when he’d first seen you, you had been somewhat hostile but entertaining and you’d been a hot mess. One hell of a hot mess in his opinion. Then you’d been flirty, checking him out, and you had even stolen his fries to use them for implications that definitely hadn’t been lost on him (or Colter for that matter, the glare his brother graced you with when you weren’t looking he hadn’t seen since they were kids). Though he’d clocked your change in demeanor when Doug’s situation was brought up and hadn’t missed your evading his question about your engagement status, he couldn’t resist eyeing you up as you walked over to the food truck behind him, nearly whistling at the perfection he was staring at. Not to mention, he liked your spunk and that only made him want you that much more. Then when you plopped back down with your food, completely in professional mode and talking over the case quickly before Colter sent you off, he was even more impressed and he just knew he had to take his shot with you. Under him, over him, to the side of him — whatever you wanted, he was game. No matter what Colter had to say on the matter. Unless his brother had feelings for you, he was going for it the first chance he got.

Colter handed him his coffee, nodding at Russell’s thanking him. “You get anything?”

“Nothing more than we already know.” He placed his sunglasses back on and sipped at his coffee, feeling slightly bad for lying to his brother. He knew Colter’s ��off limits” was more about protecting you than it was anything else. But he also had just gotten his brother to start talking to him again, to work Doug’s disappearance with him, and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. Nothing within reason, anyway. So a little white lie needed to be told; he’d done it before and way worse. Besides, he also didn’t think it was fair that Colter didn’t allow you the decision of whether you wanted to be involved in this or not. While he could appreciate his little brother looking out for you like the good man he’d turned out to be, everyone deserved to make their own well-informed choices. Considering your ex had been former military turned private contractor, you more than knew what you were dealing with. You had made a good point earlier: your history shouldn’t impact the job you had come here to do. And far be it from Russell to be the one to stand in your way and keep you from doing just that. Plus, they could really use your help if this safehouse Ann had given them didn’t pan out. 

Colter nodded and backed out of the parking spot. “Onward to the safe house. No more stops, right?”

“Right,” Russell confirmed. While Colter was distracted, he discreetly adjusted himself. There had been a moment in your conversation there that he had been tempted to tell you just how hard your sexy-as-hell voice and heavy flirtation had gotten him. But he knew once he did that, there would be no going back and either he’d have to jerk off in his brother’s truck (which would just be awkward especially if Colter returned quickly) or he’d have to somehow sneak into the coffee shop and make his way to the bathrooms so he could rub one out in there. Though that might also prove to be awkward if anyone else walked in to overhear the absolutely filthy things he would be murmuring into your ear from a stall, all of the promises he’d make about what he wanted to do to that sweet body of yours as soon as he had the chance, the sounds of him whacking it echoing loudly in the small space along with his deep groans. There had even been once or twice he’d gently rubbed the bulge in his jeans as you talked, only backing off when it got to be too much and he was about to break, close to ordering you to go somewhere private where you could touch yourself as well while also making sure you could be loud enough so he could hear every amazing sound he knew you would make. Hell, when you’d laid down the law to him, he’d nearly unzipped his jeans and stuck his hand inside to get some relief right there. Not that he didn’t hear what you were saying, not that he didn’t respect it or you, but damn if that little bit of fire you’d thrown his way didn’t turn him on even more. When he had answered you with “Yes, ma’am” a part of him had definitely been saluting you, no doubt about it.

Then he heard someone talking to you in the background, presumably a store clerk since it sounded like you had been told an amount for whatever you were buying. He had the quick thought, or hope, that maybe you were in a Victoria’s Secret or one of those places, buying a little something for him to unwrap you out of later on. Realizing just how much lust had fogged up his brain during this conversation, he dropped his head back against the seat, shut his eyes, and compulsively swallowed. He was immediately determined to keep his cool for the rest of your chat, especially when he opened his eyes to see Colter holding the coffee shop door open for an elderly couple walking inside, coffee cups stacked in his other hand. From there, he’d kept things professional and brief, though he hadn’t been able to resist getting that one last tease in before Colter opened the door. 

And then he’d heard your warning, detecting a note of worry in it, so he’d done what he could to reassure you with the text message he just discreetly sent you. He appreciated the fact that while this case might be stirring up some feelings from the past, you still had gone ahead and told him to be safe. He knew it was meant for both him and Colter, you obviously knowing how dangerous the job could be, but he was still getting used to him being included in that group. It was a little strange for him if he was honest. Other than Tracy saying it when he would pick Doug up for a job and the occasional conversation with Dory where he mentioned he was about to go to work, there was no one else who told him to be careful, to be safe. He found he kind of liked the idea and that only increased his appreciation of your situation, especially now having an even better idea of what you might be currently experiencing. He was no stranger to trauma, that was for sure, and so he could only imagine the thoughts racing through your mind right now, you being pissed off at Colter or not, you having just met him or not. He didn’t intend to give you cause for any more worry. No, he intended to give you something else when all was said and done. He couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.    

But now — now, it was go time. He needed to clear his head and focus on the job. He needed to get Doug back to his wife alive. Colter had made Tracy a promise that both brothers were intent on keeping. And Russell had made you a promise, one he was determined as hell to see through. 

You were just leaving the bathroom wrapped in a towel, your hair damp and sitting on one shoulder after you just squeezed the water out of it, when you heard a knock on your motel room door. 

You frowned, wondering who it could be, thinking maybe it was Colter. He always had a way of finding you when that was the last thing you wanted him to do. Truthfully, you had bitched him out earlier when he called you to inform you that he had just successfully delivered Doug back home to his wife, alive and unharmed. He and Russell had found the man at the safehouse and he told them who he had been running from. While Colter didn’t share that information, you gathered from what he did share that it had something to do with a job he and Russell had done for Horizon in the past. You kept your mouth shut but you shook your head. You knew it. Doing that kind of work was always dangerous and always carried risks like that. 

They made the long drive back and now the case was closed. Something you already knew thanks to the text message Russell had sent you already confirming this but you didn’t let on to Colter that you knew. Instead, you proceeded to tell him to stop treating you like a fragile porcelain doll and from there it quickly became heated between you two. The conversation ended soon after with neither of you willing to budge and you let out an aggravated sigh when you hit the end call button. You were grateful he and Russell were okay, but the former could drive you up a wall sometimes. If you could go back in time, you would definitely have told him to get lost when he showed up on your doorstep that one Friday night.

That immediately made you think of Russell and you realized you hadn’t texted him back yet. Colter had called right after you received the text message, with you assuming they had just gotten back into an area with service, and he had told you they had Doug and he’d call again when they got him safely home. You had sat on pins and needles, trying to focus on your most prevalent case, but the worry gnawed at you. Colter’s tone had not been his usual calm, devil-may-care one. It was coated with concern, not something you heard from him too often. So you had been distracted until Colter called you again and then the rest was history.

You slid over to Russell’s name on your screen and tried to call him but it went straight to voicemail. A different worry began to gnaw at you this time, the worry that you had indeed scared him off earlier. He had thought twice about it and decided you weren’t worth getting involved with, not even for the casual one night stand. The disappointment sat in your chest for a moment until you got angry. Between the argument with Colter and now Russell bailing on the plans he had implied to you that he wanted to keep, you were done. You hopped up and grabbed the bottle of whiskey you had purchased earlier, twisted off the cap, and took a swig. Well, it looked like it would be another dry night for you and your trip out here had been a complete waste. Colter hadn’t wanted your help and now you weren’t bumping pelvises with his hot older brother either so it was a lose-lose for you. As usual.

You swigged some more whiskey before deciding it was time for that shower you had been craving since this morning. Sure, you could take care of yourself in there and it might ease some of this angry tension in your body that Colter had helped to create, but you were too annoyed. You had angrily slammed your laptop shut and headed for the bathroom, intent on washing all of the bullshit from the last twenty four hours away.

And now, Colter had decided to show up. Of course he had. He might have a thing for Reenie that he refused to acknowledge (as did she), but he was angry (something not usual for him), worked up, and you were in town. Of course he’d show up wanting a repeat performance of the angry sex you’d had in the past. While you could really use the lay to get you out of this drought you found yourself in, you had no desire to go back there and you were definitely not in the mood.

That didn’t mean you wouldn’t give him a tease of what he couldn’t have, though. Not after that argument. Which is exactly why you decided to answer the door dressed (or underdressed) as you were. But when you angrily swung the door open, the person staring back at you in momentary shock was not Colter Shaw. You were shocked yourself; how the hell had he found you?   

Russell’s gaze darkened as he took all of you in. You noticed that he had changed his clothes and his hair looked slightly damp, as if he had recently taken a shower himself. “Hey,” he greeted, his voice dipping in register again. 

And just like that, as if a button had been pressed with that deep tone of his, you were back in the mood. You smirked and leaned against the door. “Hey,” you silkily replied. “Not the Shaw brother I was expecting.”

“But the one you were hoping for, right?” Russell’s wolfish grin was back, completely undeterred by your teasing.

You pretended to think it over for a moment. “Depends.” You grabbed at his jacket and yanked him in closer to you, making him chuckle as you swung the door shut behind him. “What does this brother plan to do?”

“Like I said,” He used that voice again, making goosebumps rise along your skin. “Whatever you want.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear.” You lifted up and wrapped your arms around his neck, the movement forcing the towel to fall from your body, as you pushed your lips to his. You ran your fingers through his hair and greedily kissed him, nearly moaning into his mouth when his tongue delved into yours and his hands palmed at your ass. If he moved those fingers a little lower, he would find you already practically dripping for him. If you weren’t so busy trying to keep your balance as he proceeded to devour you, you might have marveled at the effect this man had on your body.  

A moment later, he gripped your ass tightly and picked you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. You could feel the covered bulge against you and you couldn’t help trying to grind a little against it, trying to get some friction.

When you both needed air, you moved to his neck, yanking his head backwards and making him chuckle as you went to town on him. You could also hear him letting out tiny groans above you as he tried to catch his breath. It was one of the hottest fucking things you’d ever heard and you intended on hearing more before the night’s end. “I should tell you before we go any further,” he panted.

“Mmmm, the only thing I need to know is if you’re clean. Because I really want that in my mouth.” You reached below to squeeze his erection, making his breath catch that was then let out in a quiet hiss.

“I-I’m clean,” he assured you.

“Good, me too,” you murmured, nibbling on his ear. “You just need to make sure to pull out and we’re golden.” 

“Okay. I, uh, I also came packing.”

You moved your hand over him and squeezed once more, earning another drawn out hiss of “shit”. “You certainly did.”

He moved you back so he could look at you, his eyes the darkest you’d seen them yet. He cupped your cheek, gliding his thumb along your bottom lip before gently placing it inside your mouth against your tongue. You sucked the digit in further, moaning around it. His gaze was so transfixed on your mouth that you couldn’t help but snicker and release his thumb with a pop. “Russell.”

His gaze slowly trailed upwards to meet yours.

“Was there something you wanted to tell me?” You teased as you rubbed earnestly at his erection. 

“Uh,” You noticed his eyes close briefly when you rubbed near where the tip was located. You could feel a little wet spot forming on the denim underneath your ministrations and it made you grin. “Uh, Colter said you were off limits.”

Your hand immediately stopped its motion. Oh no, that motherfucker had not. He had no claim to you and whatever moment you two had back in the day had long since passed, along with the several women he’d bedded after you including Reenie. There was no way in hell he got to play the dibs card or tell you and Russell, two consenting adults, what to do. You planned to tell him that the next time you spoke with him, if you ever did again. For now, though, you only wanted to focus on the man whose fingers were hungrily roaming over your bare ass and lower, groaning when he found your own wet spot.

You cupped his chin, making sure he was looking straight at you as you stated in the sexiest voice you could manage, “I think you mean no limits. Right, Russell?”

He groaned and held you to him as he hurriedly walked you over to the bed. “Fuck, I knew I liked you.” You let out a giggle as he tossed you gently onto the bed that was quickly cut off by a moan when his body immediately covered yours and his tongue plundered your mouth.

A sudden thought occurred to you and you nearly chuckled against his lips. You had seen the way he had been eyeing you up earlier today and you realized you had the man completely pegged right then. Because just like the Big Bad Wolf, he proceeded to consume you completely, before the tables turned and you did some devouring of your own.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[edwardteachswombtattoo]

"Namby-Pamby in a Silk Gown": Our Flag Means Death, Toxic Masculinity, Queer Culture, and the Feminine Man

So. Masculinity. Piracy. Our Flag Means Death. Gentlebeard. Izzy. Colonialism. What the heck does all this mean?

I've watched a lot of queer media in my life, from John Waters movies to more contemporary modern queer cinema like "Portrait of a Lady on Fire" and "The Handmaiden". I even watched through all six seasons of "The L Word". I had the original DVD box set and everything. But when I think of queer cinema, I think of camp. I think of old classics from the seventies and eighties and nineties. The Watermelon Woman, To Wong Foo, But I'm a Cheerleader!, Female Trouble, etc.

Our Flag Means Death is very camp. I'm not comparing it to classic queer cinema, it's a completely different experience from, say, watching a John Waters movie. But the show clearly pulls influence from classic queer cinema, at the very least for aesthetic purposes, i.e. Wee John's drag look in "Calypso's Birthday" heavily inspired by drag queen Divine. What makes Our Flag Means Death unique is it's artful sincerity and unabashed queerness for a show made so long after artful sincerity and unabashed queerness have become "taboo" in Western cinema.

This isn't me trashing modern queer cinema and modern queer fiction. I immensely enjoyed The Handmaiden and Badhaai Do, two excellent pieces of queer cinema that have come out within the past decade. Our Flag Means Death has entered the coveted position of best queer TV show I've personally seen in a very long time because of it's artful sincerity and unabashed queerness, not because it's better than anything that came before it...because it's not better or worse than anything that came before it! OFMD is it's own thing, it's own vibe, it's own story.

Our Flag Means Death is a story. And you can either engage with the story as written or engage only with certain small parts of it. The disconnect between audience and writers (and I say this as a writer myself) is that writers (most of them anyway) write stories for a media literate audience. But fundamentally, you do not need to reach a certain threshold of media literacy before you are allowed to engage with a story...you just engage. And this is both bad and good. No one should be barred from engaging with a story because they won't get it or even can't get it. Because if we prevent people who don't get it from engaging with the text, how are they ever going to learn how to engage with the text? They won't, is the answer. You can't gaslight gatekeep girlboss people into media literacy.

Our Flag Means Death is not a complex story. It's very straightforward. If you do not understand what the story is doing, it's not because you're being tricked or lied to: it's because, somewhere along the line, you've misunderstood. So when the story isn't making sense, it's useful to ask yourself: is this bad writing or have I misunderstood what's being said? And sometimes it is bad writing! Sometimes it is! But which is more likely: it's all bad writing or I've personally misunderstood what the story is trying to do? If you don't understand what a story is doing, all these little moments might look like bad writing--because your brain does not know what's happening! Your brain is trying to put a puzzle together but the pieces are all flipped over so you can't see the actual picture!

What is Our Flag Means Death is trying to do? If it's trying to do anything at all, what is it? And why does it make perfect sense for some people while others are confused, angry, even upset? And do they have a right to be? Fundamentally, if you think a story is trying to do something and it's failing at that, you have a right to be upset--and stories have a right to try and fail! That does not necessarily make the story objectively bad!

Our Flag Means Death is trying to commentate on masculinity. Like the oft misunderstood Fight Club (coincidentally, Fight Club was written by a gay man). This is relevant. It's actually all very relevant. There is a difference between what Our Flag Means Death is attempting to do vs. what it actually does. And the line between is thin to the point of nonexistence. The discussion surrounding masculinity and what it means to be a man is just so vast, so entangled with white colonialism and imperialism and racism that any discussion requires an understanding of how these systems function. And Our Flag Means Death invites this discussion--perhaps not intentionally, but it's there. It has to be there. We can't talk about what it means to be a man without talking about race. You cannot write a story featuring an indigenous brown man that partially centers masculinity without at least grazing these topics, intentionally or unintentionally.

This show is a comedy. A romantic comedy. I know that. We all know that. It's not going to spend forty minutes talking about race and colonialism. What it is going to do is have an indigenous man choke out a white colonizer while reading a love letter from his foppy fem boyfriend. What it is going to do is have little Ed murder his abusive white father to protect his mother. What it is going to do is have a bunch of British colonizers die horrifically after being poisoned by a black woman whose establishment they took over. What it is going to do is have Stede burn down a ship full of racist aristocrats while making sure we (the audience) see the servants escaping on a boat in the background while several of the aforementioned aristocrats jump off the burning ship to their probable deaths.

ed you are so fucking hot holy fuck oh my godd holy fuck

Ahem.

Our Flag Means Death is not a subtle show. So when it looks you directly in the eye and says "HEY!! THIS CHARACTER IS BULLYING THIS OTHER CHARACTER WHO JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE A FEMININE GAY MAN! I WONDER WHY THAT IS HMMM???" you should perhaps take that into consideration.

This show loves it's small details, it's winks and nods at the audience. Stede not wearing his rings the morning after "Calypso's Birthday", Wee John having a place to sit at all times, etc. But when it comes to overarching super important plot points? It's never whispered, always shouted. Or whatever Hozier said.

"Some namby-pamby in a silk gown pining for his boyfriend" --Izzy to Ed "A proper little seductress" --Izzy to Lucius "Who's the big gal?" --Jack to/about Stede "a heavyset woman in a silk dressing gown" --one of the British naval officers about Stede

White colonial masculinity tightens a proverbial vice around all the men in Our Flag Means Death. Some of them die for it. Others overcome and live beyond it. But it is a system enforced through emotional and physical violence. Bullying from your peers, threats of physical or emotional retaliation for stepping out of line. The coveted status of Man (patriarch, father, husband) and the inferior status of Woman (mother, wife) that must never touch. The status of Failed Man (feminine, weak, soft).

I think Orville Peck and Willie Nelson said it first.

"And I believe to my soul that inside every man is the feminine And inside every lady, there's a deep manly voice loud and clear" ... "And inside every lady, there's a cowboy who'd love to come out And inside every cowboy, there's a lady who'd love to slip out"

The answer to the question What is Our Flag Means Death trying to do? is a simple one. The show tells us, in very few words, what it is trying to do. The answer to Does it succeed in what it's trying to do? is subjective.

Stede's escape from traditional colonial masculinity and his subsequent disavowing of it are subjective interpretations. But what is objective is how Our Flag Means Death chooses to approach masculinity. "Gal", "woman", "namby-pamby", and "seductress" are words used against the least traditionally masculine characters by characters who (arguably) exemplify what being a man is supposed to look like--in other words, they are being degraded by men who exemplify that traditional colonial masculinity. And because they exemplify traditional colonial masculinity, degrading men who do not follow the doctrine is an essential part of that. There must be the status of Man, the status of Woman, and the status of Failed Man that overlaps with the status of Woman. Stede is the Failed Man who overlaps with the status of Woman.

And what of Edward Teach?

This is where the status of Man, Woman, Failed Man, Failed Woman becomes less relevant. Because of course it's all fucking made up and the whole damn concept of the gender binary is colonial nonsense. But it is especially colonial nonsense when we're talking about an indigenous brown man whose concepts of masculinity are so very removed culturally from the fast encroaching shadow of colonization. The divide becomes more vast and deliberate than when we talk about Stede, because Ed and Stede's concepts of what it means to be a man are not fundamentally identical. And then we arrive at the part where Ed chokes out a British colonizer with one hand while reading a letter from his boyfriend with the other hand. And you know, it's very hot and I think we need more of that.

"Calypso's Birthday" is a celebration of queer love and queer joy and it's also where the themes of masculinity and embracing the feminine become so relevant. Because what else is there to say, except how much of this episode hinges on the transformative powers of love and the transformative powers of self-expression through gender fuckery? Wee John and Jim in drag, Izzy (the guy who spent most of last season getting upset that everyone on the fag ship was fagging it up all over the place) in drag, Stede and Ed's first time. And let's not forget the original plan for Episode 6 was for Stede to get a sexy makeover that involved him wearing eyeliner. We were robbed and I will be mad about this for the next 20,000 years.

There's a part of Our Flag Means Death that's about the transformative power of love and another about how toxic masculinity literally kills and another about how artful sincerity is more attractive than ruthless cynicism in fictional media and a big huge one about how you can't critique traditional toxic masculinity without getting into these discussions about colonialism. And Our Flag Means Death does these things very well, even when it's not doing them very well it's still doing them okay. I think the gay pirate show is going to be one of those "classic" pieces of queer media that people look back on fifty or so years from now in the same way people look at queer cinema from the seventies, eighties, nineties, etc. "Oh, Our Flag Means Death? That was a fun time. I wish there were more shows like that nowadays".