#luke have you actually messaged him yet?

[exopelagic]

maybe straight boy might have a maybe girlfriend. 18 dead 34 injured

[misaamoure]

You were driving him fucking crazy.

Surely he wasn’t that intimidating… right?

For the first time in his life, Sylus was jealous.

The man who had it all, could have it all, and could have anyone he wanted was jealous beyond reproach.

He wanted you so fucking bad. But it seemed like you were pulling farther and farther away from him every day.

Seemed as though you much preferred Luke and Kieran too.

He would invite you over to bond over the aether cores a bit more, and you’d spend 90% of your time fucking around with the twins.

Sylus could hear your laughter all the way from his office.

Through the emotions of jealousy, he also felt a tinge of sadness. Did you truly detest him that much?

Were you scared of him? Did you have someone else?

You two had resonated before. Surely that meant something. Anything.

He was beyond frustrated. Sad. And insecure. All things he’s never felt before.

And from your perspective, it looked like he didn’t give a fuck about you.

Sylus would invite you over, let you in, and disappear into his office.

He was such a damn workaholic.

You were apparently supposed to be “spending time” together and he’s cooped up in his office plotting on next mans downfall.

You just didn’t get him. At all.

The times you two did spend together were extremely fun. And fulfilling.

And you had grown to really like him. And develop a particular attraction to him.

But the worst part about everything was that you weren’t sure how Sylus felt about you at all.

It was so painstaking, and he was so intimidating.

He had invited you over again, which you had opened the message, read it, and ignored it.

You were so sick of the emotional turmoil brought about by your possible one sided crush.

All you wanted to do was stay home and rot in bed with all your plushies.

You’d deal with all the rest another day, you figured.

“Is this girlhood?” You thought to yourself as you ran your hands across the soft material of grumpy crow’s faux feathers.

You stood like this for another thirty minutes before you heard a knock at your door.

Groaning, you get up. Taking the time to put your glasses back on to answer, you conclude that today was really not your day.

Swinging your door open with all the vigor and confidence in the world, looking at what or better yet who was behind the door made your blood run cold.

It was Sylus.

And he looked pissed.

This did nothing but fuel your own rage. What did he have to be mad about? He was the one pushing you away!

After staring at each other sideways for a good minute, you finally decided to break the silence.

“The fuck do you want?”

Sylus’s lip twitched a little at your curse at him.

“Drop the attitude, kitten,” He stared down at you sternly. “You know why I’m here.”

“Why are you here, then?”

“Why are you ignoring me?”

“Answer my question.” You took a step closer to him, seething.

“Answer mine first.” He decided to match your energy, also taking a step closer.

“That’s childish of you,” You laughed dryly. “Not that I don’t expect it.”

Oh, you were testing him.

Sylus closed his eyes, running his hand through his hair, and counted to ten in his head.

“What’s your problem, Y/N?”

You flinched at his use of your name, but nonetheless never wavered.

He rarely ever actually called you by your name.

But you were done being intimidated by him.

“No, Sylus what’s your problem? Why do you keep inviting me over just to waste my time and hole yourself up in your office? You think I enjoy just being an afterthought to you?” Tears had begun to well up in your eyes out of anger.

This had taken Sylus aback. He always expected you to follow him to his office. He didn’t expect you to just stay in the lobby and do fuck all.

He sighed, which you took as him becoming annoyed with you.

“It’s not that I hole myself up,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “Obviously you’re supposed to come with me. You’d rather just spend all your time fucking around with those two.”

You take your hand and angrily plant your hand on his chest, giving him a good shove.

“Fuck you!”

He caught your wrist, quickly taking a look around your surroundings and making sure nobody was watching you two.

All of your previous convo had been taking place right at your front door.

Opening your door further, Sylus dragged you into your apartment, closing and locking the door behind him.

“What’re you-”

You could barely get the words out before Sylus’s fist slammed into the wall next to your head, effectively pinning you against it.

“Sylus-”

“You’re so fucking aggravating, you know that?” Now he was the one seething. “You got so butthurt over a misunderstanding and instead of just talking to me, you decided to throw a hissy fit instead. How fitting.”

It was only so angry someone could make you. It seemed as though Sylus danced on his own special nerve of yours, though.

“Hissy fit? I’m not the one getting jealous of my own damn henchmen!” You poked your sharp nail into his chest with every word. “I only hung with them because you were too scatterbrained to ask me to follow you to your stupid ass office!”

Sylus grabbed the hand that you were poking at him with and pinned it to the wall above your head.

“You’re such a needy kitten,” He got even closer than he already was. “Sometimes I wonder why I even like you.”

“You fucking- wait.” You’d stopped dead in your tracks.

Sylus furrowed his brows and looked at you completely confused. “What?”

“You like me??” You said, also completely confused.

“Christ to god you’re so dumb.” He shook his head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not at all.”

“What?” His confusion turned into disbelief. “What else do you think I bought you all that stuff for?”

“I don’t know! To like,” You looked away from him, embarrassed. “Get on my good side so we can resonate or whatever.”

Silence.

Silence filled the room.

He looked down at you in silence for a good minute.

You looked down at the floor in silence for a good minute.

You two both stood like this before you heard his deep chuckle.

“Are you… laughing?!”

This only made him laugh harder.

“Just answer me this one time, it’s a yes or no question, sweetie,” He let go of your hand and instead grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Do you like me too?”

You blushed hard at his hand placement. You didn’t think things would take such harsh turns today.

Pushing up your glasses, you finally mustered up all your courage and looking him right in his eyes.

He has that stupid ass smirk on his face, like always.

“Yes. I do.”

Sylus wasted no time pulling you into a deep kiss.

The suddenness and intensity of the kiss made you moan, which he immediately took as an opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss even further.

He was running his hands all over your body, it was as if his touch was setting you on fire.

Breaking away from him to catch your breath, you both made eye contact once again.

“Sylus…” You moaned his name, pulling him down once again into another kiss.

“Wait,” He smiled against your lips, turning you around so you were bent over with the support of your palms on the wall, and positioned himself right behind you. “Like this?”

“Oh…!” You arched your back, chills running down your spine as you felt his hard cock pressing right against your ass.

It was so tantalizing… feeling just how much he wanted you.

“Is this what you wanted, kitten?”

You nodded vigorously.

You felt a harsh smack come down on your right ass cheek, making you jump.

“I want to hear you say it.”

It was like the words were caught in your throat. Everything was so stimulating… it was like you couldn’t think straight.

“Actually,” He rubbed his hand over the area he smacked to soothe it. “I’ve teased you enough already. I’ll give you what you want.”

You were initially confused by this statement, but his next actions cleared things up for you rather quickly.

Kneeling behind you, Sylus made quick work of tugging your pants and panties down in one fell swoop.

“Sylus!” You looked back at him with your jaw dropped. “You could at least warn me next time.”

“I prefer to take the initiative.”

He wasted no time getting to work.

Running his tongue up and down your slit to lubricate you, he ran his hands up and down your thighs.

Sylus has barely done anything to you yet and already you were a moaning dripping mess.

He felt his cock throb painfully at the noises you were making.

“Where do you want me to touch?” You felt his lips move against your skin as he talked, making you shudder.

Mustering up all the composure you had left, you found the strength to answer him.

“My clit.” You said quietly and rather bashfully.

You heard his deep, satisfied chuckle once again before feeling one of his long fingers finally dip into you as he laid a gentle kiss on your clit.

“That’s my girl.”

(requested by @athelonewolfuniverse)

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (4)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Ewan wants to clear things up about the night out and his mystery companion, and the reader gets another surprise in LA. Will the two finally have their first date or will something get in the way once more?

Ewan's publicist Donna has never had any issue with her client before. Always present and accounted for, on time for whatever interview, photoshoot or audition he has booked for the day.

But she hasn't been able to get a hold of him in the past two days, which is worrying her to no end, because he is set to meet with a major casting director in New York some time in the coming week.

Donna may have a clue as to why. It's only been two days as well since the pub incident, when The Sun ran a story speculating on Ewan's lovelife - the exact kind of thing he's always been trying to avoid.

It had taken a life of its own, with fans taking it upon themselves to track down every clue of the girl on the internet. Her instagram. Her relation to the cast - apparently she is a cousin of Luke and Elliott. Even the marketing agency where she works. Louise, a 26-year old graphic designer, admittedly harbours a crush on Ewan, and when she heard that her cousins were hanging out with him at a pub nearby, she almost immediately invited herself and her friends over.

But that's all, according to Ewan. After talking to Luke, memories of the night came rushing back to him.

Stumbling out in the alley to send you that voice message. Rejoining the boys to see that they've got new company. Being introduced to Louise, with Tom joking that he should be careful with the missus. Wouldn't want her - you - to think that he's flirting with anyone else.

Even though that's exactly what happened. Not the flirting, per se. Not from Ewan's side, at least. Louise had been brazen with admiration, barely leaving his side the rest of the night. Asking him a bunch of probing questions he had neither the interest nor the patience to answer.

They had all thought the pub was safe from prying eyes. No one approached them for anything, not even a single look of recognition followed by the question, “Are you that guy from House of the Dragon?” Unfortunately, it only takes one rat for a headline to surface. Ewan Mitchell’s mystery girl has been the talk of the fandom and Donna has been trying hard to quell the rumours. 

Such is the nasty nature of the business, as she knows Ewan has quickly learned.

She dials him again, and to her surprise, the call actually patches through.

Her client's throaty voice is heard on the other line, "Hey, Donna, sorry if I've missed your calls."

"It's alright, it's alright, Ewan," Donna stammers. "Just glad to hear from you. Where are you? I've managed to do some damage control about those rumours and - "

"Oh, I'm in LA. I just landed about an hour ago," Ewan responds casually, not mirroring the stress in Donna's tone. Has he gotten over the fuss so easily?

"LA? You know your meeting is not till next week, right? And it's in New York. It's very, very important that you don't miss it, Ewan."

"And I won't," Ewan affirms, laughing dryly to console his worried publicist. "I just need to see about something over here."

Someone, he thinks. He's got his priorities straight.

"Work-related?" Donna asks, curious.

"Uhhhm," Ewan dithers, but decides against telling her about you. Not just yet. "Just visiting a friend. I'll stay here for a while then fly out to New York, don't worry."

"Okay, just keep in touch, alright? I'll send more details about the meeting soon."

"Sure thing. Thank you, Donna."

"Talk soon, Ewan. Take care of yourself."

Donna feels a huge sense of relief wash over her when the call ends, knowing the whereabouts of one of her biggest clients. But why LA? Perhaps Ewan just needed some time off after the flurry of annoying headlines put out in the UK.

Or maybe he's visiting with a friend? Who is stateside right now? Fabien's filming in Philly. The rest of the boys are still in England. But then...

Her thoughts land on the one thing - the one person - that would make him fly out on such short notice. Without giving thought to anything else, especially after the speculation on his romantic life.

Ewan's never been one to share about personal affairs, not even to his close-knit team, but no matter how reclusive he is, no one can deny the way he looks at you. The way he lights up when you're brought up in conversation. The number of times he had excused himself from their meetings to make a call, standing in the corner with a permanent smile etched on his face.

Oh, Donna knows now just who he is in LA for.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Like inevitable spectres haunting someone of his profession, Ewan noticed the papparazzi snapping away as he arrived in LA.

He told no one he would be coming, so it must be an automatic thing in the city. The photogs are always scurrying in the periphery, ready to catch anyone of note, no matter the degree of fame or notoriety.

If you were keeping up with such news, you would know he is in the city.

But according to your assistant Clara, who was kind enough to inform him of your schedule, you are still finishing up on another day of rehearsals for your upcoming rom-com. Ewan checked in the same hotel as you, planning to seek you out as soon as you arrive back from work.

He hasn't spoken to you since the voicemail, and since those false news broke out. Not that he can blame you - wouldn't anyone be suspicious of a drunken confession made by a guy who was allegedly in the company of another girl?

He hates it, being subject to all of this. This nonsense that is keeping you from him, not even worth any consequence.

But he will deal with the blows. As long as he sets things right with you. As long he gets you in the end.

He settles in his suite, getting ready to meet with you once more. He showers, shaves, tousles his hair. He even checks whether he smells decent after all of that - once, twice, and another time. Being nervous to stand in front of a crowd is one thing; it's a whole other conundrum for him finally see you again.

Maybe the crowds are more manageable, and it baffles him to realise so. He can put on a persona, be the actor, and disappear inside himself as the cameras flash bright enough for him to disassociate.

But not with you. He wants to show you everything that he is, who he truly is, and it scares him. There is no team to help him get ready now. It's all him, just Ewan.

Clad in his trusty black jeans and a comfortable hoodie of the same dark colour, he looks in the mirror one last time after receiving a text from Clara that you've arrived at the hotel about half an hour ago.

He contemplates opening the bottle of bourbon from the minibar and taking a shot of liquid courage - something to help him get his explanation ready. Just so he wouldn't stammer in front of you.

Just so you he can make you see, without any error or trace of doubt, that he meant every word in that voicemail, no matter how embarrassing it might have sounded.

He decides against it, imagining the wrinkling of your nose as you catch a whiff of the alcohol. It's cute when you do it, and he adores it so dearly, but he knows that it isn't the right moment.

He rights himself, rolls his shoulders, and he's out the door.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Jacob trails you inside your hotel suite, laughing at some shared remark about the scenes you rehearsed for the day.

They were emotionally demanding and even after tossing around ideas for hours, the two of you were unable to achieve a satisfying approach to the scenes.

Which is why he had proposed practicing well into the evening, and you found yourselves heading back to your suite together. He has his own house in LA, but your hotel just happened to be closer to the rehearsal studio.

"Care for a drink?" you asked him.

"Why the hell not?" he immediately assents in that easy, Aussie drawl. "We might need it for this shite."

You laugh in agreement, "Indeed. I've got some canned gin and tonics if that's alright.. or beer... or whiskey... " you trail off as you study the contents of your fridge.

"G and t, please, mate," he settles down on the couch, legs stretching in front of him. "We were so unproductive today. I just could not get that line right."

"Tell me about it." You hand him his drink, and he clinks it with yours with a mumbled cheers. "It was me who can't land the right tone," you say. "I mean, is my character supposed to be confused in that moment? Or angry? Or sad?"

"Or all of 'em." he shrugs. "Tricky, isn't it?"

You hurriedly fetch your script from a table, getting right down to it. "So for the first scene in the third act..."

Moments later, with cans of gin and tonic discarded on the coffee table, you and Jacob sit with legs crossed on the couch facing each other. Scripts in hand, you go through the lines over and over, with only seemingly minor tweaks each time. To an actor though, even just the slightest change of pitch or expression makes all the difference.

"Is that better? I think we almost got it," you say after a read-through.

"Yeah, so much better," he grins, holding his hand up for a high-five. Just as your hands smack in the air, another sound echoes faintly from the door.

"Someone's knocking?" Jacob asks. "You expecting anybody? Room service or anything?"

"No," you shake your head, trying to think of whether your assistant or publicist said anything about dropping by. "Maybe it's just housekeeping?"

"I'll get it," Jacob states, already padding his way to the door.

A beat later, you hear Jacob loudly exclaim, "Ewan, mate! It's good to see you!"

Ewan? A shiver runs up your spine. Craning your neck to get a view of a doorway, you catch sight of him, half-obscured by Jacob's tall frame.

Confused, surprised, and feeling some other emotion you can't pinpoint, you head over to greet him.

"How are you doing?" Jacob greets, shaking Ewan's hand, oblivious to the poorly hidden distaste in his eyes.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Ewan finds himself asking Jacob, a bit rudely, just as you ask him the same.

"What are you doing here?" you mirror his question at the exact same time.

"Oh!" Jacob breathes out a laugh, "Well, I'll go first. We were just practicing lines."

"In her room? Isn't it a bit late for rehearsal? I thought you're supposed to be off work." Ewan asks, and it sounds like an accusation. He starts to feel all kinds of uneasy - were the twins right about life imitating art?

You narrow your eyes at him. "We decided to continue running lines after rehearsal. There's a scene we can't get right. It's quite tricky - "

"Just the two of you? Alone, here?" Ewan tilts his head, gesturing towards the room like it's some forbidden place.

Jacob shakes his head, smile steady on his lips. If he's caught on to how Ewan must be feeling, he doesn't let it affect him. He gives you a look, as if to check your reaction, and you give him a reassuring shrug.

Ewan does not overlook this exchange. He clenches his jaw, irate from the assumptions popping up in his mind. Before he forgets his manners, he says, "Excuse me, I just... wasn't expecting... I just wanted to speak to you."

"I didn't even know you were in LA," you say, before moving aside to usher him in. "But I'm glad you are, of course. Come join us - "

He nods, making his way to the seating area, where he spies the discarded cans of alcohol and dog-eared scripts. Maybe he should have taken that bloody shot after all.

He laughs joylessly to himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, you guys. I just flew in today, and I must have been exhausted from the flight."

"Hey, no worries, mate," Jacob says. "You know what, I'll be on my way. Give you time to catch up and all." He picks up his own tattered script then gives you a kiss on the cheek, bidding you with a, "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, sweetheart."

If looks could kill, and if his dear mother hadn't raised him right, he would have incinerated Jacob in that moment.

He is snapped out of his thoughts when Jacob claps him on the shoulder, "Great to see you again, mate. Have a good night, eh?"

Ewan knows he's being ridiculous. There's nothing wrong with two friends and co-stars spending some time alone to rehearse. Besides, last he heard, you were adamant that you and Jacob are just friends.

So why is he being so irrational? Why does the idea of you spending more time than necessary with Jacob, possibly falling for him, bother him so much?

Ewan realises that this is what jealousy must feel like.

He's had career envy before. Another actor landing a role he vied for. Someone else getting the praise he deserves.

But nothing like this. It's petty and possessive.

He wants you to just be his.

You stand in front of him once more after you walk Jacob out of the suite.

"Hey," you say, smiling weakly.

"Hi, darling."

Both of you want to do more. Say more. Usually you would greet each other with a hug and a kiss on a cheek, his hands lingering on your forearms even after you pull away, but the air is thick with tension.

You look at him with those bright, expecting eyes of yours, and Ewan just wants to cave in and make a sloppy confession. But not after that voicemail, no. He's determined to do this right. Words not slurred, head clear.

"So I got your voicemail," you finally say, smiling coyly. "That was... something."

"Hmm," he can't help but mirror your smile, as always. "It was, wasn't it?"

"I understand," you continue, taking a step closer, "if you were drunk. We all say things when we're off it that we maybe don't mean - "

"But darling, I meant every word," he says, way too quickly.

You laugh, the sound of it erasing whatever apprehension remained in him. "Do you even remember what you said?"

"I do," he counters, moving even closer to you. Another step and he'd be able to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him. "At least, some of - no - most of it."

"Oh yeah?" you ask cheekily, aided by the effect of gin. He still has your heart racing, but a part of you now knows that the feeling is mutual. "What did you say again?"

He sees that glint in your eye, and it causes him to smirk. "Why don't I make it simple for you, darling?" He closes the distance, one hand brushing the hair from your face.

"Okay," you swallow, getting lost in his blues.

"I missed you." He kisses your cheek. "I like you. A lot." He kisses the other. "And I, uh, I would like to take you on a date."

His eyes meet yours. His voice is steady, but you notice some nervousness in his gaze. How the tables have turned. You make Ewan Mitchell's heart go awry.

"Please, darling?" he timidly adds, the sentiment so sweet you want to blurt out yes immediately. Before you can, he's already leaned back, an explanation rushing out of his lips, "And... I'm not sure but you must have seen those headlines? They're not true, I swear. We were out drinking and - "

"I know, Ewan." You cut him off with a hand pressed gently on his chest but he keeps going.

" - some other people joined us. One of them being - "

"Luke and Elliott's cousin. I know. Elliott called and told me everything."

"Oh. He called you?" A huge sense of relief washes over him, better than any comfort he might have found in a shot or three of bourbon.

"Mhmm, he called me yesterday. So, you know, you didn't really have to fly out. I was about to call you eventually."

He smiles bashfully, eyes cast down as a blush spreads across his cheeks. Damn it, Elliott, you brilliant lad. He reminds himself to treat Elliott to a pint the next time he sees him.

"I still wanted to see you," Ewan maintains, pressing a kiss to your forehead and you're immediately enveloped by the familiar comfort of his scent. Surprisingly without the staple hint of cigarette smoke, due to his frantic scrubbing after the flight.

"I'm happy you're here," you say, wrapping your arms around his waist, cheek pressed against his chest. "And no offence to Louise or anything, but she needs to learn some boundaries with my - "

Ewan looks down at you fondly, squeezing your arms to prompt your next words, "Yeah, darling? Your what?"

"My - " you attempt to bury your face in his hoodie, but he keeps your gaze with a hand cupping your jaw. So you end up saving yourself with " - my Aemond."

"Hmm," he hums, lips curling, and it's so very Aemond of him it makes you feel warm all over. "Your Aemond.Your Ewan. I'm all yours, love."

The whole thing couldn't have gone any better, all things considered, and Ewan feels content to have gotten over his first brush with the rumour mill. What matters is right in front of him, and you know the truth.

"Are you staying in this hotel? How did you even know I was here?" You take his hand, guiding him over to the couch.

"Clara," is all Ewan says by way of explanation.

"Well, thank you, Clara," you declare. Ewan shuffles closer to you and rests his arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your forehead again. The gesture is already becoming instinctive, providing the both of you with a sense of ease.

"Darling?"

"Yeah?" you respond absentmindedly, fingers toying with the soft fabric of his hoodie.

"Is that a yes?"

You exhale deeply. As if it wasn't clear enough already. "What do you think, handsome?"

"I don't know, angel. You tell me," he counters cheekily, his fingers playing with your hair as you playfully glare at him.

"What if I say no, baby?"

"Then I'll have to work hard to change your mind, princess."

"And how would you do that, honey?"

His gaze darkens, and something flashes across his blue eyes as he whispers intensely, "Use your imagination, bunny."

"Ri-right," you bite your lip, then shake your head to snap out of it. "We'll have to draw the line at bunny."

He laughs at your flustered state, pleased by the effect he has on you. "What's wrong with bunny?"

That elicits a groan out of you, but you smile anyway. "I already said yes, Ewan. Quit it with the bunny."

"Alright, beautiful," he relents, making you lean even closer against him.

The haze of gin after a long work day starts to subside and the rush of emotion is coming back to you. You find yourself gazing at Ewan in mild disbelief, in awe that he just confessed that he wants you.

Feeling antsy, you stand and pace around the room. You start tidying things, putting your scattered knick-knacks back in your handbag. If you sit with him any longer, you just might end up hurrying things through and jump his bones already, kiss him the next time he does that hmm.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask.

"No," he says smoothly. "I just need you." The words make you stop in your tracks. He still sits in the same position, looking at you with that undeniable desire in his eyes.

"Uhhhm," your mouth feels dry all of the sudden. Nothing his tongue past your lips can't fix, your intrusive thoughts barge right in. "So... the... the media rollout's still going on isn't it? Should we check and see?" You take your laptop and plop back down next to him. He doesn't miss a beat and cuddles against you once more, wrapping his arm around your tense frame.

"I think so, darling." The media rollout is how the interviews and promotional material filmed by the cast is being released gradually, on a weekly basis, after each new episode comes out.

A simple search on Youtube confirms it, and the first thing that popped up is the Where is The Lie? video you did for Elle.

It was slated for just Tom, Phia, and Ewan but your Blackwood character became such a fan-favourite that they asked you to join in. Not to mention the frenzy you and Ewan caused online with the initial interviews you did together.

"Shall we watch this?" Ewan offers, solely for the intent of seeing you in the video.

You click on it, and for the next 8 minutes or so, all you can take note of are the signs that had clearly already been there. The fans were on to something when they claimed that you and Ewan are a really good ship.

The video starts with a clip of Phia hitting her head on the overhead lamp when she stands, prompting her to uncontrollably giggle along with you and Tom. Ewan, being the exception, is beside himself with worry, and he appears to instinctively reach for your hand as you sit beside him.

"Huh," Ewan smiles, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Tom is the first to be put on the hot seat, and he slowly recites the three statements he prepared. "Ewan, pay attention," Tom blurts out when he notices that Ewan kept sneaking glances at you. "Sure, I'm locked in," Ewan says right back, as you and Phia share a look.

"What were you looking at?" you ask playfully, poking him in the side. "You seem plenty distracted there."

He snorts at himself in the video, when he ends up smiling as he caught your eye. "It was your fault. You were distracting me."

"I was not!" you exclaim. "I thought you were just being competitive then."

Phia is next to have a go. She tells you of a Wifi repellent necklace, a wrestling career, and saving a squirrel from a drainpipe. "The Wifi thing sounds like something Ewan would have," Tom jokes. "Oh sure," you concur, "except that he'd actually keep it so he can watch films." Ewan smiles at your acute observation.

"I'd also keep it to stalk your Instagram," Ewan mumbles from beside you. "And you know, just stalk you in general."

"I'm sure you do, Mitchell," you respond casually, but your face warms up anyhow.

It's Ewan's turn, and as he sits on the hot seat, you see Tom and Phia casting a look at each other then at the two of you, a secret message shared between them. "I bet she will know the answer right away," Phia says. "Yeah, how do we know the two of you didn't conspire together?" Tom asks. "Are you kidding me, you guys?" you laugh at them, thinking how silly they were being, not knowing then that they were definitely on to something.

"Darling, you have to know this," Ewan tells you specifically as you all try to guess the answer. "Oh, darling!" Tom mouths to Phia, dramatically flipping nonexistent long hair over his shoulder. Phia laughs at his antics, before nudging you and saying, "Which one is it? Which is the lie? I trust you." You respond, "Why me? You two should know this too!"

"Because I wasn't trying to date them, my love," Ewan says, smiling at the screen.

"Oh, come on now." You crane your neck up to press a soft kiss against his cheek before turning your attention back to the video. So you don't notice the switch in Ewan's breathing. The jumps in his heartbeart. The way he subtly clears his throat to deal with his flustered state.

The video comes to a close after your turn and even at the very end, Ewan can be seen admiring you as you give the closing remarks with Phia.

Admiring you, as he does in the moment.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he says, when you turn to look at him.

"Thank you," you reply softly, your voice barely audible.

Some time passes with the two of you catching up, talking about your upcoming projects, his big meeting in New York - all the while his fingers trace patterns on your exposed skin, his arm wrapped around you snugly.

"Have you been keeping up with the show?" he asks.

"The last episode I saw fully was... the second one? I got pretty busy after that. How about you?"

"Oh," he looks down in thought, piquing your curiosity, "so you didn't get to see the third episode yet then?"

"No, not yet," you shake your head, "but I've seen some stuff here and there."

He hums again and he wants to ask, have you seen his stuff? There are around a dozen or so potential jokes at play here. He has an inkling to tell you to watch the episode so you can see just what you're in for. So you can see him and all he has to offer. He'd also fumble through a justification, as he had done in some interview, about the new studio they had filmed in being cold as a fridge freezer.

What to say? What to say? He picks at some lint on his jeans, smirking to himself.

"Yeah," you eventually giggle at his obvious hesitation. "I've only seen some of the episode. But what I've seen... is enough to make me jealous of Madame Sylvie."

He stiffens, throat suddenly dry, but one look at your smile does away with his concerns.

He soon finds himself laughing, a muffled, "Oh, darling," whispered lovingly against your hair.

"That was very brave of you, Ewan," you express sincerely.

"Thank you, love."

"So... just how cold was it in there?"

Your shared, unrestrained laughter echo throughout the room.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Your first date was meant to happen the following night, but such is the nature of the job that Ewan's schedule gets moved up all of a sudden.

Once the bigshot casting director in New York found out that Ewan is already stateside, he requested that the meeting be held at the earliest possible opportunity.

He calls you while you are in rehearsals, profusely apologizing and promising to fly back to LA in the next two days, right after his meeting is all sorted.

"It's okay, Ewan," you reassure him, genuinely understanding. "I will see you when you come back. Good luck, I know you're going to smash it, whatever opportunity this is!"

"Thank you, darling," he says, already wanting to have you back in his arms already, mentally kicking himself for not kissing you when he had about a hundred chances to do so. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too," you respond, blushing silly with the phone pressed to your ear. "But it'll only be two days."

"Hmm, doesn't matter. I need to take you on our bloody date, darling. I've already taken so damn long."

"Don't worry," you say, "I've already seen you way more than I should before the first date."

"Wha - " a protest forms on his lips, but he gets your point right away. "Oh. Clever, darling."

"I know."

"But I'm planning to give you something that's just for you. That the whole world won't ever be privy to."

You swallow hard, your very being heating up at his insinuation. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Mitchell."

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

Bonus chapter!

Nocturnal file 🤫

💌 next chapter

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The cast's Where is The Lie? video is an actual thing! I hope yous got the reference!

Notice how the two nerve-wrecked shites didn't have their first proper kiss yet??? Will they ever?? 😩😩😩

Taglist is officially closed for this one. Please bookmark this series or the masterlist (or follow my page) to keep up with updates <3

I can't even overstate how mad all the love for this series has been! I'm always looking forward to hearing from you guys - suggestions, comments, complaints are always welcome!

See you in part five! (preview: something will happen in NY that might cause Ewan to question things!)

[romanhughesy]

Uh Huh (Are you up/Are you down?)

It's your first time meeting Quinn's brothers, but he can't find you in the club.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: alcohol/clubs, handful of y/n's used. slightly suggestive?

Quinn is confused. 

He sweeps his eyes between the doors, the bar, and the handful of booths towards the front of the club, back and forth like one of these times, he’ll turn his head, and you’ll appear. The plan was your idea, after all. 

His brothers were coming to visit, and trips to his side of the continent were kind of a big deal. It’s your first time meeting them. You and Quinn had been official for eight-ish months now, and he wouldn’t say it’s super serious, but he wouldn’t say it isn’t serious either. He really likes you, and sees a lot of potential in your relationship. But, the pair of you are still working through the early days milestones, like this. You were, understandably, nervous about meeting his family, even if it was just his brothers and not his parents, yet. Jack and Luke would be in town for a few days, and you insisted that while you wanted to meet them, you also wanted the brothers to have plenty of time together, just the three of them. While he searches for you, letting Jack get their first round from the bar, he remembers your guy’s conversation about the visit. You held his hand, eyes searching his face, and reassured him that you understand how hard it is for him to spend most of his time so far away, while Jack and Luke live in the same apartment. You felt it was important for the brothers to just exist together, without trying to fit a new person into the dynamic the whole time. Quinn couldn’t say much, but he pulled you closer and ran a hand through your hair, feeling seen and cared for in your particular way. Quinn’s never had any bad experiences with girls meeting his family, but he’s heard horror stories. The consideration and empathy you hold for others is one of his favorite traits of yours, so he should’ve expected it to extend to his brothers, but it touched him nonetheless. 

“There’s Petey!” Jack exclaims, suddenly back at Quinn’s side. He startles out of his thoughts, but follows Jack’s pointing finger and sees Petey, Conor, and Brock emerge through the crowd between them and the door. His team and his brothers mingle, loose hugs, daps, and chirping, and then Conor, of course it’s Conor, notices Quinn’s split attention. “Huggy, where’s your girl? I thought you were showing her off tonight?” Now, everyone looks at him, expectantly, but he actually has no clue where you are. Well, some clue. 

See, when you both talked about Jack and Luke coming to visit, you mentioned that it’d be nice to meet them for the first time while doing some kind of larger group activity. Some of Quinn’s friends (his teammates, let’s be honest), and some of your friends, getting together. The suggestion was another reminder to Quinn that you might really be a bit of a genius. He’d have time with just you and his brothers together later in the visit, but since your girls mostly knew his guys, and his guys knew his brothers, it’d spare the awkwardness of the two of you just sitting around and getting interrogated about your relationship by his nosy brothers. You could connect with them, but casually and the whole group would all have lots of other people to bounce off of. Jack and Luke would definitely want to go out while they were here, anyway, so great idea, really. Except, he can’t find you anywhere. 

He figured you had to be somewhere in the club. You’d texted him a chaotic group selfie while you and your friends were getting ready. You’re holding your phone to the mirror, making a kissy face, while a couple of your friends pose and a couple more are mid-makeup application. He’d smiled at his phone during dinner, and gotten ribbed for it by Luke, of all people. His baby brother. You’d followed the message up a little later with a random emoji, and he couldn’t help but smile, again. Not one for spending much time on your phone, especially when with friends, you’d quickly send off an emoji or two as a form of checking in. But, your picks were never relevant to what you were doing or where you were, which always amused Quinn. He’d assumed you made it to the club, because you sent him the abacus emoji and a red heart, but he couldn’t exactly say that to everyone looking at him for an answer right now. So, he smooths it over. 

“She got here with her friends a while ago, but I haven’t spotted them yet. Maybe they’re outside.” Quinn knows he sounds a bit lame, but it’s a bit much for his brothers and close friends to give him those looks. Luke turns to Jack, smirking. “Dude, I’ve been telling you she’s not real. You’re gonna have to pay up.” Quinn very narrowly resists the urge to try and headlock both his brothers at once, but Brock is helpful, as always. “Nah, we’ve met her. She’s cool. Kinda too cool for Quinner. Maybe he’s paying her?” Okay, maybe Brock isn’t always helpful. 

Shaking his head, Quinn tries to regain his control over the unruly group he calls his loved ones. “Let’s just get another round, I’ll keep an eye out. They’re here, somewhere.” Conor offers to claim an open table closer to the dance floor, while someone else buys him a drink. “I’ll go with you!” Luke says, with a wry smile. He doesn’t even need to sneak around in the Canadian club like he does in Jersey, he’s just a freeloader. Whatever. Quinn will make Jack pay for his drink, payback for taking bets on whether or not his girlfriend is real. He didn’t really anticipate Jack carrying a tray of shots back to the table, Quinn balancing all three brothers’ beers, but Jack makes some cheesy comment about them being “for the ladies” that Quinn doesn’t want to dig into any further. Petey is the first person to grab one of the shots off the tray, which feels a little bit like payback again. Quinn laughs, and takes one for himself. 

The boys settle into easy chatter, and whenever you and your friends turn up, Quinn thinks the night will be pretty close to perfect. You compliment him so well, and he sees it the most when you’re at his side in social situations, easily holding your own around his rambunctious friends. You’re always good for a laugh or a well timed joke, but also attentive, and, as far as Quinn can tell, content to sit and listen even when the topic doesn’t particularly interest you. You’ve impressed his friends more than a few times with your memory, following up about family, little injuries, or dates the next time you see them. They can all tell how much you care about Quinn, and bask in some of your care with their proximity to him. He asked you about it once. Your ease, and seemingly genuine interest in whatever people tell you. Quinn is the kind of person who hates small talk more than almost anything, and you’re the kind of person who asks follow up questions when the grocery store cashier tells you about their beach vacation. At first it confused him, but the day he asked, you smiled softly and told him: “I just love people. Some people say there isn’t enough kindness or love in the world, but I see it in the tiniest stuff. So I just try to give all my extra love to the universe. It makes me happy.” The axis of his world tilted, just a bit, but he definitely felt his heart stumble. You guys were even less serious then, but the idea of a person like that enjoying his company, choosing him, it made Quinn warm all over. 

Jack presses another shot glass into his hand, and Quinn shifts his focus back in front of him. Conor raises his, grinning and toasting to the “Hughesapalooza”, as “Hughes Bowl” is apparently reserved just for the ice. Quinn throws back his shot, swallowing the liquor and his grimace, and takes another fruitless look around the club. As his eyes focus back on the table, he sees Jack craning his neck, looking around Petey’s head towards the dance floor. Quinn furrows his brow. He doesn’t quite think his brother is in the same search party as him. Boeser must catch his expression, because he puffs out a laugh. “If y/n doesn’t turn up soon, she’s not gonna meet Jack because he’ll never make it off the dance floor.” The middle Hughes whips his head back, caught, but his smile is more cunning than guilty. “Can you blame me?” He answers easily, throwing another look over his shoulder. “Check out that group of girls by the DJ booth. They seem like a great time.” The rest of the guys rustle around to peek, so Quinn looks too. He’s not really curious, but if it shows on his face that he doesn’t even feel like he needs to look at other women while waiting on you, he’ll get chirped within an inch of his life. He squints, eyes flitting over the crowd until he finds the group of girls his brother has to be talking about. They’re in a circle right in front of the DJ booth, loose enough for dancing but tight enough to keep out unwanted partiers, and Jack’s right. They’re definitely having fun, and looking good doing it. The way they’re dancing, grabbing each other’s hands and waists, smiling and singing along, they don’t seem to realize they’re the center of attention. It’s almost riveting, even to Quinn. The one directly in front of the DJ booth, facing them, and the rest of the club, twists her hips just so, tossing her hair to the beat. The lights are bright, and color shifting, but the reflection off her hair as she tosses it… the cut… her clothes…

“Is that…?” Petey’s question trails off, but his teammates have already averted their eyes from the group, back to their captain. His brothers follow suit, albeit slower, and Luke almost immediately puts the pieces together. “THAT’S Y/N?” He shouts, eyes nearly bulging out of his head. Jack laughs, almost a scoff, but when he scans everyone else’s expression, his brows shoot up. He looks at his older brother, disbelieving, and Quinn can’t help his smug smile. “Too cool for Quinn is right.” He mutters, grabbing a shot off the emptying tray and tossing it back. Quinn rolls his eyes, but he does let out a chuckle. The laugh helps vent a bit of the relief flooding through him. 

Quinn trusts you completely, and likes how independent you are, but after an hour or so of little, fleeting doubts crossing his mind, he can’t deny the feelings that bubble up in him now that they’ve found you. You, looking gorgeous and enjoying yourself with your friends— he definitely noticed how there were no men anywhere near your circle— facing the whole room, waiting for him. The boys rib him for the dopey smile on his face as he watches you move, but it really couldn’t matter less. He stands, giving the boys a smirk and a “be right back” over his shoulder. Their eyes narrow when he heads towards the bar and not the dance floor. “That’s weird, right?” Petey looks between the table, Quinn, and back at y/n, confused. 

At the bar, Quinn leans on the edge and tries to steal glances of you through all the other bodies. Your group is still noticeable, but come in and out of focus with all the other motion around. He turns his attention back to the bar, nodding to the bartender. “Hey man, can you get a round of tequila shots out to that group of girls right in front of the DJ booth? And let them know they came from that table,” Quinn points to his friends and brothers, but only Brock is watching him. Boeser raises his brow, but turns back to his conversation with Luke, seemingly uninterested. The bartender’s also not roused, blandly replying, “Sure, man. But I can’t take them off your tab if they’re not interested.” Quinn thinks laughing would make him look cocky, or like an asshole, or both, so he just nods, says “No worries,” and gives the bartender his last name for the tab. The Hughes name apparently does interest the guy a little bit, if his surprised expression is anything to go off of, but he says nothing else to Quinn as he pours the shots, and gets the attention of a barback. 

Heading back to the table, Quinn ignores all the boys’ questions and angles his chair so he can see you better, waiting. A minute or so later, he sees someone get your attention from the DJ booth, handing down the shots and pointing in his direction. His stomach tenses, not unlike waiting for puck drop, but explodes into butterflies the moment you spot him. Even from the table, he could see your squinted eyes and furrowed brow lift, suspicion giving way to surprise as a big grin takes over your face. He smiles back, giving you a wave that you, and all of your friends, return. You hold up your finger, shoot your shot, and gather your girls in record time. He’s pretty impressed, and his brothers’ dropped jaws only make him feel even more smug. They love to talk about all the attention they get from girls in Jersey, but he can see Jack and Luke both steel themselves as the most beautiful girl in the room, Quinn’s, leads her pretty friends to their table. 

Quinn reacts instinctively, standing and closing the last step between your bodies, arms wrapping around your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You take a step back, beaming up at him. “Hi, love! You guys just get here?” You sweep your gaze over the rest of the group, eyes twinkling, but they widen when Conor answers for Quinn. “We’ve been here for like an hour!” 

“No way!” You gasp, looking back at Quinn, who nods, unable to suppress his smile. “I was facing the door the whole time: I was looking out for you guys!”  You insist, but your tone is still bright as you apologize for keeping the guys waiting. Jack and Luke stand to greet you, and you leave Quinn’s arms to hug them both. “No sweat, you guys looked like you were having a ton of fun.” Quinn can tell by Jack’s tone that he’s teasing a little bit, and apparently, you can too, because he sees your cheeks flush even in the dark club. Your best friend drapes her arm around you, grinning. “She doesn’t come out to dance very often, but when she does she’s got more energy than the rest of us combined.” Quinn watches you flush a little darker, adorable, but you push down your embarrassment and grab the hand of one of your other friends, introducing your group to Quinn’s. Most of them already know each other, but it helps break the ice. Quinn catches one of your quieter friends sidling up to Petey after saying hello to everyone else, and he raises his brow at the blond, who looks away quickly. Alright. 

Quinn offers your friend with the highest heels his chair, cracking a smile at the pure relief on her face, and slides in closer to you. You’re chatting to Jack and Luke about what the brothers did for dinner, easy as ever, and Quinn almost regrets wrapping his arm around your waist, only because it turns his brothers’ attention back onto him. Jack looks him up and down, gaze almost disapproving, which throws Quinn off for a second. “So you’ve been keeping the coolest girl you’ve ever dated all to yourself for almost a year now? How dare you! Y/N would love a Michigan vacation, wouldn’t you, Y/N?” Quinn’s eyes roll, ready to defend himself, but you beat him there. “Don’t be mean!” You lightly chastise, like Jack’s your own younger brother. Quinn almost snorts. “Quinn’s tried inviting me so many times. I don’t get enough time off work, and I don’t want to cut into your family time. You guys spend so much time apart, I worry about throwing the vibe off when you guys should just be enjoying each others’ company!” Quinn knows your feelings on this too well. He has invited you to travel with him a handful of times in the last few months, and still he accepts your reasoning. But, he also has missed you terribly every time he leaves and knows that his family will love you. Case in point, Luke runs a hand through his hair and says “I just met you, and I can already tell your vibe is way better than Quinn’s. Next time, you can come visit and leave him behind to go to work for you!” 

“Hey!” Quinn interjects, not actually bothered but having to disagree, on principle. You place a hand on your chest, mock affronted. “You’d leave out your private chef and best boat driver? Doesn’t sound like a good vacation at all.” Jack lets out an honest-to-god cackle, and Quinn slumps against you a little. “Not you too,” he complains, quietly smoothing over when your soft hand pats his cheek.  Jack, clearly pleased that you’ll poke fun at Quinn, changes the subject by asking about what you do for work, and you all chat for a while, conversation flowing naturally. 

The smaller conversations merge, and soon enough, everyone is shooting the shit and the tray of shots is cleared. Brock nominates Conor and Luke to go get more, grinning wryly. Conor takes it like a champ, and drags along Luke, who’s taking it like the baby of the family. The two of them have barely made it to the bar when a new song starts, and best your friend leaps up from her chair, grabbing your hand. “Oh my god, we have to dance!” You turn to Quinn, wearing an excited smile with an apologetic edge, still clearly thinking about leaving him hanging earlier, and he melts. “Go have fun, baby. We’ll be right here.” You beam for real, this time, kiss his cheek, and Quinn watched you follow a couple of your girls to the floor. Jack smiles at him across the table, “She’s special, huh?” He says, like he’s reading his older brother’s mind. Quinn just nods, watching you dance. He was right, earlier. Now that you’re around, fitting into his life like all of the empty spaces were made for you, he’s having basically a perfect night.

a/n: hiiiii lol i haven't written any kind of fic in FOREVER so if u made it through this that's cool let me know what u think!! quinn hughes brainrot is too strong i just think about him. all the time. title is from "uh huh" by tinashe stream her new album QUANTUM BABY okay bye <333

[theemporium]

[3.5k] luke hits the west coast for his first long roadie of the season with some unsettling feelings about leaving jersey for so long. who would have thought his biggest problem on the road would end up being looking at his caller id over the actual hockey games he was playing? (smut)

series masterlist

.

hockey boy: u up?

Luke Hughes had never felt like more of a fuck boy than he did the moment he had sent the text—which was ironic when he was quite literally the opposite of a fuckboy.

He hadn’t even meant for it to come across that way. Genuinely, he did not.

Despite being officially in the NHL for over a month now, this was the first time Luke was going on a roadie across the country whilst wearing the New Jersey red on his back. Most of their away games had been in nearby cities, where they would maybe spend a day or two in another city before returning to Jersey. 

But this was the longest one yet—a full ten days in the west coast for games against San Jose, LA and Anaheim. 

He wanted to say it wasn’t a big deal, that he was used to the life of hockey taking him to new cities and states. But things were different in the NHL. The stakes were higher, the games meant more even this early in the season, things just felt a lot more intense.

But it felt stupid to confess as much to his brother or any of the other boys when he literally played in the playoff games last season, when the stakes were the Cup. 

However, Luke couldn’t shake off the weird intensity of the roadie. He played off Jack’s concerned looks with some bullshit excuse that he was tired, that he was just struggling to sleep these days. It didn’t wave away his older brother’s concern but it got him off his back for a little bit. It let Jack focus on a different concern and not the real reason (that felt borderline childish to admit) that he felt on edge about leaving Jersey for so long. 

And it meant that Luke was laying in the hotel room alone whilst Jack was out with some of the other guys on the team for dinner, embracing the one free evening they had before the game tomorrow against San Jose. 

He had flipped through a variety of shows on the tv and scrolled through endless apps on his phone before he gave in, his finger hovering over the send button before he clicked it.

It hadn’t even hit him how his text sounded until your reply came through a few moments later. 

cherry🍒: damn hughes

cherry🍒: you gonna ask me what i’m wearing next?

His cheeks instantly burned hot, something quite like embarrassment and awkwardness bubbling in the pit of his stomach. 

At least it was hard to focus on the upcoming games when he was too busy thinking about the quickest ways to flee the country and change his identity. 

hockey boy: absolutely not 

Luke’s fingers moved fast on the screen, already drafting up a second message when your reply came through. 

cherry🍒: rude :( 

cherry🍒: maybe I had something special on for you 

And that was enough to make his brain go blank, the sentence he was in the middle of typing long forgotten as he stared at the words on his screen. He almost felt guilty how quickly his imagination came up with images of you back on his bed, just like his birthday party, in something short and sexy and—

He almost dropped his phone on his face when it began buzzing in his hand, scrambling to sit up in his bed as he answered. 

“H-Hello?” He cleared his throat, his face burning warmer when he heard your laugh on the other side. 

“You sound a little caught off, Hughes,” you teased, lighthearted and playful. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“I—no!” Luke exclaimed, though something inside him relaxed when you laughed again. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean for it to come off like that. I swear. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“I didn’t think so considering it’s been five minutes since my last message and you hadn’t replied yet. Not really setting the mood there.” 

He shook his head, his lips twitching upwards. “So you’re saying you’re not wearing something special for me?” 

“Unfortunately not. Just some sweats and a hoodie.” 

“Hm,” Luke hummed before frowning, taking a quick glance at the time on his phone before he swore under his breath. “Shit, I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

You laughed and something in his chest tightened as he imagined the soft smile on your face as you did so. “No, I couldn’t get to sleep. I was just watching some random episode of The Vampire Diaries before you called.”

Luke blinked. “The what?” 

You fell silent for a moment. “Tell me you’re joking.” 

He paused as well before he spoke in the most unconvincing voice. “I’m joking?” 

“Forget watching it, how have you never heard of it?!” 

“I don’t know!” Luke defended weakly, shuffling back further against the pillows. “Is this your subtle way of telling me to watch it?”

“No!” 

He frowned. “No?”

“I want to watch it with you. I want to see your reactions.” 

Luke snorted but he didn’t disagree, something fond and warm bubbling in the pit of his stomach at your insistence. “Fine, deal,” he mused. “But it would have at least given me something to do.” 

“Wow, is Jack that boring of a roommate?” 

He laughed. “Nah, he went out with some of the other guys for dinner.” 

“You didn’t feel like joining?” 

“Not really,” he admitted. 

“How come?” 

“Just…didn’t feel like it,” he said, his fingers tugging on the drawstrings of his hoodie as the spiralling thoughts began to creep in again. Like a reminder he wasn’t just lying on his bed back in Jersey talking away to you on the phone, that he was actually on the other side of the country. 

And it seemed like you sensed his reluctance, the shift in his voice like he seemed distant and you wanted to pull him back in.

“So you try to sext me instead?” Your voice was playful and taunting and he could imagine the smirk on your face so clearly. 

“Shut up,” he groaned, his cheeks burning once again. “I didn’t—”

“You so did.”

“That was not my intention at all,” he retorted. 

“Damn, Hughes, didn’t take you for a phone sex kind of a guy?” 

Luke could only thank some superior being above that it wasn’t a facetime call, that you couldn’t see how bad he was blushing. “I am neither a sexting or phone sex kind of guy.��� 

“Boo, it’s more fun than you would think.” 

His nose scrunched up. “I don’t know.” 

“Don’t knock it until you try it, Luke.”

…

Despite being in two very different states, Luke had found himself on the phone with you most nights of the roadie so far.

It wasn’t really a co-dependent thing, like Jack liked to tease him about when he caught Luke waiting for your message saying you were free to call after the game in LA. It was a similar feeling he had with his friends back in Michigan or his brothers, this strong urge to tell you things. He wanted to share it with you, he wanted to tell you about something stupid Jack did in the locker room or the weird drink Curtis smuggled him at dinner. 

And in turn, he wanted to hear about your day too. He wanted to hear about how the nice barista at the coffee shop on the way to work gave you a free cookie because she fucked up your order by accident. He wanted to hear about the way your upstairs neighbour had taken up tap dancing and seemed to only find eleven o’clock at night the most appropriate time to practise. He just wanted to hear you talk. 

Luke was at least self-aware enough to realise he was being a bit insane with the phone calls every night when he was only gone for over a week. But day six into a ten day roadie and he just kind of wished he was chilling on your couch when listening to these stories rather than a nondescript hotel room he shared with his brother with limited privacy. 

However, the phone calls had become such a routine over the last few days that he didn’t even think twice when he picked up his buzzing phone, answering and putting it on speaker as he walked towards his suitcase in only a towel. 

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for your call,” Luke said, an easy smile on his face as he quickly grabbed some clothes to change into after his shower. 

“Really? I didn’t realise you missed me that much. I miss you too, dude.” 

Luke froze, his eyes widening as he snapped his gaze back towards his phone. He quickly grabbed it off his bed, letting out a soft ‘fuck’ when he realised it was Ethan, not you. 

“Luke? You still there?” 

“Uh yeah,” Luke cleared his throat. “Sorry, I just came out of the shower. So, uh, what’s up?” 

“I caught the game, just wanted to make sure you were alright. Looked like a tough game but you were killer out there, bud.” 

He paused, his lips twitching upwards. “You watched the game?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, dude. The boys watch every game we can. Our boy is in the big leagues! We gotta support you.”

“I didn’t know,” he admitted, his chest tightening a little.

“We miss you on the team, gotta get our fix somehow,” Ethan joked, lighthearted and playful. 

And yet, Luke felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Despite flying out for his birthday party, he hadn’t really been messaging the boys back in Michigan as much as he should have. He knew they were also giving him space to settle into the NHL lifestyle and they were busy with classes and such, but his own surprise from Ethan calling confirmed enough that he needed to reach out more. 

“I miss playing with you guys too,” Luke confessed, and it was true. He loved the Devils and he loved living out his dream but a small part of him itched to be back on the ice with his UMich boys again. 

“Yeah but you never threw us around like that.” 

Luke let out a groan, ignoring Ethan’s laughs. “I didn’t mean to knock him over like that, it was just the momentum!” 

Ethan’s laughs only got louder. 

…

It was the night before the Anaheim game when Jack had all but bolted out the room, muttering something about hanging out with Trevor and that he would be back before dinner. 

In all honesty, Luke didn’t question it much. He just waved his brother off, saying he was going to have a small nap before he started getting ready for whatever restaurant Trevor had booked for them (assuring that it would fit their diet plan but Luke wasn’t convinced). Between the travelling and training on the road, Luke found himself more exhausted than he was from back-to-back games in Jersey.

And he genuinely was going to nap until his phone buzzed with a message from you and he found himself dialling your number before he could help himself. 

“A call already? You didn’t even give me a chance to try sexting you.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t see what the point is.” 

“I like hearing you get all flustered and nervous.” 

“Yeah but it’s not really the same thing, is it?” He commented, running a hand through his curls before tugging his hood back over his head. “Surely it’s just a bit…awkward.” 

“It can be hot if you do it right,” you corrected him. “Personally, I think phone sex is better but it can be fun to sext too. Like a thrill, you know?” 

“Yes because nothing sounds sexier than talking about sex,” he mused.

“It’s not like that,” you laughed, shuffling around on the other side of the phone. “Think of it like…foreplay.” 

His brows furrowed together. “In what way?” 

“You aren’t together but you’re telling each other what you would want to do if you were. What you wish you could be doing. And you’re listening to it all, listening to them get off to your words.” 

Luke swallowed harshly. “It still sounds awkward.” 

There was a pause on the other side. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, shifting a little in his spot. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to facetime them and see them?” 

“It’s about using your imagination, Luke,” you hummed, sounding amused by his grasp on phone sex. “It’s about taking the scraps of what they tell you and letting your brain run wild with it.” 

He let out an unconvinced hum.

“Still sceptical?”

“Maybe.” 

There was a small pause before you spoke again. “You’re alone, right?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Luke nodded, even if you couldn’t see him. “Jack won’t be back for another few hours so—”

“So you can be a good boy for me?” 

His brain went blank.

“C’mon, Luke.” He could almost hear the smirk in your voice. “Remember what we said about words?”

“Yeah,” he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I can be…good.”

“I know you can, you’re always so good f’me,” you commented, so nonchalant and casual like your worlds didn’t make his heart beat a little faster. “Tell me what you’re doing right now.” 

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “I’m lying in bed, talking to you. But you know that—”

“What are you wearing?” 

Luke glanced down at himself, the Devils branded hoodie and UMich sweatpants hardly the sexiest of outfit choices but he muttered out his response regardless. “Isn’t that the exact line you teased me about earlier?” 

“You telling me you’re wearing something special just for me?” 

He snorted, despite himself. “Hardly.” 

“That’s fine. You look better without anything anyway. A shame you’re all the way in California, would’ve been nice to have you all to myself.”

He gulped. “Is this where I use my imagination to guess what you’d do to me?” 

“If you want,” you said, laughing softly and it almost felt like you were right there beside him. “Or I could tell you how I miss hearing those pretty noises you make when you come, the little moans you let out when I touch you.” 

“Shit,” he muttered. “How do you just say those things so…easily?” 

“Because I know what I like and I’m confident with saying what I want. And I really like making you come, you’re always so sweet. You get so blushy and shy, it’s cute. I could only imagine what you’d be like when I get my mouth on you.”

Luke squirmed, his hand reaching down to press down on the length of his cock like it would ease the way he was twitching at her words. 

“Would you like that, Luke?”

“Y-Yeah,” he breathed out, nodding even if you couldn’t see him.

“Bet you would look so pretty, all shy and nervous to touch me even if you wanted to,” you continued, his eyes fluttering shut like he could pretend you were really in the room with him, like you were really whispering all of this in his ear. “But I would want you to, Luke. I would wanna feel your hands in my hair, wanna see you take control.” 

“I would,” he mumbled out, his hand slowly stroking himself over his sweatpants as he imagined it. As he imagined being sat on your couch, with you kneeling between his legs and your eyes glued on his reactions. It made his whole body feel hot and flustered. 

“Yeah, baby? You’d take control? Fuck my mouth?” 

He was almost embarrassed by the noise he let out.

“Are you touching yourself right now? Letting your imagination fill in the blanks?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded. 

“Good, baby, good. Keep touching yourself, keep making yourself feel good.”

“Wish it was you,” he managed to mutter out, his cock straining under the fabric of his boxers and sweatpants. However, any embarrassment or lingering awkwardness was long gone as he pushed them down to his knees, not even bothered to kick them off as he got his hand on himself. 

“Yeah? Me too, baby. I wish I was with you now, could watch you squirm and beg f’me with your dick down my throat.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, squeezing the base of his cock as he tried to mimic the night of his birthday, to mimic the feeling of your hand on him instead. “That’s…vulgar.”

You laughed, and it shouldn’t have been so hot to him but it was. “Too much? You don’t want me to talk about how badly I wish that it was you touching me right now?”

“You’re touching yourself right now?” It was almost a wheeze, like the air had been knocked out of his lungs and it hadn’t even hit him until that moment that you were in the same position as him. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, all sweet and high-pitched and it reminded him of the noise you made just before you came on his fingers. “If I was more patient, I would’ve got a toy. Would’ve felt way better.” 

“Toy?” He rasped. 

“Jealous?” You teased, unaware of the way Luke turned his head to the side, biting down on his pillow to hold back his groans as he continued to stroke himself. “I’ll show you when you’re back.” 

“Show me on yourself?” 

“I can use them on you too, pretty boy, if you could handle it.” 

“I…could,” he muttered out, listening to the breathy, moany laugh on the other side of the phone.

“We’ll see,” you hummed. “Maybe I’ll send you a video for your next roadie. Keep you occupied while you’re away.”

“Nuh uh,” he bit out, shaking his head. “This. I like this. I like hearing your voice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, his stomach twisting as his thumb swiped over the head of his cock and rubbed the small bead of precum along his slit. “S’close.” 

“Come f’me, wanna hear you come.”

It was a bit of a mindfuck if Luke was completely honest with himself. The pleasure running down his spine, leaving his body hot and heavy and just as good as it did when he was with you didn’t make sense to him. Listening to the little breathy moans and whines you let out when he came all over his hand, as he listened to you get yourself off shouldn’t have made his dick twitch so soon. He shouldn’t have been able to make himself come so hard just from some dirty talk from you, and yet he had. 

Though, Luke didn’t have a lot of explanations when it came to the way you made him feel.

“You still there?” 

“Yeah,” he hummed, his eyes still shut as he laid on the bed, practically melting into the sheets beneath him. “Kinda need that nap now.”

You snorted. “You should clean up before you fall asleep.” 

“Five minutes,” he murmured out, a lazy smile on his face as your laugh echoed through the phone.

…

He was rushing to button up his shirt when his phone rang again. 

He was already running late for the reservations Trevor made for dinner (if the constant stream of messages from Jack was telling him anything) and his nap lasted longer than he expected. But he couldn’t bite back his smile as he reached for his phone, his thumb already swiping to answer the call as he rummaged through his suitcase to find his cologne. 

“You’re out of luck if you’re wanting to go for a round two,” Luke mused once the call had connected, an odd wave of confidence in his voice as he spoke. 

“Round two of what?” 

Luke froze, yanking his phone away from his ear to see Quinn’s name on his screen. He let out a muttered ‘what the fuck’ under his breath, an odd sense of deja vu from his phone call with Ethan washing over him before he quickly answered his eldest brother. 

“Uh, nothing,” he laughed off, resisting the urge to yank on his own hair after he had spent the better part of the last fifteen minutes trying to make his curls look presentable. “Just some…exercise challenge thing Jack and I were trying out.” 

“And you think he would call you about it? Aren’t you two together right now?” 

“Yes. No!” Luke shook his head at himself. “No, he’s in Nico’s room right now.” 

“I thought you were getting dinner with Trevor?” 

“Right,” Luke laughed once again, awkward and strained. “We are. He just…had to tell Nico something first. You know Jack! Just…always attached to Nico’s hip.”

There was a moment of silence before Quinn spoke again. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I feel great, actually! Speaking of, I need to go so I’ll call you later. Okay, great, bye!” 

He slammed the small red button until the call disconnected, throwing his phone down on his bed and letting out a long, deep sigh. He really needed to start looking at his phone before answering calls, it was getting a bit ridiculous. 

Luke finished getting ready, shoving some shoes on and making his way towards the elevator as he began typing out a message before slipping his phone into his pocket, already preparing himself for Jack’s whining about how late he is by the time he reached the lobby.

hockey boy: remind me to give you a personalised ringtone when i’m back in jersey

.

[steviewashere]

I want to write something sort of meta, hear me out on it. Sorry, if this hits too close to home. The idea came to me and I needed to get it out of my system. And...would you look at that, another half-written fic.

Steve ends up getting really into Star Wars after Dustin shows him to it. Like, so much that he gets himself involved with conventions, cosplay, collecting anything and everything he can. He's involved in a fandom space. Learns the world of fan fiction. And let's say that maybe, during his time figuring out where he wants to go with life, he picks up writing fanfic as a hobby.

It encourages him to get an English degree. Encourages him to lean more into that hobby, but then expanding upon it to write original short stories and small novels that go published. But he holds strong to Star Wars and fandom and finding his spot cemented in it. He's been a fan for...nearly forty years at this point (set in 2024, ugh I know).

And maybe he dabbles in online spaces here and there. He ignores the insufferable adults in the Star Wars fandom (the "um, actually..." guys, btw). Indulges the effort of typing out his handwritten fan fiction, ones he used to bring and pass around at conventions, ones he'd let Eddie read with a shy look in his eyes. And he posts them online, has a Tumblr account, maybe does a few short things on Twitter, definitely is on AO3 (albeit newer, having never attempted online fan work before).

But then...then he gets his first little bit of hate. Vicious, gross comments on his work. Sometimes in private messages. Even publicly, once, on Twitter. It irks him. He holds strong, he does. But then it gets worse and worse and somehow, worse. Younger people claiming he's too old, others claiming that he can't write for certain characters because they're out of his age range, that he can't ship certain people, he can't say that a character would do this or that, that Star Wars is media for a younger audience (despite being somebody who saw it "back in the day"). But that he...That he's not supposed to be there.

And that last little comment sticks with him for a long time. It makes his effort and his attention and his love for writing fanworks falter. He stops. Thinks about the characters he loves, of Leia and Han or even Luke and Han or Lando and Han (listen he loves writing Han). But then he wonders if it's even worth it, to indulge this interest anymore. Yeah, maybe he's older than the source material. Sure, maybe he was introduced to it a little later than most, but that doesn't mean he doesn't love it. Yet, his attention towards Star Wars completely falls away.

He stops watching it. His DVDs going dusty and unused. Starts putting away all his action figures, because what if he posts a photo one day and somebody sees them and claims that that's not for him and—

Then, he goes completely offline from fandom. Even if he still gets the emails from users who actually enjoy his stuff, ignoring them completely. Focuses on using the internet for work. For his novels, for the little stories he actually gets paid to write. But his work just isn't the same. The passion, despite being an original story and original source material, is completely dwindled.

His hobby has been stripped from him. His interest has been knocked straight out of his hands. And he just...moves on.

Even if it hurts to go down into the basement of he and Eddie's home, eyes catching on the see-through bins of original action figures, Lego sets, comic books. Even if it makes something strangle in his chest when he opens up the browser on his phone and it immediately opens to a new ship he'd been getting into: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker—because he finally picked up The Mandalorian, because he was finally talked into watching it when he had the free time.

And then it all bursts over when Eddie finally approaches him about it, when they're enjoying a night-in, sitting around lazily on their sofa.

"There's a convention coming into town," he comments, "supposedly, Hayden Christensen is going to be there. We should go, try and meet him."

Steve just grunts in response.

"Oh-kay...or we could just stay home and watch the movie?" Eddie suggests. "Been a while since I've seen Darth on screen, telling Luke about"—

"I don't want to," Steve cuts in quietly, "isn't really my thing anymore."

Silence then follows. For a beat. Then two. A third.

"Not your thing?" Eddie asks him incredulously. "Not too long ago you were raving all about that new show that's coming out! That you saw they were doing lightsaber whips and you were excited to see how they worked! What do you mean it's 'not your thing'?"

Steve shrugs. "Grew out of it or whatever. Got more important things to focus on now." He sniffs, trying to keep himself held together, grumpy and firm in his decision.

Eddie's stare drills into the side of his face. Scalding, just like that lava was in Revenge of The Sith. "Baby," he speaks softly, "did something happen? You haven't even...you don't read your beautiful little stories to me anymore. In fact, now that I think about it, I haven't even seen your lightsabers around here. What's goin' on?"

He fiddles with the hem of his shirt. A ratty plain white t-shirt that he wears now when he's lounging around the house. It used to be one with the Millennium Falcon on it, but that's tucked down far in his dresser. Not for him anymore.

"Steve," Eddie presses, "did something happen?"

His stare stays down at his lap, still fiddling with his shirt. Fingers flexing unfamiliarly in the strings, unlike the loose ones on his Star Wars shirts. "I just"—Steve heaves a deep sigh—"it's time I grow up. It's...not for me anymore. Too old for it now, I guess."

"You guess or you know? Because nobody's too old for anything. Unless, y'know, you're like eighty-nine and in terrible health and trying to hike Everest, then..."

Despite everything, Steve finds himself chuckling. A giddy little sound here and gone in a breath. He shrugs again, albeit smaller this time. Crumbling within himself. Quietly, honestly, he admits, "People were being mean to me about it online. About my writing. That I'm doing it wrong, that I—that I'm too old for it. That I don't belong because of my age." He finally brings himself to look at Eddie, blearily because his eyes are aching and wet. "I got to thinking and I...maybe I've just been too caught up in my own bliss to realize that those people are right. They're right and I shouldn't be into kids stuff anymore."

Eddie makes a soft, sad cooing noise in the back of his throat. "Oh, baby," he breathes. "Baby, those people don't know a single damn thing about your love. But...but I do. I know that you've seen every single Star Wars movie more times than I've probably eaten in my entire life. And what about all those Halloween costumes over the years? I didn't dress up like Leia for nothing, Mr. Solo."

Steve scoffs wetly. Goes to protest, but—

"And...and that handshake! The one with Dustin? You guys have had that for nearly forty fucking years! So, why bother indulging any of these...these hardasses on the internet? Did they sit next to you on the sofa as you fucking curled yourself like a shrimp and wrote every little intricate detail of a kiss between Luke and Han? Have they read your work while you blushed all shy, while you tucked your hair behind your ear and asked for the most earnest of feedback, to make sure you spelt things correctly or put a comma in the right place? These people, did they get to see you blossom and grow like a fucking bushel of roses over your hobby?

"Because I know I did. And even though you were nervous about your words on the paper, you still came to me. You still wrote and wrote and wrote until I had to bully you into breaks, just so you wouldn't ruin your poor wrists. If they had even an ounce of the passion that you do, they could write their own stories. They can make their own endings and make the characters the way they imagine them.

"They choose, instead, to—what—make fun of you because you have a space to express yourself? Because you found passion and turned it into something so beautiful, even I—a dungeon master, someone supposed to be amazing at storytelling—can't put into words? You found a way to do that, Steve. And you do that with kindness. You do it for free, mind you. If their only passion sits within sending you vitriol over people who aren't even remotely close to real, then they're the ones who don't belong.

"If I've learned anything, fandom is a space to share and bounce off each other's words. It's community and it's belonging and it's sharing what you love because you just love it. Fandom isn't bullying. Bullying is just bullying, Steve.

"And everything you've ever done in your life, in regards to fandom and outside of it, is so much better than hate. You may be a nerd or...or a little bit overzealous or whatever, but at least you aren't hateful. I think being hateful, that's worse—don't you think?"

Steve can only stare in response, fast tears down his cheeks, hands shaking in his shirt. Mind reeling. Because, yes, Eddie's right. And he maybe should've talked about it initially, but the hurt festered and festered and tangled and grew until he was nothing but an unhealed scab. And Eddie, he's the antiseptic to his uncovered cuts—the ones deep on his heart, where all his love is—even for things considered mundane, like movies, like TV shows.

"Steve," Eddie carefully murmurs, wrapping Steve's hands with his own, "you don't have to do something right to love it. You don't have to be a certain way to be happy. If Star Wars made you happy, then why give it up?"

He sniffles and chokes back on a sob. Because, again—damnit—Eddie's right. "I miss it," he admits quietly, "all I've done is miss it."

Eddie gives him a small smile. Something achingly soft that reaches deep within Steve. "Then open your arms and welcome it back, baby," he whispers, "even if you can't be online anymore, do it for yourself."

"I...I want to try it again, I'm just...scared. What if people hate it all over again? What if they're just nasty to me and shut me down and push me to the side and"—

"But what if they love it? What if your readers have missed you just as much?"

"You think?" he meekly asks.

Eddie's eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "I know, actually. Your emails keep coming in on the computer's desktop because I keep forgetting to log you out. And, baby, you would not believe how many people have been eager for updates, for your return." His thumbs work into the backs of Steve's hands, warm and sure. "And, if it helps, maybe I can moderate your comments before you look at 'em? I'll read them to myself and if they're mean, I'll delete them."

Steve blows out a breathy little chuckle. "You'll just get mad at them," he gently teases. "But that doesn't sound too bad. Maybe I should try again. Not yet, though. I'm not ready."

"That's okay," Eddie assures, "take things slow. Maybe we start with watching the movies again? Getting your lightsabers back on display?"

"Can we go to the convention, too?"

"We can do whatever you want, Stevie."

For the first time in a long while, Steve finds himself smiling. "I love you," he whispers.

"I know."

[murdrdocs]

ghostface!luke; reader is v off; MDNI 18+ based on a req from beloved 🍒 anon w/ LUKE CASTELLAN

you don't notice him at first.

you're too focused on trying to locate your charger, mentally retracing your steps from earlier in the day. your back to the opened door, your shoulder facing the window, your eyes staring unfocused up at the ceiling as you attempt to remember if you had your charger before or after you went for a shower.

the creak of your floorboard is covered up by the loud horror movie sting coming from the living room. the sound of your door shutting is shadowed by your friends screams, and when they become muffled you attribute it to a hand over the mouth rather than you being cut off from the others.

you remember where your charger is. you approach your bed, shaking the covers to find it. there, sticking off the side of the bed. you climb atop the mattress—uncaring of how compromising your position is. it's only you in there after all—and reachhh for the charger. as soon as it's in your hand, you stand. and that's when you notice him.

the feeling of a presence other than your own in the bedroom. the warmth of someone being right behind you. the sound of breathing, amplified by something that almost restricts their exhales.

without even turning around, you know who it is.

the man your friends thought they left behind across the country. the man that sliced your friend's arm, nicked their cheeks, slammed them against walls, and then left you there to witness it all. the man you all convinced yourselves would never show face again, not with the police detail strolling the halls and watching the entrances.

you don't move, not yet. your eyes search for a weapon, for something that could buy you enough time to get everyone out of your apartment. just when your eyes latch onto your lamp sitting on your bedside, he beats you to it.

his hands latch onto your shoulder and hip, directing you forcefully into the nearest wall where he pushes you up against it. he pushes his body into yours, keeping you still against the wall.

really, you both know it's unnecessary. it's unlikely that you'll ever actually try to run away.

you push your ass back against him, already attempting to communicate how you think this should go. you know he feels the same when he returns the message, giving you one well crafted grind back into you.

through the thin fabric of your shorts, you can feel the denim of his jeans. heavy, sturdy, familiar. the last time he wore these particular ones they were soaked in blood. soon enough, you soaked them, too. you wonder if he got either substance out since then.

you're about to tell him to hurry. that you don't have much time before grover comes looking for you with an urgent claim that his phone is going to die.

but then you feel it. the metal of a knife pressed against the front of your throat, slipped in the tight space between the skin and the wall. one move from either of you and blood is drawn.

the situation should be threatening. it is threatening. your tv loud enough to drown out your screams. a man stronger and more capable than you behind you, with you being completely at his mercy.

"do you want me to scream?" you ask him, your words more sacarstic and teasing than they should be, given the circumstances. maybe you would beg for your life if you didn't know luke.

you know he's going to throw you on the bed. you know he's going to force your legs over his shoulders. you know he's going to hold the knife against your throat for as long as he's interested in, all while he fucks you within an inch of your life.

and he does. he does all of it, one hand holding metal to your untouched skin and the other muffling your screams of pleasure (just in case) all while you stared into the cold slits of the white mask. one of the original masks, he'd boasted about it when it was first acquired.

and when he's done, he sends you out of the room with a lopsided smile, his promise that he'll be back later echoing in your otherwise empty head.

you don't know what he'll be back for but you have a couple of guesses.

[saltandfire-blog]

All Time Favorite Lucemond Fics

Thought I’d post some baddies to help us heal from this last season.

ñuhon - When Lucerys lives and wakes up to oblivion, Aemond decides that—more than an eye for an eye—Lucerys in his entirety would be for Aemond to completely own.

In other words: Omega Lucerys survives yet loses his memories, and Alpha Aemond takes his revenge on him creatively.

Holy fuck, this might actually be one my favorite fics of all time. INCREDIBLY well written and perhaps one of the most tragic/romantic lucemond pieces I’ve ever read. I also find myself adoring the Daeron/Joffrey dynamic that is unexpectedly thrown in that I didn’t know I wanted.

all I had to give - Lucerys has waited for Aemond to find him again since his fall. He is only surprised it took this long.

I think this was technically my first a/b/o lucemond verse fic that blew my heart away. Aemond and Luke’s portrayal in this might actually be my favorite. And the added Alysmond is a +❤️

real gods require blood - Before King Viserys I Targaryen draws his last breath, the Greens make their move. Rhaenyra Targaryen and her family find themselves prisoners in the Red Keep, cut off from their dragons and at the mercy of a new king.

Terrified of what fate awaits his family, Lucerys Velaryon turns to the only person at court willing to help him, no matter the price he has to pay.

Or: Lucerys offers himself in exchange for his family’s safety. Aemond could never refuse.

Not only is this fucking incredible to read, it might be my favorite smutty fic out there. The dialogue between Aemond and Luke just hits sooooo amazingly, this is one of those fics I go back to regularly to reread. I await the authors part 2 of this with baited breath!

Consanguinity - When the bastard Addam of Hull claims Seasmoke, it throws House Velaryon into disarray. All except Corlys, who spies the perfect opportunity to help his heir out of the delicate situation he has found himself in with an impromptu suggestion.

Though quite why Prince Aemond seems so affronted by the match is anyone’s guess.

Speaking of fics I go back to reread - this is definitely another one!! @nashiriel is an absolutely incredible writer and I can’t wait to see where she goes with this! I don’t like to spoil other people’s work…but I love a pregnant Lucerys a/b/o verse with a deliciously angsty twist ❤️

Divenire - Lucerys survives Storm's End however now he needs to survive Aemond, his obsession over a debt paid and the Dance of the Dragons.

This is one of the first Lucerys/Aemond fics that blew my mind. Is it insanely demented and toxic? Yes. Is it amazingly well written? YES! You decide if it’s your cup of tea, but I always return back to this one every once in a while when I want a pure hate no happy ending fic.

Heir of the Tides series - In 120 AC, Aemond Targaryen lost an eye to his nephew. In 129 AC, he demands the price to be paid.

Later on, Lucerys Velaryon will tell his mother that it was a fair exchange. (or, the author went out and wrote the eye fic she so wanted to read).

I admit, I am an absolute sucker for the idea of Luke taking his own eye out. Add on top of that a Luke who takes more of a role in his Velaryon inheritance - and can’t forget the battle of the Gullet 🤌🏻 !! Definitely a series to invest in.

Life for life, eye for eye - Aemond finds his nephew, somehow surviving the death of his dragon over Shipbreaker Bay, washed ashore, an empty socket where his right eye should be. The message, to Aemond, is obvious: the gods have given Luke to him, to do with him as he sees fit.

Meanwhile, when Luke wakes up, prisoner to his uncle, his world quickly narrows to one thing and one thing alone: surviving, so he can return to his mother, and the rest of his family, alive.

--

In which Aemond surpasses Daemon for title of 'worst uncle' by several miles and Luke suffers.

Ok so please beware, this is about as dark as it gets. If you’re triggered easily, this isn’t the fic for you. It explores extreme Lima and Stockholm syndrome forsure, but if you’re into this ship I’m sure you must know it consists of a broad spectrum of very dark, toxic fics, and this is one that just so happens is amazingly well written. Please keep in mind, if you don’t like, don’t fucking read.

Portrait of a Prince on Fire - Ser Luke Strong, legitimised bastard of the lord of Harrenhal, has found favour at the sumptuous court of Viserys I as a court painter. But he is also Lucerys Waters, unacknowledged bastard of Princess Rhaenyra of Dragonstone. The secret of his true parentage and the life he could’ve had eats him up, and he drowns his regrets in drink and brawling.

Prince Aemond hasn’t been seen outside court since he lost his eye, over a decade ago. Now he is about to be wed — and the king commissions Luke to paint the portrait that will be sent to Aemond’s betrothed.

They hate each other at first sight — but as Viserys lies dying, the portrait sets them on a collision course that will send them spiralling inexorably together. And as the realm descends into war, they will have to decide whether to hold on to each other as the world they knew begins to shatter.

Another fic I am completely obsessed with! @fruitageoforanges has probably written one of my all time favorite portrayals of Aemond and I love the refreshing take on Lucerys I’ve never seen done before in this ship. A 17th century AU that has an awesome amount of fashion I adore and is an absolute must read 😉❤️

Star-Crossed - Lucerys is taken captive by the Greens after his fall. When Aemond is assigned as his constant guard, and so constant companion, the romance that blooms between them spins the Dance of the Dragons on its head.

Or: two young lovers from rival factions of the royal family come together in a violent world.

I can’t list off lucemond fics without giving this one an honorable mention.

Dirección de la Luz - A decade had passed since Hwa Yeong was exiled from Yin. He had traveled through the entire empire three times and still had not found his death.

Until one day he met the dragon prince.

Or: Pregnant and solely with the company of his dragon Arrax, Lucerys Velaryon travels to the Yi Ti Empire and begins a new life away from his family and Aemond Targaryen.

A fic published in Spanish, but there is a translated version linked or you can translate yourself as I found myself doing because this story drew me in SO hard I couldn’t wait for the translator to update lol. This is such an original idea and SO fascinating to read with the authors portrayal of Yi Ti culture with such amazing detail!! I can’t give this author enough praise and encouragement to keep going!

the beast you’ve made of me - Lucerys Velaryon is no coward. He is frightened. He is alone. He is a bastard. He is a prisoner of a war he would do anything to stop. But he is no coward.

Lucerys survives Shipbreaker Bay. Aemond is baptised in the storm. This is the aftermath.

If you want Team Green Lucerys, this is your story. When you have to join the enemy to save your family with long term goals, Luke really goes through it in this one, but the political seesaw between his love for Aemond and his family is fabulous to read unfold 🤌🏻

Hope I’ve given you guys some beauties to read if you haven’t already 💎🗡️🩸

Lucemond is a beautiful, terrible place 😉

(Tried to @ as many as I could that are here on tumblr)

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter ten:

➴ warnings: none :)

➴ word count: 1k

➴ author’s note: and finally, the last chapter of IYLM,LMK. this one’s a bit shorter but i wrote a longer epilogue for you guys :) i’ve been writing stories since i was ten years old but this is the first time i finish the entire thing and actually like it. don’t know how to thank each and every one of you for reading what i write and for appreciating it as much as i do. but thank you.

sophiamontenegro

liked by billboard, arianagrande, tyla and 3,802,901 others.

sophiamontenegro make me yours is officially, well, yours now!!!!

every time i release something i feel extremely lucky and grateful, no matter what. today, i’m more than happy to share this part of me with you all. we’ve been working on this album for a whole year now and it’s insane how much things can change in such a short amount of time.

i’ve learned a lot about myself during this whole process and it’s crazy yet so rewarding. this album is a message to everyone i love and to young sophia, specially.

hope u enjoy!!!!! 💙

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morgan.grace Soph, i can’t tell you how PROUD i am. I’ve known you for almost six years now, and i pray every. Single. Day. That we have the rest of our lives together. I love you so much! Happy horny album day! 💙

sophiamontenegro @morgan.grace i love u

lovssoph I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

ilovehockey12 Jack can u fight lol

ellievlasic woaaaaaaah

njdevils sophia MONTENEGRO 💜

_quinnhughes Congrats Soph!

sophiamontenegro @_quinnhughes thanks quinny!

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes @sophiamontenegro Y’all coming for dinner tonight ?

_quinnhughes @lhughes_06 You could’ve just texted

soph_wh0r3 I’m so in love with this album, horny sophia is my favorite sophia

user11939 thats that me espresso indeed

jackhughes I wonder who inspired you to write these songs

crazy4hockey @.jackhughes crazy shit to say tbh

— ♡

IN the beginning of January, you started writing your sixth album. Well, you started writing it officially, with the help of your songwriters and producers, because truthfully, you’d been writing it since you and Jack started seeing each other— just some random lines here and there in your Notes app on your phone, that quickly turned into songs.

Months passed and life got extremely busy. People seemed to be very interested in your relationship with Jack, in a weird, almost comical way. Several social media managers have already contacted your team to ask for your participation in YouTube videos, interviews and TikToks, but you refused most of them.

You didn’t mind about talking about Jack or spending time with him in studios, but you knew it wasn’t his cup of tea— even if he never said anything— so you just tried to separate your love life from your career.

The New Jersey Devils failed to make the Stanley Cup Playoffs, and Jack was really upset about it, just like Luke, Nico and the rest of the team, because despite what happened back in November, they all worked really hard.

Time passed after that, and it was summer again, one year since you and Jack started seeing each other. Sometimes, sitting on the bench at his and Quinn’s summer house, you ask yourself if things weren’t moving too fast. In less than a year, your life changed in ways you never even imagined before and you didn’t know if it was scary or not.

But whenever you thought of Jack, you remembered his thick, beautiful lashes, blond hair decorating his arms and legs, blue eyes that brought the ocean to you, smile that brightened the world.

You remembered how he took care of you, how he’d listen to your songs and recommend them to people, how he’d go to your concerts whenever he had the chance, and how he was often seen wearing your merch around town whenever the two of you weren’t together. How he’d watch you perform and congratulate you every time. How he’d spontaneously post pictures of you on his Instagram account, and how he’d reply to some of your fans' comments.

You had been right all along; Jack is your forever. He’s it for you.

You feel the sweet, cold breeze hit your face and you smile, watching as Jack, Quinn and Luke played with each other inside the lake, while Hischier talked with Ellen and Jim.

“Can you believe this is our life?” You asked, quietly.

“Actually, yeah, I can,” Grace replied beside you, laughing. “The only crazy thing about this is us falling in love with hockey players. Didn’t see that coming.”

“Right,” you nodded. “I can't imagine myself with anyone else though. That’s bad,” you joked.

“I don't know if it is that bad,” she shrugged. “Jack loves you a lot. That man can’t stop staring at you even when you’re ten feet away from him.”

You laughed, turning your head back in Jack’s direction, finding those blue eyes you loved so much immediately, who was now running towards you, with his body drenched.

“No, Jack, stay away!” You yelled, getting up quickly and running away from him.

“Soph!”

You started laughing, which made you lose your pace, making it easier for Jack to wrap his wet, cold arms around your body, wetting your white dress.

“Jack, stop, you’re making me wet!”

“That’s what she said,” he whispered in your ear, picking you up and making you wrap your legs around his waist. “Hi, Soph.” He smiled.

You gave in and kissed his lips, smiling softly as he kissed you back.

“Hi, Jack Hughes.”

He put you down and turned you around, wrapping his hands around your waist and resting his chin on your head. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

That surprised you, and you felt yourself smiling even wider. “Not when you joined the Devils? Not when I won a VMA? Not when I gave you a blowjob just this morning—”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, kissing your cheek. “Those are all super happy moments but right now, here with you, baby… I’ll never be this happy again.”

A few years later, you’d look back at that moment and think, oh, Jack, baby, that’s just the beginning. Because he would say the same thing years later, when he kissed you at the altar, or when he held your daughter for the first time.

“I get what you mean,” you snuggled closer, ignoring the wet clothes. “I’ve been happy before. I am happy. But this… this is different.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “So different.”

“Will I ruin the moment if I say I need to go pee?” You bit your lip.

Jack laughed out loud and picked you up again. “I love you, Sophia Montenegro.”

“I love you more, Jack Hughes,”

“Well,” he kissed your cheek. “I think that’s up for debate.”

“Well. Maybe.”

— ♡

jackhughes

liked by _quinnhughes, nhl, dawson1417 and 210,912 others.

jackhughes lucky fella. @sophiamontenegro

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morgan.grace saurrrr cuteeeee I love you guys

user0092383 ADOPT ME PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

j86wife imma start doing cocaine…

gia_william i wanted to hate on them so bad but they lowkey fire asf :/

keylaasher soph when u hug him, remember you’re hugging my whole world… 💔

nicohischier ❤️

njdevilsmemes Ain’t no way he can handle all of that

trevorzegras @njdevilsmemes he can’t.

jackhughes @.trevorzegras fuck off

| EPILOGUE |

[mrscolinbridgerton96]

I will say this once to all the toxic b*tches on the internet (they know exactly who they are). Hell, I’ll shout it from the fucking rooftops if I must. I hope all the so-called “fans” online see this.. and have it burned into their speck of dust sized brains.

Luke is not destroying his career… YOU are- by spreading lies about him and harassing him online. You think there aren’t talent agencies that see all this bullshit?! I’m sure there are, but that’s beside the point. You claim that you’re “holding him accountable for bad behavior” (of which is nonexistent), yet in reality.. you’re just spreading lies because you apparently don’t have lives outside of the Bridgerton fandom or even social media in general. The call is clearly coming from inside the house- but I digress.

Some of y’all literally have a rock for a skull.. and it shows. Calling and messaging the hotel he stayed at because you wanted to know who he was with. What the Hell is wrong with you people?! Y’all literally need to be punched right in the mouth!!

What pisses me off the most is that y’all are old enough to know better. You know what you’re doing is wrong- you just don’t care.

I just hope and pray to God that Luke knows that not every fan in the Bridgerton fandom is like that. I hope he knows that some fans actually RESPECT him enough to not overstep boundaries or overanalyze everything he posts- that some fans in the fandom want him to be happy regardless of who he’s with.

[writing-appreciation]

The Office

Synopsis: You are promoted to the Unit Chief of Crime Scene Investigation. Moving in to your new office, some familiar faces help you settle in. Others, a little more than others... in his own way.

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE. Didn't proofread before I chose to upload this. Sorry in advance.

"Uh, actually, Pen, so sorry, can you actually set that box on the desk? That one has all my stationery." I said in a strained voice, trying to gesture to my desk, but the boxes I was carrying blocked my view.

"I totally would, my leige, but the boys have not quite gotten your megadesk in here yet." She rushed to me to help me destack my boxes that were dangerously close to toppling over as I struggled to keep my grip on them.

"Oh! Thanks you Freaky fashinova you!" I smiled at her help.

"Ladies, not to bother our new CSI Unit Chief, but this desk is a little heavy and you're standing exactly where we need to put it."

We both turned to see Derek, partially in the room, and Luke holding up the other side of the desk, but outside the room.

"Sorry, guys, we'll move!" I quickly apologized and began to move myself.

"Tall, dark, and muscles, you can move me any time you want." Penelope said while exchanging glances with the two men trying to move my desk into the room.

"Listen, Mama, any other time, but right now, my fingers are too sore to play these games right now. So move your perfectly fine ass.. please."

Penelope did move out of the spot after a few seconds of prolonged eye contact with Derek.

"Uh, as a Unit Chief, do I have an obligation to report this as sexual nature?" I asked, while adjusting my glasses and picking up a clipboard from an open box.

That comment caused an outburst of laughter to fill the room.

"Y'know, (L/n) don't you have a team yourself that could help you move all this stuff into here? Feels like your already abusing your power." Luke jokingly said as he adjusted his side of the desk to line up with the space I had cleared for it earlier in the day.

"Well, Agent Alvarez, you can thank Penelope, who graciously volunteered you and Morgan to move the heavy stuff into here." I clapped my hands together. And leaned on the now placed desk.

An array of beeps coming from all their phones interrupted him before he could rebutle.

"Let me guess, a serial killer loose on the east coast, oooh, no the Midwest?" I exclaimed as they each read their messages.

Derek was the first to look up and nod his head sadly.

"Four kids, all below the age of ten, abducted, brutally beaten, and then.." He trailed off.

Penelope and Luke shared a knowing look.

"Well, don't let me keep you, go, go save the kids." I smiled sadly while shooing them out of my office.

The three of them left and began their decent down to the BullPen, gathering their BAU team mates along the way.

It was weird being up here, being able to quite literally, have the higher ground to the agents below me, many of whom I have developed close friendships with over the years.

While watching the three agents join the rest of their teammates, I heard a familiar clearing of a throat which made me pull my attention to a friendly face leaning against my door frame.

"Dr. Reid, hello." I smiled, nodding in his direction.

"Dr. (L/n). Your office is a bit more chaotic than I expected." He gestured to several boxes, and scattered case files littering the tops of closed boxes, my makeshift desk before this new one came in.

"Well, considering I have only had this space for a week, and during 5 out of those 7 days, I was busy consulting with the Miami Dade Police with a few gruesome crime scenes curtosey of an unsub your team happened to catch while also in Miami, I haven't had much time to.. decorate." I raised my arms in gesture to the scattered boxes around me.

He laughed, now inviting himself into my office, carefully picking up a loose photo frame from an open box. A small smile creeped onto his face as he looked at the photo.

"Not that I don't enjoy your company, Reid, but don't you guys have a case to review before you leave?"

"Actually, not going. I'm guest lecturing at Virgina State this week. By the end of the week, if they still need me, I'll meet them out there. So, if you were to need any help..decorating I am available."

I smirked at his choice of words, knowing what photo he has in is hand. To any other, unsuspecting, eye, it appears to be a photo of an abstract piece of art. Lots of paint smears, random hand prints scattered along the canvas. But the two of us knew the story behind that photo. And it was a real work of art.

"Y'know," I began, kicking myself off of my desk, "now that I have a whole office, and not a tiny little desk, I might actually hang that painting here above my desk. Penelope said she thought the use of colors were.. emotion invoking."

He let out a breathy laugh and gently set the photo down, now taking a step closer to the window. "Ha, did she? It sure did invoke alot of emotion during its creation." He ran his finger along my window sill, raising it to find it dust-free.

"Yes, Dr. Reid. Very..cathartic I would say." I smirked. "Also, if you're looking for any signs of dust, don't you worry, I went through with a feather duster this morning."

"Good girl."

I bit my lip, to hold back a response to that. We, afterall, were still in semi-public. My door was wide open, blinds open, if somebody was walking by, they surely would have heard us talking. And God forbid anybody were to see a Unit Chief and a simple agent sharing a rather sexual verbal exchange.

But there was nothing simple about this man and I and our relationship. We have tiptoed around that imaginary line, separating agents from "fragernizing" with one another for so long. Some times that line was completely kicked to the side and forgotten during those (excitingly long, but wonderful) nights we spent in one another's bed.

It's borderline criminal- the hold that man has on me. And it's not just about the sex. That part is great and all, but it's the connection we have that makes this..situationship as great as it is.

Spencer said it best one night after a particularly rough case both my CSI team, and his BAU team collaborated on. We both had some...frustrations to get out and it made for a rather intense night once we got back to Quantico. But it's what followed the intensity that sealed the deal for me on Dr. Spencer Reid.

A tense, but comfortable air settled in the room as I laid on the bed, exhausted from what I believe was the sixth orgasm of the night. I stopped counting after three. Spencer would surely know, but he ran off to gather a couple drinks for us.

As I began to pry myself from the bed, I heard the familiar bedroom door open.

"Hey, lay back down, let me clean you up."

I made eye contact with the lanky man approaching me. He had a couple water bottles, and a dishtowel in his hand that appeared to be wet.

I think he caught on to my confusion and responded, "I mean, if you'll let me. You can clean yourself too if you want. I just feel kinda bad, I took alot of this case out on you just now." He awkwardly shifted from heel to heel.

I couldn't keep my laugh in. It wasn't a laugh at him persay. I just thought it was funny that awkward little Spencer Reid, eloquent DR. Reid, SSA Reid who has stopped hundreds of literal psychopaths without batting an eye, stood here in front of me who was still completely naked, heaving like a caged animal after the activities we just did, and he somehow felt more out of place than I did. In his own apartment. His literal bedroom.

"Really, Reid, it's fine. You don't have to clean me up because you feel guilty. I had a good time. No boundaries crossed. Honestly, I kinda needed a good time." I said, once again starting to sit up.

"(Y/n), please, I just. It takes two to make the mess. Let me clean you up a bit. I can draw us a bath? A nice massage? I bought more of that Chamomile Lavender tea you liked, and stocked up on the sleep massage oil you are obsessed with." He broke his eye contact to rush to the corner of his room, to his fully stocked tea/coffee bar.

It used to just be a coffee bar, until I found myself spending the night more and more often. And so there was an electric tea kettle, several different types of tea I have brought myself, for when I knew I would be spending time at his apartment.

But my mind stayed hooked on the fact that he said, ' I bought more of that Chamomile Lavender tea you liked..'

Idetic memory, Spencer Reid, remembering a fact like this wasn't all too surprising. It's the fact that he bothered to put effort into keeping things I like in his space. He was quick to recommend me keeping a whole dresser in his bedroom. Not just a drawer, oddly cramed with things. It's like he wants me here longer than just a simple bed buddy. And the thought of that made my heart ache.

I was pulled out of my trance when I heard water running from his bathroom. I looked up, curiously, meeting his eyes as he left the bathroom and rejoined me in the bedroom.

"You took too long to decide, so I decided for you, we're taking a bath and you're getting a massage. Here's your tea." He held put a mug with my initials on it.

This mug was also a new addition.

"Uh, t-thanks." I stuttered as I accepted the mug from him, examining it up close.

It was my favorite color. Favorite shape of mug. Hell my initials were done in my favorite font. But what caught me most off guard was the inscription on the handle

'For my favorite flower'

I turned the mug around to see the other side, and low and behold, there was a hand drawn image of my birth flower- his favorite flower.

"Wow, Reid, I love this mug." I gasped, still appreciating it.

"(Y/n)-" He seemed to want to say more, but cut himself off.

"Let get into that bath." He held his hand out, and I gladly accepted it with the hand that was not holding my tea.

He was first to get in, he smiled, so wide it almost hurt my cheeks to see him smiling like.. like a lovestruck idiot. I couldn't help but join his smile, and lay myself into the bath, in front of him. I eased into his chest almost immediately. The hot water was helping to sooth my aching muscles from the earlier activities. Spencer laid his chin on the top of my head and began absent-mindedly stroking my shoulders, which gradually transitioned to a full blown massage.

This was bliss.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He whispered into my ear.

His voice sent goosebumps down my arms, undoubtedly he felt.

"This is just nice." I sank further down into the tub, turning slightly to catch a partial glimpse of him.

He hummed in response and gently swiped a fallen strand of hair from my forehead. This simple gesture made me feel like a 17 year old girl again. The feeling of butterflies fluttering in my stomach made me so nervous, but I didn't want the moment to end.

"It's Spencer." He said with a smile, his eyes flicking to my lips and back to my eyes.

"Hmm?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

He scrunched his face in laugher and cleared his throat.

"My name is Spencer." He repeats, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Uh.. yeah? Kinda found that out a while ago." I laughed, still confused as to why he suddenly was saying his name.

"You still call me 'Reid'."

"Well, yeah you're Spencer Reid. The 'Reid' part is kind of a part of your name."

"Yeah, but when you call me 'Reid' it feels like you still see me as just a coworker."

Pretty sure my heart broke just then.

I quickly turned to face him fully, wanting to give him my full attention.

"What do you mean? I think you're so much more." I reached for his chin, to make him face me.

"You do?" He says, still in a saddened tone.

"Rei- Spencer," I corrected myself, "You are unlike any man I have ever met. You are the most caring, devoted, passionate, loyal, goofy, intelligent, wonderful mess of a man I have ever had the privilege of meeting. You are the first person I want to talk to after a tough case, and the last person I always talk to before bed. Meeting you has made me want to be a better person, it's made me a better friend. You've shown me a type of love I never thought I would see again."

"So you don't just stay for the sex?" He asked quietly, like he was afraid of the answer.

"Spencer, honey, if we quit having sex right now, you still won't be able to get rid of me. Sure, the sex is great, don't get me wrong, love that, you are truly gifted, but I don't need it. I just need you. Your company, these moments where we just talk and hang out, or when we go to nerdy conventions together and have the time of our lives. I need your rambling about a random topic you know everything about because I just enjoy being in your presence. And listening to you talk. Your voice is so calming. You can be telling me about the terrible and gruesome ways an unsub dismembered, disembowled, and worse to a victim and I will hang on your every word. Even in complete silence, I just feel your comforting aura. And I don't want that to go away. If you don't want me to go, that is. It was never about the Sex, Spencer, it was always about you."

Before I could continue, he pulled me into a tight embrace and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

We sat in silence for a while. I don't think Spencer was anticipating a big long confession from me today. However, I was careful with my words. I never exactly said 'I love you.' But God, did I want to. I do love this man. In the way that makes me want to grow old with him and listen to the way he would rattle facts off to our children.

"Yknow, I learned something rather interesting on this case." He finally spoke up, while rubbing circles into my pinky finger with his thumb.

"Oh, you can still learn things? What did you learn, Spencer?"

I felt him smile into my head at me using his first name.

"Our Unsub was choosing victims by his belief in the Japenese Red String theory."

"And because I didn't study Japanese myths, I'm gonna need you to explain that one to me, Doctor."

"So, pinkies are a big thing in it." He began to explain excitedly.

He held his arm out to meet mine. Both our right hands, extended out so we could both see our hands in front of us.

"The theory states that everybody is attached to somebody with whom they will tell an important story, or make history with."

"And I take it that they are attached with a red string, to their other person's pinky?"

"Yes. And what's even more tragically beautiful is that the connection never breaks. Even in death, the passing of the loved one becomes the story itself. Throughout any tangle, the string remains strong. They are destined to have that connection."

"That's interesting, but how did our unsub use that theory to pick his vics?"

"He was perverting the story. To him, he believed the stories he was destined to tell revolved around brutally torturing and ultimately murdering women he believed he was bound to."

"Oh, wow. Hey, does it ever get exhausting to constantly deep dive into somebody's psychology? At least with my job, everything is a fact. Splatter patterns, ballistics, autopsy results, everything I do is set in stone. I rarely, if ever, have to think about the how, the why, and the what's is going on in his head. It seems exhausting."

"It is exhausting, so it's nice to have somebody to talk to after a long one." He sighed, pulling me closer to his chest.

Eventually we made our way out of the bath, and dressed into our pyjamas for the night. Spencer put on some documentary in the background as we settled into the bed for sleep. I pulled out a book I was working through and began reading where I left off.

"Hey, let me read to you?" He looked at me with the biggest puppydog eyes I have ever seen.

I nodded in agreement and handed the book to him. He grabbed his reading glasses off his nightstand, cleared his throat, and began reciting the words from the pages.

I couldn't help but feel my eyes go heavy, finding a deep comfort and safety in where I was right in this moment, and who was in this moment with me.

I think Spencer felt me leaning further and further into his shoulder, dancing on the verge of sleep, so he did finish out the chapter and placed the book and his glasses on the nightstand.

He pulled the blankets up to our chests, and began to relax himself. His arms around their way around mu waist and he pulled me closer to him, even throwing his leg over my own.

"For the record, you are the person I am bound to. You are my destiny. You are the light in my darkness. You are the love of my life." He whispered, while placing a gentle kiss on my head.

"Love you too Spence.." I began, and immediately fell victim to slumber.

"Dr. (L/n)? Are you okay?"

His question brought me back to reality. And that reality is that I am going to start daydreaming about Dr. Spencer Reid right now.

"OH? Yes, thank you Dr. Reid. I'm fine. Just out in my own little world." I laughed off my need for him.

"Well, I have to start making my way out to Virginia State, so I'll see you around." The final part of his sentence, sounding more like a question. Like he was asking if he would see me later.

"I'm sure you'll see me around. I have some major nesting to do in this office. Have fun shaping future minds!" I called out the last part as he made his way out of my office. He did turn back, just before he had fully left my line of sight, giving me a small smirk.

The rest of the day went on fairly slowly. Alot of organizing my space to my liking. Penelope would swing by every so often with treats and trinkets. Before I even knew it, it was after hours in the building. After hours on a Friday night. Needless to say, everybody was eager to get home.

However, I was so caught up with decorating all day, I didn't get a chance to review case files for my team. I had planned to do this task over the weekend, but I noticed the usual hefty stack of cases, were actually only three cases. So I decided to just look them over here, rather than have them to ruin my weekend.

Penelope offered to stay behind as well, to, in her own words, be my sparkly ball of joy, while I looked at the information. I love that woman, but I knew she would distract me, and I would be stuck here even longer, so I sent her home.

I was so enthralled in my cases that I didn't really pay too much attention to the lights of the BullPen turn on. I figured it was an agent, running back into the office to grab something they forgot to get when they left for the day. I ignored it, and continued to read. That is, until a jiggling of my dornob caught my attention.

My eyes flickered down to my gun, laying holstered, on my desk. Carefully, I removed the gun from the holster, and began to stand. Afterall, nobody should be trying to get into my office. In fact, nobody else should be here.

I cautiously made my way to my door. There was no peephole, but I did have windows to either side of the door. Earlier in the day, I closed my blinds because the heavy foot traffic of the BullPen kept pulling me away from my tasks. Just as I was about to peak through the closed blinds, my phone began ringing in my back pocket.

"Shit." I cursed aloud, in a hushed voice, as my free hand flew to my phone to silence the noise.

"(Y/n), open the door, it's me."

I immediately relaxed and sighed in relief.

I unlocked the door, and welcomed the very dapper looking Doctor standing in front of me into my office.

"Spence, you gotta warn a girl. I had my gun drawn, definitely could've taken you out." I breathed out, now making my way back to my desk to reholster my gun.

"I did warn you. I texted you four different times. I even showed up to your apartment, and when I didn't find you there, I concluded you were still here. So now here I am." He gave me one of his infamous goofy smiles.

"Well, excellent deduction skills, Doctor, " I sat in my chair, pulling out my phone to read the texts Spencer sent me.

He sat in the chair, across my desk as I read the texts.

2:30 p.m

'How is the office decorating going?'

3:42 p.m

'I take it that it is going well. Would you please call me when you get a chance. I miss your voice.'

5:13 p.m

'I am currently at your apartment, I am cooking (your favourite meal). I assume you'll be a bit late home, so I'll finish up when you call me.'

6:48 p.m

'I'm not one for impatience, but I have not spoken to you since this morning, so I am going to the office, and (respectfully) dragging you out of there if I have to. X'

"First of all, I missed you too Spence. And I'm sorry for not responding. I got so tied up with decorating and reorganizing, that I lost track of time. Then I realized I had a few cases to review, which I was going to go this weekend, but there were only three, so I wanted to knock those out before I left for the weekend."

"Do you need any help?" He said, reaching for a file.

"No, honey, I'm fine, really. I just need maybe 15 more minutes, and we can head out, okay?" I gently placed my left hand on his to stop him from grabbing a casefile.

He looked at my hand on his, our engagement ring sat on my left ring finger, and I could tell he was confused.

"I hope you don't mind. I really like wearing it, and nobody was here, so I slipped it on." I gestured to the ring.

He was wildly smiling at my hand and ran hid thumb over my left ring finger knuckle.

'I love it. I wore mine today when I was lecturing. Makes it feel like you're right there with me." He grinned ear to ear.

I smiled, pulling my hand back, and picking up the file I was reading a few minutes prior.

I heard a shutter of a camera go off, which made me perk my head back towards the man across from me.

"Sorry. I couldn't help it, you look very good right now." He gushed as he looked at the photo on his phone.

"Spence," I began.

"You're sitting there, in your chair," He stood up from his chair, and began walking behind my desk, "behind your desk," He was standing behind me now, he leaned down to my ear, "in your CSI Unit Chief office, wearing your engagement ring. It's all very attractive. Doctor. (L/n)." He placed a kiss further and further down my neck as he spoke.

He stopped at my shoulder. Placing a gentle kiss on the clothed area.

"Spencer, I- we need to st-" He cut me off by slowly pulling my blouse down my shoulder to expose the skin. I gasped.

He quickly turned my chair around to have me facing him now. A suggestive look in his eyes hinted at his intentions right at the moment. He held his hand out, which I gladly accepted. He led me to stand, which I obeyed. After I stood, he pushed my chair out from my desk, knocking it into a bookshelf in the process, causing some books to topple to the ground.

"Hey! I worked hard on that organi-" I began to stay, but was interrupted by Spencer pushing me to the desk and slamming his lips into mine.

I muffled a moan in shock, but immediately began kissing him back. His hands wondered down to my hips, and he squeezed them like they were his life line. After a few minutes of a rather intense makeout, he broke the kiss, followed by a long inhale.

"Spencer, we really need to stop. Anybody can walk in. And I still haven't found a way to tell the director we're engaged. This would be a bad way for them to find out." I heavily breathed out.

"(Y/n), it is 7:20 on a Friday night. I think it's safe to say nobody will be barging in. And I can't get the idea of taking you right here, right now, out of my head. So please, stop worrying and enjoy the moment." He neatly gathered my case files and set them on the chair, completely clearing my desk of anything important.

He looked down at me with those damn alluring eyes. The kind that I have never been able to say no to. The kind that said he was ready to give me the world, whatever consequences may follow.

I nodded, eagerly. Throwing all resolve out the metaphorical window because now, seeing my lovely fiancee this lust driven towards me in our workplace was also driving me crazy with desire.

He didn't hesitate. He roughly connected our lips together again, now trailing his hands down my body.

He bent down slightly to grab under my thighs to help usher me to the top of my desk. I hopped up to be sitting on the desk.

He smiled into our kiss, but moved his lips down to my cheek, then to my jaw, then down my neck, peppering several kisses, all with varying intensities.

I felt his hands travel back up to my blouse. Then to the buttons, slowly undoing them as his assault on my neck never haulted. It felt so overwhelmingly amazing. And this was just the beginning.

There are so many different ways we could break in this office. Too many for just one night. This would more than likely be happening again. And again. And again.

[another-lost-mc]

The Wild Side was so adorable and my heart wouldn’t be able to take it if you wrote something for the other characters (and Azra!) Maybe their animals from the Magical Eggs event would work, but I’d love to see your take, too.

a/n: I’m using the dateables’ onesies for their animal inspiration. I wouldn’t put it past solomon to jinx them somehow during a sleepover.

the wild side: slumber party edition | the dateables + azra

1k words | sfw | more silly fluff + humor

cw: relationships can be romantic or platonic in nature (your choice) except for luke, he is our baby brother and must be protected at all costs.

Lucifer arrives at the Demon Lord's Castle with little fanfare. You were supposed to be having a slumber party with Diavolo and the residents of Purgatory Hall, and he incorrectly assumed there was no possible way things could go wrong. He started receiving a series of alarming messages from staff at the castle that something strange was going on. He hears a disturbance as soon as he lets himself inside the main entrance hall. A loud ruckus coming from the ballroom, typically used to host the young prince's lavish parties, draws his attention. He opens the door and is completely stunned, shocked into silence by the chaos he finds within...

The Dragon (Diavolo)

It's a minor miracle that he's not a full-sized dragon. He's a bit smaller than Cerberus is and the ballroom is spacious—he has plenty of room to stretch his wings.

Judging by the scorch marks across the ballroom's marble flooring, he hasn't figured out how to control his flames yet.

(As soon as Lucifer walked into view, Diavolo snorted happily through his nose. He shot flames across the room and another set of curtains is currently on fire.)

Diavolo's still aware of his size and potential danger. He does his best to keep away from you and Luke who are at the greatest risk of being stepped on.

His scales are very warm to the touch. Barbatos can't land on him without injuring himself, so he squawks angrily at his young master from a safe distance.

He was excited to host this little sleepover for everyone to watch some new movies together, but he thinks this is even better!

The Owl (Barbatos)

He's very anxious, but you can tell he looks at you differently vs. the way he looks at Diavolo Solomon everyone else...

He doesn't believe in regicide, but Diavolo is going to be punished severely after this. And Solomon, too—this is his fault!

(Being a dragon is no excuse for his master to engage in such reckless destruction. He's going to burn down the whole castle at this rate!)

The Little Ds are enjoying this far too much and slacking off on their duties while they watch the madness unfold. The least they could do is help put out these wretched fires...

Barbatos doesn't seem to be nearly as intimidating in this smaller form. Diavolo rolls his eyes when he hoots at him, and the Little Ds keep tugging on his tail feathers teasingly and dashing away.

(If they think he's going to forget this, they're sorely mistaken.)

He gives up on trying to reign in the mayhem and tries to stick close to you instead. You're so small and fragile in your little sheep form, he worries the others might hurt you by accident. He pecks at them to remind them to be gentle.

When everything gets too overwhelming, he flies up and rests on one of the sconces on the wall or the chandelier.

(He nearly falls to the floor when the magic spell finally fades away mid-flight, and that makes him even angrier.)

The Panther (Simeon)

His main concern is keeping an eye on you and Luke. It's amusing to watch the others though; he's content to stick to the edges of the room and observe the chaos.

This is actually great inspiration for a new novel! Or maybe he should try writing a children's book. You would make a cute main character!

He carries Luke somewhere safe when he inevitably falls asleep from all the excitement.

(Solomon and Azra get so distracted picking fights with each other that Simeon picks you up by your collar and carries you to where Luke is sleeping. He curls around your little sleep pile protectively until the spell wears off.)

The Red Panda (Luke)

He's too small to get into too much trouble, but he has a surprising amount of fun—probably the most fun out of everyone, except for Diavolo.

He's not used to having a tail and he trips on it a few times by accident when he runs too fast. He swears that Simeon chuckles in a weird, cat-like way when he falls on his face with a growl.

He follows you around the ballroom, but the other animals are so much scarier bigger than he's too nervous to get close to them.

There are still trays of desserts on the table from dinnertime, and he helps himself to some sweets.

(The spell and abundance of sugar knocks him out cold in less than an hour.)

The Wolf (Solomon)

He didn't mean for this to happen, but he's going to enjoy it while it lasts.

He saunters around, swishing his fluffy white tail and showing off his stunning wolf form for you to admire. For some reason, you don't seem that impressed.

You squirm and glare at him when he tries to kiss lick your face, too.

He lays down and rolls over, hoping that you'll curl up with him because his fur is so warm and perfect to snuggle in.

Maybe you're just shy? The hellhound won't leave you alone but Solomon's not sure he can take him on in a fight...

(Really, can't he enjoy your company for once without one of the demons butting their nose where it doesn't belong?)

The Hellhound (Azra)

You said this was supposed to be a fun little sleepover. He even put on that stupid onesie you bought him because you're cute when you pout you said it would be more fun this way. This was supposed to be a chance for him to get to know your friends—and now he's stuck as a dog!

You weren't immune to the mysterious magic either, and you and the young angel are the tiniest animals here. He's extra-vigilant about trying to keep the others away from you; he's scared they're going to hurt you by accident.

(He's never seen this side of Diavolo before, and he hates to admit how much fun it is watching the young prince set half the ballroom on fire while he shoots fireballs at random objects for target practice.)

He's very agitated when Solomon tries to approach you. That damn wolf keeps stalking you around the room with a hungry glint in his eye.

You don't seem happy with either of them when they start growling and snapping at each other and he's already thinking about how to make this up to you later.

(Maybe when this is over, he can convince you to go back home with him.)

read more: the demon brothers version | obey me masterlist

[kissofthemis]

Hello, may I request headcanons for the NXX boys when they hear reader (who isn't mc) that usually only addresses them by their last name calls them by their first name for the first time, while giving a heartfelt compliment with the softest and sweetest expression?

Bonus if they're normally shy yet silly in general. Another bonus is if they did it without realizing it and immediately fluster when they realise what they did, and puff their cheeks when in denial when called out upon.

Thank you!

"Thank you so much! Luke, you're a lifesaver!"

A wave of relief washed over you as Luke repaired the final piece on your drawer. You still weren't sure how you'd ripped the cabinets clean off their hinges, but all that mattered was that your friend Mr. Pearce, antique repairer extraordinaire, had come to your rescue.

Mr. Pearce.

Luke Pearce.

You hadn't realized how casually his name had slipped out of your mouth until it was too late. "I... Um... Mr. Pearce! Thank you!"

Humbly you bowed your head. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you could only imagine how much you resembled a boiling lobster right about now. Cautiously, you tilted your chin up just enough to get a peek at the brunet's face, only to find...

That he looked just as flustered as you.

His gaze darted to the floor. "L-Luke..." He stumbled over his own name, and you could have sworn you saw him bite his tongue in his own embarrassed frustration. "Luke is fine. Great, actually." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Because... we're friends, aren't we?"

His eyes flickered back to you, aglow with the warmth of a fireplace but the intensity of a bonfire.

"At least, I've been trying to put down clues that show you I consider you a dear friend."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"You tend to these all by yourself? I can tell how much love you pour into your garden, Vyn!"

Awestruck by the vast array of flora and foliage before you, the words fluttered from your lips before you had a chance to truly think about them.

Of course, you meant what you said! When Dr. Richter had invited you to see a garden, you were excited at the prospect of going to fancy botanical gardens. When he mentioned it was his own personal garden, a healthy dose of curiosity sprouted alongside your eagerness to see his home. Now, upon seeing how beautiful his "humble" garden was, you were impressed and delighted.

But as a moment passed without any response from the gardener himself, you began to worry that you'd said something inappropriate. "Don't tell me, is Dr. Richter bad with prai--"

You clapped your hands over your mouth and began bowing rapidly, bobbing up and down and up and down.

"Dr. Vyn! I mean, Dr. Richter! I'm so sorry! That was super informal and super rude of me! Oh, Dr. Richter, I can't apologize enough!"

A gentle hand came to rest upon the top of your head, stopping you in your tracks.

"Now, while I'm qualified to treat them, I'd appreciate if you didn't give yourself a concussion from whipping your head up and down so many times." He chuckled softly as you rose to a full standing position again, then gave you a gentle pat.

"Raised them with love, you say?" he murmured. "I don't know if I'd put it that way. I'm simply following standard guidance and instructions for each and every species of flower." He pursed his lips for a second, then continued. "But if tending to flowers is anything like tending to people in need of tender love and care..." He turned to look at you, and his golden eyes glinted in the sunlight.

"Then I'm sure you have quite the green thumb yourself."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"This is the best grilling I've ever tasted in my life, Artem!"

You had barely spared a second to sing the attorney's praises before digging back into your meal.

When you'd fallen ill with the latest seasonal flu, you had messaged him as a courtesy to let him know you wouldn't be able to meet him this weekend as planned. You certainly hadn't expected the star of Themis Law Firm to offer to bring you some food. You were less prepared when he said he was going to cook it himself, asking for your favorite foods and flavors.

Least of all did you expect his food to be so delicious!

'Never judge a book by its cover,' you thought as you devoured another spoonful. 'I just didn't expect Mr. Wing of all people to have the time to learn to cook so well!'

You peeked up at him, concerned that he hadn't responded yet. He probably wasn't the type who received compliments often; he seemed like the type who intimidated others. Respected, but never appreciated in this way.

"Your cheeks are really red. Are you catching a fever from me?"

Wildfire had spread across his face, from the tips of his ears to the tip of his nose. If he got sick because he was taking care of you, you'd never forgive yourself!

"You... perhaps need more rest," is all that he said in response. "But..." He smiled gently at you.

"If a flu is what it takes for you to loosen up around me, I can't truthfully say that I'm upset about it."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"You designed this? Marius, you're a creative genius!"

Your jaw dropped as you absorbed the details in the painting before you. The effect was almost reminiscent of a stained glass window, with the way the colors and strokes created a mosaic image. You could easily see this hanging up in a museum or even a church.

But like a dog who received one treat and was desperate for more, the painter turned to you with big, pleading eyes and whimpered, "I couldn't hear that. Could you repeat it, please? For me?"

He wasn't usually this pathetic. "I said you're a creative genius!" You folded your arms over your chest. "Don't make me take back the genius part."

"No, no~ Before that."

Before that? What exactly had you said that brought this CEO to wag his tail so desperately?

Realization struck you like lightning and you spun away from him instantly. "Mr. von Hagen, it's very unprofessional to tease me like this!"

You could almost feel the mood shift as Marius deflated behind you. "Aww, you were being so friendly a minute ago," he whined. "Even calling me Marius~ Marmar~ Mariri~"

"I didn't use any stupid nicknames!" you protested, whirling to face him with flustered tears stinging your eyes. "You're such a pain in the neck, Marius!"

He perked up immediately. "Oh! There it is again! We are close, aren't we?" He leaned forward, the corners of his mouth turned up into a cheeky grin as he batted his eyelashes at you.

With a huff, you shifted your attention back to the painting. "On second thought, I think this is too abstract for the exhibition. I guess Pax can't host it after all."

"Whaaaat? Now that's just too cold!"

[dotster001]

Blessed

Summary: Diavolo x gn!reader. You bring the angels with you to break the news of your upcoming marriage to your super religious parents.

CW: technically parents are religious, but I don't dig too deeply into it. Just the part where they wouldn't like you marrying the prince of hell.

A/N: This came into being because I was thinking about how I'd break the news to my parents if I was marrying Dia. I realized I'd probably have to lie my ass off.

You had calmly explained to Dia that it would be far easier to just… pretend that you weren't together. Your family was already on edge from the random bursts of time you disappeared. But the last thing your super religious parents would want to hear was that part of the reason was that you were the future king of hell’s fiance.

But no. Dia wanted to do the human tradition of “meeting the parents.” And whatever Dia wanted, Dia got, through whining, charm, and sheer stubbornness. What for him was a quirky little human tradition, for you was an incredibly stressful event.

To be fair to your parents, if the roles were reversed, and your child disappeared for months at a time and came back with a fiance, you'd be concerned. So you put some “protections” in place. You hoped it wouldn't come to it, but Simeon and Luke were going to be there. Just in case.

It wasn't going well. You, Diavolo, Simeon, and Luke, all sat awkwardly on the sofa while your parents gave you a stern glare. 

“Getting married? Where did you two meet?”

You'd told Dia what he could and couldn't say. You knew he couldn't lie, so you told him to keep his mouth shut. If his lineage came up…oh God. You didn't want to think about it.

“Is he the reason you keep disappearing?”

“Y/N, if you're in trouble,” one of them gently grabbed your hands, staring in your eyes, “you can tell us. We'll get you out of it.”

“And who's the kid?”

“I'm Luke! I'm a friend of Y/N’s!” He said happily, excited to be noticed.

“Well, it's all rather suspect,” one of them said, leveling another glare at Dia, who was simply smiling happily. “I can't support this marriage.”

“I assure you, I will take excellent care of Y/N,” he said happily.

“Again, rather suspect.”

“I have quite a bit of money. Y/N will want for nothing for the rest of their life!”

“And yet their family doesn't seem to be invited to the wedding.”

“Simeon,” you whined to the angel, who sighed and nodded to Luke.

“Please, we know you have reason to be alarmed. But we have been given a message,” Simeon said, Luke nodding along. The two of them stood up, and the room was filled with a blinding light. What your eyes could see and understand, were what you'd been told biblical angels might look like. Yet even that description was off. You just couldn't comprehend the forms in front of you.

“Be not afraid,” Luke ‘spoke’, though more accurately, he sang in a chorus of angelic tones.

“Our Father has sent us with a message. This union has been arranged and blessed by the heavenly Father himself,” Simeon spoke.

Not exactly false. When word had got out that you, an all powerful, dangerous, product of three realms, were dating the Lord of Hell, they'd all but demanded marriage. Perhaps it was a diplomatic move, maybe it was a way to keep you in check, but the Celestial Realm had pushed far harder than the demon lords who'd opposed a marriage.

This was your last ditch effort. If literal angels couldn't convince your parents, Dia had been instructed to get all of you out of there, then order Barbatos to take you all slightly back in time before you had told your parents.

“We promise to guard and guide your child, as our Father has instructed us to care for them,” Luke said.

If your parents dug into this, asking the whys and hows, you'd be fucked. But the awestruck look on their faces told you they were buying it. They seemed to be crying with joy. 

Simeon smiled warmly, then him and Luke returned to their regular forms, meaning you could actually look at them. Luke seemed smug, and Simeon seemed relieved.

Your parents tune seemed to have changed completely, now saying only good things about the marriage, eagerly asking if there was any way they could be a part of it, asking Dia all about himself, certain he had to be a good person to have been literally chosen by God for their child.

You sighed in relief as the angels took most of the questions. Dia smiled brightly next to you.

“That went so well! Perhaps I can show them my true form!” You dug your nails into his hand as you and the angels now lied your asses off about what that meant. All while Dia smugly laughed.

....

Tag list- @eccedentesiast-sapphic @your-next-daydream

[hockybish]

MIA

l hughes sister au l lola hughes l masterlist

"Lola hasn't shown up yet has she?" Maisie asked. She was missing her future sister-in that she had gotten to know well as she was now of the only influential females in Luke's life that actually liked her.

"Her flight should be landing in a couple of hours. Once we get unloaded I'll go pick her up." Luke set a timer, to make sure he would have enough time to get there on time. "Wanna come with?"

Luke and Maisie got there with plenty of time to spare, so they took the time to just talk since they were still working things out in their own relationship.

"Shouldn't she be out by now? It's been a couple of hours."

"Yeah. She should be" Luke looked around from the spot where they were sitting. It was a high traffic day and there were quite a few people milling about.

Luke stood up to get a better look. He scanned though the crowd, only to come up empty. "Watch for her, I'm going to stand in line at the desk over there, maybe they know something?"

He stood there for what seemed like for forever. In the meantime, Luke had a chance to shoot a message to Jack and called Mason.

“No I haven’t really seen her in a week” Mason admitted to the frustrated Luke.

“Shit” Luke mumbled. The desk attendant was beckoning him forward it was his turn. “Look I gotta go. Can you look around? Maybe Z knows. Call me if you find anything”

“Likewise” mason was worried about the girl he was in love with.

Luke pocketed his phone, stepping up to talk to the lady. He grabbed the paper that had Lola’s flight itinerary on it and showed it to her.

“Can you tell me anything about this flight my sister’s on? I thought it landed a while ago but I haven’t been able to find her and she’s not answering her phone.”

The lady nodded and started typing and clicking away on her computer coming up with answer for the desperate brother.

“Well I can’t tell you whether she’s on the flight. But that plane did get in on time about an hour ago and everyone should be off by now. I’m sorry there’s not much more I can do. Maybe check baggage claim?

--

"Hey man, please tell me Lola is in Vancouver with you. And she's not missing again." Luke asked into the phone.

He raced back to the lake house, only to find Jack was the only one there. Luke dreaded calling his eldest brother, but he knew it was for the best if he did, just to check that box off.

"What do you mean, she hasn't shown up yet?!" Quinn was trying to keep his cool. He was the one to deal with their sister the last time she decided to run away.

He didn't have time for it this time.

"I don't know Q. I went to the airport to pick her up and she wasn't there. I thought maybe her flight got in early and she didn't want to wait for us, so she got a ride home. But she isn't here!"

"Fucking find her. And whatever you do, don't tell mom or dad, yet" Quinn grumbled hanging up on his brother.

He wasn't worried or at least he tried to convince himself of that. He had complete faith his brothers would find her. But just incase he started making a few phone calls of his own.

--

"Lola Clementine Hughes if you are here you better fucking come out right now! There are people worried sick about you." Trevor barged into the place where Leo had been staying.

"Guys I told you yesterday she isn't here anymore. She left." Leo jumped at the loud voice.

"She left? So she was here at some point in time?" Mason frowned. When they were there yesterday, the rookie failed to mention Lola had been there. "Do you have any idea where she went?"

"Shit. I wasn't supposed to say that." Leo looked at the ground not wanting to make direct eye contact with either of his teammates. He started picking at the skin on his thumb, his nerves starting to get the best of him.

"Carlsson tell us everything you know right now, and we'll help protect you from her brothers, who probably kill you if they knew she was at your place and you let her slide right through your fingers."

"Clem asked me not too."

"Dude. Her family is just worried about her. That's all."

He shouldn't have been so scared of her brothers or her extended family like that. but he was because that family included a lot of guys who were bigger than he was. And the thought of something happening to her brought out his stutter again.

"Uh. I ran into her in the hall before the flight to Vegas. She asked if she could stay at my place while we were gone. I told her sure. And she left a few days later. I honestly don't know where she is now. I swear!" Leo spilled the beans on what he knew.

After they interrogated the child a little more, Mason and Trevor were satisfied that he really didn't know anything more and was telling the truth.

“Where do we go now?” Mason climbed back to Trevor’s car.

“Alex” Trevor replied taking off.

"Lola what are you doing here?" Matty asked the girl who had just shown up at his door unexpectedly at three am.

He had gotten back from Boston early that morning. They had a game the next and he needed sleep if he was going to do well so they could stay alive.

"I need a place to stay for a bit. I promise you won't even know I'm here." Lola looked around the simple apartment, it could a little more furnishings, but at the same time seemed very Matty.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Michigan?" He cocked an eyebrow and pursed his lips.

Matty could tell she was running away again, he didn't care though. His home would always be open to Lola.

"I can't. Jack-" She wasn't going to get into it right now and Matt could tell and wasn't going to press the matter any further for now.

"You want to go to my game tonight, if you're not to sick of hockey. We can dress you up in Leafs' gear, no one will ever know you're there."

Lola shrugged, it could be fun

[msmoony7]

hey!! can you please do a fic with calum hood, maybe enemies to lovers and reader is the bands photographer or something like that (it’s okay if you don’t want to🫶🏼🫶🏼)

Love your work!!

note: hope u like it! I haven't written for 5sos yet AND i’ve never written enemies to lovers so i hope it’s good and enemy-y angsty enough. also pretend the first stop was LA and that the tour was six weeks idk how long it actually was this is just what i imagined for my little fanon fic LMAO. I kinda left this on a cliffhanger. Maybe part 2 soon??

calum hood x reader

word count: 1.84k

You wake up to the sun peeking through the cracks in your bedroom curtains. Although the weather on this day is perfect, your mood was anything but, and you wake up feeling sour. Today, you are presented with the difficult task of joining the band 5 Seconds of Summer as their tour photographer. You’ve been photographing artists for years now and it has truly become your passion. Whether it’s following an artist on your, or taking album art, you are living your dream with every picture you take.  

That’s not where the difficulty lies. You know that you’re capable of doing your job and doing it well. The difficulty lies within the band. The name of that difficulty being the band’s bassist, Calum Hood. By now, you have a long history with the band. They first invited you to join them on the Take My Hand tour last year. You quickly became good friends with Luke, Ashton, and Michael. But for some reason, Calum just could not stand to be near you. Many days and nights were spent bickering between the two of you. Arguments would come up, about your creative direction and other bullshit he brought up, leaving you no choice to fight back, creating a lasting vendetta between the pair of you. 

Of course, he made your job difficult as well. When photographing him onstage, he would mess with you and your work. Sometimes getting up in front of the camera and in your face, sometimes not letting you take any photos of him at all. And once offstage, he wouldn’t even look in your direction. Wouldn’t even address you. Despite this, your work speaks for itself and you received a message from Luke inviting you to join them again on this year's tour, The 5sos Show.  

It’s been weeks since you got the tour invitation, and months since you’ve last seen the band. All the time in the world couldn’t prepare you for six weeks on the road with Calum Hood. What he had against you, you may never know. What you do know is that as long as he presents this dislike towards you, you will be doing the same right back at him. 

Was putting yourself through all this stress worth it? You ponder for a moment when you wake up, but ultimately decide you made the right choice. You are set to meet up with the band and crew this evening before you set out on the road together, marking the start of the long six weeks ahead. You put on some music and start packing your suitcase. 

After a while, you’re happy with everything in your suitcase and zip it up. Living out of a suitcase was difficult, but you’ve had prior experience so you know the do’s and don'ts of packing. You pack your backpack, carry on, and your camera supplies and before you know it, the day is behind you and it’s time to converge with the band. You call an uber to take you to the address Luke gave you and you’re on your way. 

Traffic isn’t too bad, so you make it to the address quicker than you would have liked. The crew is already there, but the band is nowhere to be seen. You help yourself onto the bus and begin putting your things in your designated area. You feel the bus shift as someone steps on. Before you can turn around, you can already tell who is walking up behind you. 

“Well, what do we have here?” you hear a sarcastic voice say behind you. You turn around and lock eyes with the bassist. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a green 5sos sweatshirt. He looks adorable and cozy, and you hate him for being so gorgeous and so annoying all at the same time. 

“Not even the first day of the tour and we’re already fighting, are we?” you spit back at him. 

“Seems that way,” he replies before scurrying off to whatever hole he’s gonna bury himself in until he needs to be found again. 

The rest of the boys slowly scatter onto the bus, and your meetings with them go better than yours with Calum. Everyone picks out their bunks and once everyone is settled onto the bus, the driver begins driving to the first stop on the road and you allow yourself to fall asleep for the night. 

You wake up to the sound of fighting. It takes you a few seconds to shake off your grogginess before you hear two voices shouting back and forth at each other from the other end of the bus. 

“You can’t keep acting like this!” you can hear Luke yell. 

“Sure I can! I can't stand her being here and I’m not going to pretend I do.”

“Whatever, man. Do what you want, I give up. Just don’t come complaining when it comes to bite you in the ass.”

You can hear them shuffling around the bus as you stay hidden behind your curtain. Although your hatred for Calum was mutual, you couldn’t help but let a tear fall down your cheek as you lay in your bunk, thinking about everything you’ve had to endure from him in the past and will have to in the future on this tour. You are tired of feeling like this. Feeling beat down by him and his words, his actions. Now, you’re determined to get to the bottom of his hatred for you. You wipe away your tears, jump out of bed, and get ready for the day. 

Tonight is the first night of the tour at The Kia Forum in Los Angeles. You’re excited. After all, you do love your job. You decide that the best way to get through the tour is to ignore Calum and his antics. 

The day goes by quickly. The opening band is onstage and you’ve successfully avoided Calum the entire day. You grab all your camera equipment so you have it ready to go when the boys go onstage. 

Calum sneaks up behind you, bass in hand. “Where’ve you been, y/n? Haven’t seen you all day, it’s almost like you’re ignoring me. You wouldn’t do that though, would you?”

“For the love of god, fuck off. Get away from me.” You huff at him while grabbing your camera and walking towards the side stage. The lights go off and he shoots you a wink before walking onstage. You push all this out of your head and get in front of the stage and start taking photos of the boys. 

The night goes as well as you could have expected given your circumstances. You get some good photos of the boys. Calum was his usual self. This time around, he decided that whenever you got too close to him, he would turn around, making sure that you don’t get photos of his face or his instrument. Despite this, you do get some good photos of him. In all honesty, you think this is some of your best work. Calum looks really good. Even if you can’t see his face.

The boys all run offstage after the encore, high off of the energy from the gig. You shoot them a congratulations and you can see Calum heading in the opposite direction of you. Typical, you think. 

The next stop of the tour wasn’t for another two days, so the boys are having a party to celebrate the tour kicking off. You follow Luke, Ashton, and Michael and see that the party is already in motion. Calum’s already at the bar grabbing a drink and your body moves before you can think and all of the sudden, you’re sitting next to him. 

“What do you want,” he mutters sharply, not even looking up from his drink.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Vodka cran,” he says to the bartender and nods at you. “I swear, whenever you get within ten feet of me I can feel my blood pressure rising,” he says in defeat as he gets up from his seat.

“Where’re you going? I thought we were finally getting along.”

“Back to the bus before I say something I’ll regret.”

And with that, he disappears out the door, leaving you confused as the bartender hands you your drink. 

“I don’t know what his issue is,” you confess to Luke once you find him later that night. An hour or two has passed since you last saw Calum and you’re feeling tipsy from the alcohol. 

“I wish I could tell you, y/n. I really wish I could. But we have no idea why he’s like this. We all love you and we love your work, I don’t know why he has it out for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. If I’m honest, I’m getting to my breaking point. I don’t think I can handle it anymore.”

“Want us to talk to him?” Luke says with concern written on his face. You can tell him and the other boys genuinely do care about you. It makes you feel good knowing that you have people to fall back on in this drama. 

“Thanks, but I think I’m actually gonna go speak to him now. I’m just tired of it and I need answers now.”

“Well, good luck. Let us know how it goes.”

You say bye to everyone at the party and you leave to find Calum and get some long awaited answers for yourself. The walk to the bus is not far and as you’re approaching, you see Calum sitting on a bench outside, smoking a cigarette and looking up at the sky. He hears your footsteps on the ground and groans when he realizes it’s you. 

“Following me now, are you?” 

“Oh shut up, will you?” you say as you steal the cigarette from his hand, taking a drag before handing it back to him. “You’re an ass, you do know that, right?”

“What do you think, y/n.”

“I wanna know why.”

“Why what?”

“What do you think, Calum? You’ve never liked me. I’ve done nothing wrong. I literally can’t do this anymore, I don’t know what to do!”

He sits and thinks for a minute, leaving the two of you in silence. You stare at him as he stares at the ground ahead of him, waiting for a response. A minute goes by, then two. No response. 

“Are you gonna answer me?” you yell. Still, no response. “Whatever, I’m done. Bye.” You say as you get up. You start walking in the direction of the tour bus when you feel him grab your arm and turn you around. Before you realize what’s going on, his lips crash into yours. At first, you don’t know what to do and you stand there frozen. He pulls away and just stares at you, and you stare right back. 

“That an answer enough for you?” he says to you. 

“Oh will you just shut up?” you say as you cusp his cheeks, pulling him towards you once more.