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bratbarzal · 24 days ago

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Let It Happen (LH43) 1/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

If you're ready, all I mean is we could go, I've never craved someone's attention as much as yours.

General Warnings: an almost unbearable amount of sarcasm and snark, even more idiotic shenanigans, many affectionate empty threats of murder/violence, fluff, mentions of golf 🤢, cursing and I'm pretty sure that's it for this half

A/N: in line with the general consensus lmao this has been split, part two will be posted as soon as it's finished (lol) but it's best read as one whole fic, it isn't a multi-part situation really!! it was originally supposed to be my submission for the eras tour fic challenge (hence the graphic I'm too attached to to change) but took a different direction to the song I was given, and I missed the deadline, and I pretty much listened to the secret of us exclusively while writing this whole thing. also dropping an overwhelmingly summery fic in december might actually be my brand. keep your eyes peeled for a christmas fic in july.

very special shoutout to shea @sleepretreat I made a random comment one day that luke gives seth cohen energy, and she fanned that flame like a full time job. ily shea!! I hope this lives up to any expectations and I owe a lot to your instigating!!

AS ALWAYS!!! never proofread!! I'll probably get around to it when the thought of a spelling mistake keeps me awake at night. and also!! please let me know what you think I am like a teeny tiny little plant that can only thrive under the constant shower of validation and you don't want me to wither and die do you? (I’m kidding) (I’m not)

You kind of, sort of, think you might hate summer.

You haven’t always felt this way, though. Growing up, it had always been your favourite time of the year.

No school? Check.

Going on vacation, sometimes multiple, all expenses covered by your parents? Double check.

Getting to do all the cool things you don’t have time for in the school year with all your friends? Concerts, festivals, beach days, bonfires on the evenings. Check, check and check again.

But 4 years ago, your whole world as you knew it was torn apart, and summers have never been the same, since.

A season that was once filled with light and companionship, never ending plans and joviality, became darker - isolated, getting yourself out of the house even if everyone else was busy, driving just to drive and making the best of your own company.

School ended up becoming your escape, especially since you had started college - your studies and the chaos of Greek life distracting you from the calamitous state of your home life, making new friends that became like family and sticking to them like glue, where possible, clingy and possessive to the point of ruin, almost - and so the lack of it in the summers now actually sends you into some sort of warped spiral.

It’s manageable in the winter and spring, the breaks no longer than a few weeks at a time, but going home for summer is somewhat of a nightmare.

It’s hard to go back, hard to ignore the mess your mind has become when it’s just you and your mother - or, you, your mother and whatever bottle of pinot she’s 3 glasses deep into at any given time of the day - and you’re sat in a house that’s a cold reminder of the warmth that once filled it.

But when Ellie - your best friend since moving to college, the girl who took the sister part of sorority sister to the next level at all possible opportunities over the years - found out you’d put your name down to be the caretaker for your sorority house instead of going home, she had put her foot down on your summertime sadness session.

Which is how you end up moving into her family home - spending the first few weeks integrating yourself into their routine while trying to grip desperately onto some form of your own - trying not to get too used to the feeling of such a big family when you know it won’t be forever.

You braid her little sister’s hair everyday, kick a soccer ball around with her little brother when he needs someone to stand in goal, wash the dishes with her mom, talk sports with her dad, and before long, you blend like a chameleon into their dynamic.

You pick up a summer job at the country club to cling back onto your independence. Your commute provides the solitude and quiet you‘ve grown accustomed to in the years before, a bus journey through town with headphones on, watching the scenery and admiring the greenery until you get to work, donning your navy blue polo and tucking your little notepad into your hip apron as you serve tables at the clubhouse restaurant and bar.

It’s a much needed escape from Ellie, if you’re honest.

You love that girl with all your heart, appreciate her housing you more than you’ll ever be able to say, but if you have to hear her sit and mope about how hopelessly in love she is with Jack Hughes for even a second longer, you’re going to vomit. Or scream. Or both.

Jack and Ellie grew up together - their families close, Ellie’s dad best friends with Jack’s uncle, or something - and she’s been into him since he had teeth missing - a point she loves to hammer home when it comes to you always listing that as one of his (many, if it’s up to you) cons. Considering his job, and the fact he already lost one, not too long ago, a toothless boyfriend seems like a massive ick, if you’re honest.

But Ellie is beyond reason when it comes to him. She worships the ground he walks on - talks about him non-stop, messages him every day, regales you with stories you, awfully, but realistically, couldn’t care less about - and it’s the only real problem about living with her.

Even beyond the summer, you two had shared a room your first two years in college, still live in the same house - and it’s a year round problem.

But being unable to escape, having your days tied to close to hers, and knowing that it’s bound to be worse with proximity, Jack back in Michigan for the summer, himself, she’s starting to drive you up the wall.

It wouldn’t bother you if you had never met Jack, but the two of you don’t exactly get along. He’s rude, and self-absorbed, and had looked down on you the first time he ever laid eyes on you, and you really shouldn’t let it get to you, but you do - the thought that your best friend is in love with an asshole, and that she won’t let you hear the end of it.

Won’t stop whining about how he’ll never feel the same, or that she can’t handle another summer of biting her tongue, of being around him, feeling the way she does, and not being able to do anything about it.

She deserves better.

Ellie has a heart of gold, and she deserves someone who handles it with care. If Jack Hughes doesn’t like her back, that’s his loss - but you’re kind of getting sick of telling her that.

Getting through a whole summer of it is going to be hard, you think, but it’s better than the alternative. Better than being entirely alone. So you put on a brave face, use work as your escape in the same way you usually do with school, and avoid blowing your top for as long as you can, suffering through the late nights and heart to hearts where Jack is the sole topic of discussion, and bask in the good stuff.

In the chaos of her siblings, in the closeness of her family, and the way they’ve welcomed you with open arms.

This summer could be okay, you’ve just got to give it a chance.

Luke Hughes loves summer.

He loves being back home in Michigan, spending his days out on the lake, or making the trip out to parade around Ann Arbor, catching up with all his college buddies, making the rounds at all the UMich sporting events he now gets a VIP pass to thanks to his last name.

The routine of it all is familiar, and warming, and it restores a sense of normality that playing in the NHL for the past year has so brutally ripped from him, already.

He had enjoyed starting his summer overseas - making the team for the world championships and competing beyond the abysmal end to his rookie season - had enjoyed the time away from his brothers, if he’s honest. Quinn and the Canucks making it a few rounds into the playoffs, and Jack back home recovering from getting surgery on his shoulder - and it’s the latter he needed the reprieve from.

He does love living with his brother.

Jack looks after him in ways he’ll never really be able to make it up to him for. He always has, Quinn has too, but ever since Luke got drafted to the Devils, Jack has helped him adjust to the chaos of his career without much fuss or hardship.

And he really is grateful for that.

But, God, can he be annoying.

Especially when it comes to his infatuation with his best friend, Ellie.

Jack and Ellie have always been close - despite the fact she’s Luke’s age - and grew up thick as thieves, spending summers together, especially when the family moved to Michigan, and Ellie’s family were just on the other side of town.

He’s always been obsessed with her, even if it hasn’t always been love - but these last few years have been different. Like a switch flipped in his head when Jack saw what Ellie was like when he came to visit Luke in his freshman year of college.

A version of Ellie that was no longer just his - no longer exclusive to their summer bubble, and lived in a world beyond lounging by the lake and hanging out with the Hughes family.

A version of Ellie who liked partying, liked schmoozing and charming everybody she came into contact with, liked being the centre of everyone else’s attention, not just Jack’s.

And it’s that version of Ellie that has driven Luke’s brother crazy, which has, in turn, started to drive Luke crazy. He talks about her non-stop, and it was those much needed weeks away in Czechia that almost had Luke forgetting just how stupid his brother has gotten about the whole thing.

Until he came home to Michigan, and Jack, in all the commotion with his shoulder, with ending his season early and starting his summer off alone, has worked himself into such a stupor about the whole thing that merely a week into his return, he has driven Luke up the wall.

He’s grumpy, all the time - which leads to him being snarky, all the time. He huffs and puffs around the house so much Luke is starting to think he might need an inhaler, and he really can’t take any more.

Not when he’s making such a show of his irritation, stomping around with heavy feet and slamming doors that don’t need to be shut in the first place.

“What crawled up your ass and died there?” Luke frowns as he follows Jack into the kitchen upon his return from therapy, holding out for the doors he swings open with a little too much vigour so that they don’t swing back into his brother’s slinged-shoulder. “I thought the physio is going alright?”

“It is,” Jack huffs, storming over to the fridge and yanking it open, the jars and bottles in the door clanking together in a way that makes Luke cringe. “I’m fine.”

“Tell that to all the hinges you’re testing the limits of.”

“Don’t start with me, Luke, I’m not in the mood.”

“You just said you’re fine.” Luke rolls his eyes as he starts to scroll through his group chat with his friends from college, trying to check who said they might be free today to get him out of this vicious circle.

“It’s nothing.”

“Clearly not.” It’s interactions like this that confirm to Luke just how annoying Jack has become - because what reason does he have to be so evasive? Luke is handing him the opportunity to air out his grievances on a silver platter, and he’s rather slam cupboards and create creases in his forehead from frowning 24/7.

“Fine, it’s Ellie.”

Luke wishes he never bothered asking, although he has been wondering why he’s been seeing way less of her already this summer. He had figured Ellie was away with family until he saw her at the gas station the other night - had watched from the car as Jack had what seemed like a heated conversation by the entrance.

“She’s refusing to hang out with me.”

“Has she said why?” Luke asks, although he doesn’t really care. He’s just asking to get it out of the way in the hopes that Jack talking about it might lighten the load, might make his own life a little easier.

It’s the bitter muttering of your name that captures Luke’s full attention, his neck audibly cracking at the speed in which his head shoots up, no longer caring what could possibly be going on with the boys in the group chat.

“She isn’t going back to whatever fiery hell pit it is that she comes from for the summer, and she’s staying with Ellie’s family, therefore Ellie isn’t staying with us.”

Luke hasn’t heard your name in a while. Not since he left college last year, not since he got caught up in the whirlwind life in the NHL, when a schoolboy crush on a girl he interacted with once in his entire college career became the least of his worries.

But one utterance of it has his spine straightening, just like it would have done just over a year ago.

You’re in Michigan. You’re at Ellie’s, on the other side of town. You’re barely two degrees of separation from him.

“Why can’t Ellie bring her here?” Luke asks, throat dry and voice breaking so subtly that he hopes Jack doesn’t notice. That could be fun. Would make up for the hell his brother has been putting him through since he got here.

Maybe a little glorious sunshine might finally get you to notice his existence. He wouldn’t mind third wheeling Jack and Ellie if you were there, too. It would give him the perfect opportunity to prove he’s worthy of your attention - too shy and too scared to do so, back in college, but he’s different, now. Confident, almost. More sure of himself.

“She hates me.” Jack huffs, “Last time we met she was giving me the stink eye all night.”

And of course it would be his brother to ruin his plans, yet again. You’ll probably hate him, too - a hatred so strong for Jack that it seeps through his entire bloodline, because Luke of all people knows he can be annoying like that.

“Trust me, she probably doesn’t care enough to hate you,” Luke scoffs, not realising the spool of information he’s just given Jack to unravel.

“You know her?”

“We had a class together. I know of her.”

Not the truth, but not exactly a lie.

Luke knows a lot about you. It’s borderline creepy, the observations he can still remember, even after so long.

He knows you like only like coffee if it’s iced, had seen you with too many clear plastic cups to count, had watched plump lips chewing at straws by the time you had finished the drink. He had even, one time, tried to zoom in on a picture of your order printed on the side in one of his many states of delusion where he had been trying to build himself up to ask you out.

He knows you can hold your own in an argument, had watched you debate with the best of them in your business comms class, has watched you shoot down most guys that approach you with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, and has watched you take down a frat guy or two, usually in defence of your sorority sisters - who Luke noticed you’re the most protective of.

He knows you match your perfume to the colour of your outfit, had notice you smelled citrusy like lemons in yellow, floral like roses in pink, sweet like candy in purple, and clean like fresh cotton in blue.

He knows the pieces of hair that frame your face curl when wet from the rain. Knows you used to volunteer at the pool on the weekends it was open to the kids of the community, would teach them how to swim. He knows you listen to Taylor Swift and has heard you humming just about every song of hers he knows.

But he doesn’t really know you - not on the level Jack is assuming, when his eyes widen and hope flashes across his crystal irises.

“You know how I’m your favourite brother?”

“No,”

“And I let you live with me all year?”

“My name’s on the lease.”

“Maybe you could talk to her for me?”

Luke sighs, shoulders heavy and eyes rolling practically to the back of his head. “I already told you, I don’t really know her like that.”

“C’mon, you could at least try! I’m dying here, Luke! She’s hogging all of Ellie’s time, and she won’t give me the time of day if I try!”

If only Jack knew how much time you’d ever given Luke, he wouldn’t be asking him such an absurd request.

You’re so out of his league, it isn’t even funny. He probably couldn’t convince you to light a candle in a power cut, much less to give his annoying brother a shot to prove himself.

“You’re wasting your time, Jack,” Luke responds, “I’m gonna meet Dylan at the club. No, you can’t come.”

And by the time Luke makes it out to his car, he’s relieved to have ditched that conversation, entirely. He knows what’s waiting when he gets home, what his brother is going to be like for the next few months to come, but a temporary relief is all he needs.

He had already been planning on getting a few late morning holes in at the club, and meeting up with Dylan had been a white lie, needing some alone time away from Jack’s incessant whining to think about how he was going to survive the summer - and seeing you on your break, perched on the edge of the fountain in the courtyard by the clubhouse bar, basking in the sun and talking with your co-worker, he feels like he might have just struck gold.

Since when do you work here?

He supposes since you decided to spend your summer with Ellie’s family - it only makes sense. Ellie doesn’t live too far from the club - not as close as the lake house, but closer than Ann Arbor, at least. She’d worked in the club shop last summer, even when Jack insisted he’d pay for whatever she needed while she was staying with them - had said it was nice to pass the time with something else while they all went off doing whatever - and he assumes you’re doing the same.

It’s the first time he’s seen you in a while, outside of coming across your pictures on his Instagram feed occasionally, or the flash of your figure in Ellie’s stories.

He had thought that, after the year he’s had, he’d be over schoolboy crushes like this - would be over the way his breath catches just at the sight of you, over the way the hairs on the back of his neck prick up and stand to attention, over the way his throat goes dry as he watches your eyes crinkle from afar, watches your lips curve up into a heart-stopping grin.

But it’s like he’s picked up straight from where he left off at the end of his college career, pining after you from afar with hearts in his eyes and feet that start to shuffle at just the thought of approaching you.

If he’s going to do this, though, he needs to be clever about it, he thinks.

Approaching you on your break, limited to the amount of time he can use to put his point across, wasting yours, doesn’t seem like something that will work.

Which is how he finds himself bypassing you completely and walking straight into the bar, offering a friendly nod to the guy stood at the front of house, and letting him point him toward the right section to be served in.

It isn’t long before you’re in front of him, sidling up to his booth, and he had almost forgotten how pretty you are up close. Hair clipped up with loose strands framing your face, chewing at your plump bottom lip as you scribble on your notepad to get your pen to work. And your honeyed voice settling deep in the pit of his stomach, warmth spreading throughout as you introduce yourself, like he has no clue who you are, and tell him you’ll be his server, “What can I get for you?”

“Five minutes of your time?”

The Luke that spent his college years obsessing over you might have stuttered - his voice might have broke, squeaked or choked in your presence - but while his throat does feel a little dry, he’s able to maintain his cool now, even when you look up from your scribblings to meet his eye. Maybe he can do this. Maybe he has matured.

His heart might jump in his chest, his mouth might tingle, his spine might stiffen, but he holds your gaze, hoping if you see a reflection of confidence that you might give him the time of day.

He’s seen you interact with guys before, has familiarised himself with the ten-foot walls you have in place, has seen others fold and try find a long way around, but he thinks that maybe matching your energy is the way to break through.

Who doesn’t love a shortcut?

Your eyes narrow back at him as pouted lips form around a response, looking him up and down before tilting your head, and coming back with, “I all of a sudden feel the need to inform you we do have security here,” you point the tip of your pen to the entrance, where he was greeted on the way in. “I meant a drink.”

“Water’s fine,” his gaze flickers to the movement of your wrist as you click the other side of your pen, not even writing it down. “Maybe with a side of conversation?”

“I’ll go get your water,” you offer a smile, and the insincerity of it does little to cool his bravado, even if you head off with mutterings of why do I always get the creeps?

He watches you as you make your way over to the bar, not creep-like whatsoever, and he channels the nerves that sneak up on him, now that you’re distanced, through fiddling with his fingers on the table, pinching at the tips of them when you glance back over your shoulder, probably telling the girl behind the bar just how lucky you were to once again get the weirdo in your section.

It surprises him how little he cares, possessing more of your attention now than he ever has before, and if he could tell the Luke from two years ago, who spent every shared Principles of Marketing class ritualistically watching you chew on the end of your pen, that he’d be able to make eye contact without dribbling and breaking out into full body sweats, he’d have lost his mind.

He embodies a strange level of dislocated arrogance that manifests itself in his body language, sinking into the booth with arms outstretched across the back, a dangerous smirk teasing the corner of his mouth when you return, placing a pitcher of water down on the table and a glass with ice.

“I’m Luke,” he tells you, placing a hand on his chest and doing his best to ignore the thudding he feels beneath it. “Hughes. Jack’s brother,” and when you look back over to him with a raised brow, he adds, “Ellie’s Jack.”

“And who’s Ellie?” You ask with a tilt of your head, your voice dripping in teasing sarcasm.

“Funny,” he quips, biting back the urge to call you what he actually means. He can hardly call you cute, you’d probably pour that water straight over him. “I went to UMich, we had a couple classes together.”

Your eyes narrow again, and he knows it’s an intimidation tactic, a way to make him feel smaller than he’s acting, shrinking him down to a version of himself you can stamp your authority on, but he finds himself being resilient for once, carrying on like he isn’t affected.

He is. Massively, in fact. Just not in the way you probably want. Your indifference drives him in a way that presses into his spine, an inner voice pleading, notice me, I’m breaking through!

“Bauman’s class, Business Comms, you sat in the second row, I sat in the third, you dropped your pencil one time and I-,”

“I know who you are.”

So he’s been yapping on at you for no reason? Fantastic.

He can’t let his momentum slip, though, so he forces the corners of his lips into a victorious smile, and counters, “So you know I’m not a creep.”

“You literally memorised my seat in a class from 2 years ago, so…”

“I have a good memory,” he’s quick to defend, fighting the urge to let his eyes linger on your pouted lips.

“Right,” you roll your eyes, “What is it you want, again?”

“I came to talk about Jack and Ellie.” He nods to the other side of the booth, and has to roll his shoulders so that his chest doesn’t inflate with misplaced hubris when you shuffle into the seat with a huff, discarding your notepad to the side as you level him with another raised brow.

“What about ‘em?”

“About how they’re hopelessly in love with each other and doing nothing about it.”

“You got hopeless right. What’s that got to do with us?”

Us. Oh, he likes that.

“I’m thinking they need a little shove in the right direction. And maybe we could be the shovers.”

You presses your lips together in faux-apology, a lopsided, patronising, adorable frown taking over your expression. “No can do, I don’t shove, I’m a pacifist.”

“A nudge, then?”

He isn’t giving up easy, no matter how much sarcasm you try to throw his way. You wouldn’t have sat down if there wasn’t something about this situation that irks you, too.

If Ellie is being only half as annoying as Jack is, he knows that you’re having a bad time of it. And you’re supposed to spending her summer with her - it can’t be easy, having your friend constantly pining over someone and refusing to do anything about it, if anything, making it your problem.

“Are you here to eat or annoy me?”

“Both,” he smiles, “I just figured a problem shared is a problem solved, and all.”

“How profound.”

“C’mon, you sat down, you at least agree they’re into each other, and I know you’re staying with her this year, so I know you’ve been getting the same grief I have.”

“I’ve been on my feet 4 hours, I wouldn’t look too deep into me sitting down.”

“Jack’s been moping around about her for years, I can’t listen to it anymore, he’s all, she’ll never like me back, this, and, I’ll never find a girl like her, that,” he whines, imitating his brother’s voice in the most annoying, high pitched tone he can muster, “I can’t take one more breakdown of her snap stories, especially not if it’s all summer if she’s not gonna be staying over, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“How supportive,” the sarcasm in your bite does little to hide the beginnings of your smile, your glare softening into what he hopes is the start of some sort of bond, a shared feeling of exasperation. Finding your footfall in common grounds.

“It’s relentless, we can’t go a single conversation anymore without him bringing her up,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, finally giving in to all the ways this is starting to grate on him. “I don’t get why neither of them do anything.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, too, relenting a little. “She talks about him so much it kind of makes me nauseous.”

“How supportive,” he mimics, nerve endings set alight when your eyes meet his over the table, and narrow in a different way, almost appreciative, almost respectable.

“Can it, Hughes,” you scoff, “Me even entertaining this conversation right now is support enough, I’ve had it in my ear for months about how she doesn’t know how she’ll make it through another summer.”

“That’s what I’m saying. If we can get them together this summer, then we’re both better off. No more whining or crying or earaches for either of us.”

“I’d hope you didn’t make your way out here with the mere promise of no more earaches, Luke.” He tries not to preen at the way you say his name. “What’s in it for me?”

“You and Ellie can stay at our lake house.” He suggests, straightening up before he leans onto the table, elbows extending so that he can rest on them, “It’s closer to the club than her family’s place, it’s gotta be better than having her siblings running around you all the time, I can even drive you to work when I’m free, if you want?”

You blink at him slowly, as if to say, and? “So I can stay at your glorified frat house, and you can be my chauffeur?” You ask with an unimpressed raise of your brow, before letting out a humourless scoff of, “What more could a girl want to do with her summer?

“What do you want?” He asks, leaning further forward.

“To go back to work and not worry about strange guys propositioning me, funnily enough.”

Luke laughs, a deep, breathy laugh that rises from the depths of his chest and comes alive in an almost-bark, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes flicker to his mouth when it comes out.

This is fun.

There’s no way he’s letting you leave this table without agreeing - just the thought of one more singular interaction keeping him on his toes.

“Why don’t we make it interesting, then?”

“It’s about time you tried.” The quiver of your lip tells him everything he needs to know - and that’s without the entertained glint in your eye that accompanies it. You’re enjoying this, just as much.

“We could make a competition out of it.”

“A competition?” You ask, with a curious tilt of your head.

There it is, he thinks. Interest: piqued. He practically has you in the palm of his hand. Who would ever have thought, the way to a sorority girl’s heart would be a friendly little wager?

“Whoever actually gets them together, wins.”

It’s all he can think of in the moment - petulant and part-planned, but it seems to be enough.

“Wins what?” You lean onto your elbows, your gaze levelling his as he mirrors your positioning, having to slouch a little further forward in his seat to meet your pretty eyes.

“Whatever you want.” He doesn’t intend it to come out as low as it does, doesn’t realise how close the two of you have gotten over the table, but he sees the flicker of something cross your features as your head tilts again, eyes still locked on his as yours begin to narrow, still just as pretty even when they’re glaring at him.

“It’s what you want that concerns me.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it,” he jibes, watching the way your lips part in preparation of another witty comeback. “What do you say?” He asks, not giving you the chance, seeing the way it makes your skin crawl that you weren’t quick enough, for once. “Are you in?”

You heave out a sigh, shoulders slumping - a tell-tale sign that you’re about to acquiesce - and Luke starts to feel his chest puff out in victory. This feels like a shut-out. It feels like the best performance of his life.

“You’re gonna make me regret this, aren’t you?”

“Oh definitely,” he smirks, eyes tracking you as you lean back into the booth, retreating from him in defeat, a hand running through your hair as he promises, “You’ll warm up to me soon enough, though.”

“I can’t see that happening.”

“I can,” he shrugs, leaning back too. “I’ve been told I’m inevitable.”

Luke can remember, like it was yesterday, the first time he ever saw you.

Freshman year, the week he moved into his dorm at Michigan, Jack had sent him across campus to check in on how Ellie was getting on. He had arrived with some extravagant gift basket in tow, plastic wrapped, a giant blue bow tied around the top and an assortment of snacks inside, and was left knocking for at least five minutes before you showed up.

“Please tell me you’re not another stripper-gram.”

If his throat hadn’t gone so dry all of a sudden, he thinks he would have had more wits about him to have questioned the use of another - a concept that had stuck in his head for weeks until he caught wind of a story of pledges for Pike being sent around campus and forced to lure girls to their house through way of humiliating song.

But God, you were pretty.

Siren eyes narrowed toward him, glossy lips pouted pensively, long lashes blinking impatiently as you awaited some kind of response that didn’t come in the form of an open, drooling mouth.

“I’m Luke.”

“Right.” You had sighed, pretty eyes rolling at him. “You’re blocking my door."

“Oh, I’m-,” he stuttered, immediately stepping to the side for you to come forward and insert your key into the lock. “Does Ellie live here?” He asked, confusion etched into his features as he watched you swing the door open, turning in your place to look him over again.

“Depends who’s asking.”

“I’m Luke.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I know her.”

“Clearly.”

“This is her basket.”

“Does she need to sign for it?”

“No, I-,”

“I’ll make sure she gets it, thanks, Lu!”

And when you had taken the basket from his hands, he had been too distracted by the way your skin brushed against his to properly respond, or worry if you had called him that as a nickname or had already forgotten his name, entirely.

He then spent days thinking about you, looking for you - at parties, in the campus coffee shop, online, despite not knowing your name - trying to commit to memory the way your eyes had sparkled when looking his way, until his first Business Communications class.

He had been a little early, first week nerves playing out and his constant craving for positive validation coming to the forefront, and was watching the door waiting for the professor to arrive. He had been slouched in his seat, chin in the palm of his hand, foot tapping rhythmically against the floor, and he had almost given himself whiplash when you walked in.

He learned your name from there, learned a lot just from watching you in that class, but never really captured your attention.

And if the Luke that has been driving you to work every few days, who has been living with you for the past two weeks - who sits around the same dining table, laughs at the same jokes cracked when you’re all lounging around the house, sits out under the same sun, drinks from the same carton of orange juice in the morning - could tell the Luke that sat pining after you all that time, all the little ways in which he’s captured your attention lately, he’d probably have an aneurysm.

When you and Ellie moved in, Luke had been the only one allowed to touch your stuff - and there’s a part of him that knows it was mainly because you enjoyed watching him work like a packhorse, hauling your cases up the stairs and dropping them in front of you with a huff, but there’s a larger, more delusional part that thinks you preferred him to the others, maybe even trusted him.

He’s taking credit for how quick you’ve adapted to the dynamic of the house, too. Of all the different faces coming in and out - Quinn’s friends, Jack’s friends, his friends, sometimes even his parents. If you’re around, you’re pleasant. You abide by house rules, some of them stupid, but set by the brothers so long ago that they just work now - like no phones outside of your rooms so that you can be more present. You insert yourself comfortably into conversations, you form your own relationships with everyone - you and Quinn trade book recommendations, you and Jack bicker while Ellie mediates. You do your fare share of chores - laundry, dishes, cooking, even.

And he’s so caught up in just sharing space, just being around you, even, that for those first couple weeks, he forgets why you even agreed to be there in the first place.

At least, he forgets the incentive part - because he watches mindlessly as you interfere in Jack and Ellie’s dynamic, without a care in the world for the fact that it means he’s losing.

He watches you push one of them out of the way to claim whatever seat at the table or in the car forces them to sit beside each other. He watches you taunt Jack to just the right point where Ellie interferes, coos at him protectively and he melts into her affections. He watches you agree to plans he knows you wouldn’t in a million years follow along with, just to get them together - and all he can do is admire how easy you make it seem.

He admires when you come out wakeboarding with the group, when you let him fasten you into a vest and don’t flinch when his fingertips brush against bare skin. Watches you bite your tongue over the fact you just got your hair blow dried - a fact you have no problems relaying back to him when he drives you to work the next day, and you’re muttering in his passenger seat about lake water giving you frizz - just so you’re not dampening the mood.

And when you agree to tag along to the golf course on your day off, despite the fact it’s so close to work if could be considered triggering, and you stick by Luke’s side so that Ellie can feign some sort of incompetence until Jack takes it upon himself to correct her form.

You stand by Luke’s side, the two of you watching with mirrored expressions of almost-disgust as Jack wraps his arms around Ellie’s body, and send a shiver down his spine when you lean in for only him to hear as you say, “I’d ask if you’ve put any more thought into what you want out of our bet, but I so have this in the bag.”

The bet.

Luke hasn’t thought about it since that day in the restaurant, if he’s honest, but he had known what he wanted then.

He’s hardly going to tell you, now, though.

If he’s ever going to take you out on a date, he doesn’t really want to force your hand - not that he has a chance, he’s fallen so behind with this Jack and Ellie thing that it isn’t even funny.

He needs to up his game, if only for the fact that you’ll no doubt catch on to his lack of efforts, soon.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he taunts, because it’s what he does best, “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“And how long do you plan on keeping them up there?” You call him out so easily, tilting your head when his eyes meet yours, mischief highlighted by the sunshine that speckles in your irises.

“Maybe I’m luring you into a false sense of security,” he shrugs, “Maybe I’m letting you do all the heavy lifting so I can swoop in when those weak arms get tired.” He pokes at your side, basking in the way you scowl like you pertain any sort of threat to him.

He has you figured out, by now.

“I didn’t have you pegged as being lazy, Hughes.”

“You spend a lot of time thinking about me, huh?”

“You wish,” you scoff, shoving when he dares to get too close, and it’s when Luke is biting back a full-blown grin that Ellie comes back over.

“This sun is crazy, I think I left the sunscreen in the locker room and Jack’s nose is going all red, would you come back with me?”

You smile sweetly at your best friend and agree, only glaring at Luke over Ellie’s shoulder when she’s distracted with saying her brief, temporary goodbyes to Jack, and once you’ve turned and made your way over to the cart, he lets his eyes linger on your figure as you retreat.

The soft sway of your ponytail, the expanse of smooth skin along your legs, he’s completely hypnotised, and he needs to pull himself together, he thinks.

He tries to regain focus as he and Jack work their way through the next couple of holes, caddying their clubs around without the cart, and chatting mindlessly until Jack sighs heavily, like he’s been waiting to bring something up.

“I want to take Ellie out on the boat tomorrow,” He states as Luke tees up, resting on his club as he squints against the sun to watch his little brother, “Just the two of us, so we can talk about stuff.”

“Sounds riveting,” the disinterest in Luke’s tone is amplified by the lack of attention he’s giving overall, looking out across the green and trying to measure his swing before he takes it. “Have fun.”

“I was thinking I’d need your help for it to work.”

“I’m not being your boat-butler again,” Luke scoffs, mind immediately going to all the times their parents would make Jack take Luke out with him and his friends, and all the times he was made to wait on his older brother hand and foot to make up for crashing his hang-outs.

“I’m not asking you to tag along,” Jack scoffs, “You third-wheeling would be the ultimate buzz-kill. I thought you could be of use elsewhere.”

“You’re making whatever it is sound so fun.”

Luke takes his swing, driving the ball and watching it soar to his desired point with a hand shielding his eyes from the sun. Jack watches too, stepping to Luke’s side to measure how far from his own ball it lands.

“Nice,” he mutters appreciatively as the two of them load their clubs into their stand bags. “I need you to keep Regina George busy, distract her or something, she’s stuck to Ellie like glue, it’s beyond annoying.”

If only he knew, Luke thinks, a worry in the back of his mind about how his brother owes more to you than he even realises.

“You worried she’s gonna make her see sense?”

Jack swats at his arm and rolls his eyes.

“I’m worried she’s gonna ruin the good vibes like she usually does and I won’t be able to bite my tongue from saying something and looking like the asshole.”

Distracting you isn’t the worst thing he could be doing with his time, Luke thinks. It’s not like he has to go all out, you’ll no doubt be hanging out around the house and the two of you can hang together. All he has to do is keep you off your phone. Shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve adapted pretty well to mimicking the guys when it comes to staying off theirs.

It ticks off the box of trying to fight for a scrap of your attention. With no one else around, you’ll have no choice but to entertain his company.

And it puts him in front of your little race - lending a helping hand to Jack’s plans to talk to Ellie is surely the same as getting them together. It’s all falling so perfectly into his lap. He isn’t being lazy.

But he can’t let Jack know that, so he heaves out a sigh and offers a slow shake of his head for dramatic effect. “Fine,” he groans, “But you owe me. Big time.”

You’re starting to find it harder and harder to pretend like you don’t want to be at the Lake House.

If you’re being honest, you don’t entirely know why you’re even trying to keep up pretences, but using your disinterest as armour has become like second nature over the years, and you’re hardly going to stop now.

Even if there are already so many little things about being there that are starting to wear you down.

Quiet, early mornings, for one - birds chirping just outside your open window, sun rays pouring in through sheer curtains that flow in the slight breeze, that light feeling that blows through your chest when you’re sat out on the deck behind the house with a fresh cup of coffee, looking out over the still lake and basking in the peace of it all.

And even when it’s not so peaceful, when the kitchen is full of bodies swerving around each other to try and throw together some sort of breakfast spread - pastries and fruit, bacon and eggs, various boxes of cereal on the counter. Quinn had even made a whole batch of pancakes one morning, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t come down every day since hoping to see him donning that same frilly apron that Cole had draped around his waist and working his magic with a pan.

You’ve never really been a part of such a full house. You had been an only child for so long - and by the time your parents split, and it was just you and your mom, on the days she wasn’t already at work when you got up - and were so ingrained in your own routine in the morning that you think you might actually need the chaos to function better. The rush of bodies, the arguments over who drank the last of the juice, the bickering over who’s turn it is to do the next grocery run - it’s a kind of entertainment you haven’t been privy to in a long time.

Being kind of disconnected from everything else isn’t as bad as you thought it would be, either. You’re not attached to your phone, checking socials to see what everyone else is doing, to see if your dad has sent any messages yet this summer, and you find yourself connecting a little more with the people around you and leaving your family stress on the back burner. You’re more focused on what’s in front of you, and your relationships with other people. With Ellie, with some of the guys in the house, with your friends at work, even.

And it’s nice to be closer to work too. You don’t have to rush around trying to make the bus - Luke has been keeping his word and driving you to the club most days, and where he can’t, either somebody else has offered, or you’ve just ridden one of the bikes in the garage that the boys said were free to use - the helmet hair is an easy fix when you have access to the locker rooms.

It’s an adjustment, for sure, getting used to being in a full house. Especially this one - with a constant revolving door of faces, friends of the brothers switching out week by week to come and stay, departing just as you’ve started getting to know them with a promise of dropping by again soon.

So far, you’re almost at double-digits for the names you’ve had to memorise. Some of them you were already familiar with, guys from Michigan who you already knew or knew of, but others were more Jack or Quinn’s friends that you’d never had the pleasure of meeting before now.

Cole Caufield being one of them.

He had arrived a couple of days after you and Ellie moved yourselves in, closer to Jack than the other two brothers, you had noticed, and was going to be staying longer than any of the other visitors - having his own designated room in the house, similar to you girls.

You like Cole - he’s good fun, can take a joke unlike his supposed best friend, and has the kind of smile that almost gives you a buzz whenever it’s flashed your way. Your first few interactions with him were seemingly pleasant, despite Jack constantly in his ear with a hardened glare pointed your way and no doubt unsavoury words uttered. Cole would just shrug him off, laugh, meet your eyes and drop a wink your way - a gesture you’d usually squirm and cringe at, but Cole kind of pulls it off.

He joins in when you chirp Luke, too - which, if your honest, is your main source of entertainment since arriving, so your interactions with him grow day by day.

You haven’t really spent any one-on-one time with Cole yet, though. You were hoping to, before he left to visit home for the weekend - for no other reason than to get the scoop on something you’d happened upon at work last week - and had planned on asking him to hang out on your day off. But with Cole now gone for a few days, Jack and Ellie off doing god knows what, Quinn and Luke working out wherever, you have no choice but to spend your free Sunday lounging around the house, trying to find something to suppress your growing boredom.

You start with your nails, painting them a summery orangey-red and doing your toes to match, then do your laundry, abiding by house rules that you rotate the loads between the machines, and fold out whoever’s clothes were last in the dryer and place them in the hamper on the side.

You’re hoping you haven’t had to fold Jack’s underwear but you decide to live in blissful ignorance - trying to identify the load based on the rest of the clothing in there is impossible when they all share, so it kind of works in your favour.

You FaceTime your mom for almost an hour, getting an update on what she’s been up to with work, and giving her updates on how your summer is going, trying to focus on your time at the club and Ellie so she doesn’t worry too much again that you’re spending your summer in a house filled with boys.

And by the time Luke and Quinn come back from their workout, you’re in the lounge, 50 pages deep into a book you really couldn’t care less about, but there’s something in you that refuses to beg one of them for company, so you suffer in silence.

Even when Luke does join you, throwing himself down onto the opposite side of the couch you’re occupying and pushing your feet off his side like it’s his sole purpose just to annoy you.

“I was comfortable there, asshat,” you frown, lifting your feet back into their previous position and using one to give him a light kick to his thigh.

“Yeah, well, I hardly want your feet all up in my business while I’m trying to relax,” he sighs, sinking into the cushions with hands clasped behind his head, biceps flexing and tightening the arms of his t-shirt in a way that momentarily catches your eye. You’re thankful for his closed eyes, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you divert your attention back to the mundane words on the pages in front of you.

“And yet here you are when there are 2 other couches.”

“Yeah, well, I know how much you like to be near me.”

You try to ignore him, pulling your feet a little closer to your body and focusing back on the book, but it’s hard when Luke has such a presence. You feel the little looks he keeps sending your way like a physical touch, and the couch shifts with every slight movement he makes, so when he constantly shuffles, you start to think he wants your attention.

Of course he wants your attention. This is Luke Hughes.

“Are you just sitting down here to annoy me?”

He lights up, like he’s just been waiting for you to ask, and shuffles in his seat to face you, fully, bouncing in place like a puppy being teased with a tennis ball.

“I’m actually trying to distract you, if you must know.”

“Bold of you to assume you have enough of my attention to be distracting in the first place,” you scoff, trying not to react to the way he smirks in your peripheral, the words in front of you all blurring together. If you were actually focused on them, you’d have lost your place, already.

“I think you pay more attention to me than you’d like to admit.”

“That’s some ego you’ve got on you, Hughes,” you narrow your eyes as you look above the edge of your book, “Is that what you spend that big NHL paycheque on, charisma classes? How to flirt for dummies?”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing? Flirting?”

Damn. You walked yourself right into that one.

Sometimes biting back at Luke comes like second nature, words first, thoughts after - and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it that way. It’s easy, the back and forth, and you can’t really think of an instance with him where you’ve sat in a lingering, awkward silence. You’ve really grown to hate silence, lately.

“You wish.”

“You think I’m charismatic,” he teases in a sing-song voice, knocking at your knee and wiggling his eyebrows when you glare at him.

“I think you’re an idiot.”

“You’re not gonna ask what I’m distracting you from?”

“I don’t really care,” you lie, eyes darting back down and diverting the attention he so desperately craves away from him.

“Jack wanted to take Ellie out on the boat.” He says, ignoring your attempts to ignore him - pushing your buttons like a full time job. Like an operator for your last nerve.

“Good for her.”

“Alone.”

“No shit.”

“To ask her out.”

“Whoop-de-doo.”

“Whoop-de-,” Luke straightens up, like a whack-a-mole with his head positioning itself over the top of your book, and you kind of wish you had one of those soft mallets right about now. It would be so satisfying to bonk at his head, you think. “What do you mean, whoop-de-doo, is this not what you agreed to be here for? To get them together?”

You scoff, flicking to the next page of the book in feigned disinterest. “He isn’t asking her out today.”

This is the exact something you had wanted to talk to Cole about - whispers in the staff lounge at work earlier in the week doing the rounds would imply otherwise, but your main source is kind of a gossip, and you’re not entirely sure of their reliability, despite the few degrees of separation to the subject at hand.

Mutterings of Jack and Cole and their little country club connections.

You can hardly ask Luke of all people if his brother is as much of a man-whore as everyone is making out. Cole was a safe bet - he’d probably just tell you straight up what they’re up to, wear his pride like a shining gold medal. He’s upfront about his promiscuity, at least. Luke is more protective. Of himself, of his family, you’re not entirely sure. There haven’t been as many whispers about him.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because he’s a spineless idiot,” you retort, eyes flicking up momentarily to take in his furrowed brow. “No offence,” comes out of nowhere, and you surprise yourself with the instinct to lessen the blow of your words for the first time in forever.

“None taken, he’s only my flesh and blood,” Luke huffs, “You’re just jealous I’m winning our bet.”

“Sure,” you drawl, eyes widening to emphasise the sarcasm as you make a point of angling your head to the next page, like you’ve taken a single word in for the past five minutes. “He’s been talking to one of the girls from work. There’s no way he’s doing that and asking Ellie out, unless he’s completely brain dead.”

And when you look back at Luke, that furrowed brow has shifted into a full blown frown, pouted lips and eyes cast down as if he’s trying to figure everything out in his head.

It’s probably the pout that has you cushioning your words, once more.

“Again, no offence, I doubt it’s in your DNA.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m no bio student but I don’t think there’s a genetic marker for being a fuckboy.”

“No, about him talking to one of the girls at the club. He didn’t tell me that.”

Why does he have to sound like that? Let down and unsure, quieter than you think you’ve ever heard him. It’s like the tone he carries goes straight to your fingers, clasping the book closed without marking your page - because what business do you have carrying on that charade?

“Do you guys tell each other everything?” You ask as you throw the book until it lands on the coffee table with a gentle thud, shuffling until you’re sat against the arm of the couch with knees bent in front of you, giving him your undivided attention and feeling guilty that it might not be enough.

“I thought we did,” he scratches at the back of his head, nervously, “He literally told me yesterday he was taking her out to talk about stuff, why would he make a point of asking me to keep you busy if he’s not serious about asking her out?”

“You don’t want to hear my answer to a question about your brother not being serious.”

“Who’s the girl?” He asks, ignoring your comment despite the slight ghost of a smile you see flash into the corner of his mouth.

“Jessica, she works at the pro shop, apparently they’ve been texting all summer.”

You know for a fact that since you’ve started paying attention, you’ve seen Jack on his phone a lot for a guy who chirps you for your own screen-time, and who has enforced the house rule of no phones outside your room like a prison guard yells out no touching at visitation. So it sort of checks out. You’ve tried to sneak a peak, but he’s protective of his stuff like a yappy little dog with attachment issues at the best of times, so you haven’t really put too much effort into it.

“There were a few people talking about it in the lounge at work the other day,” you shrug, “One of the girls talking about it is Jess’ best friend, so not exactly from the horse’s mouth, but I don’t think she’d be spreading lies about her friend around like that.”

“Can you find out?”

“You ask that like I haven’t been trying.” That gets a full smile, a small chuckle that lifts his shoulder, even, “I was gonna grill Caufield about it but he’s gone. But I know you guys have plans when he gets back tomorrow, so if you want to take Cole I’ll hack away at the grape vine at the club?”

“Does this mean we’re teammates?”

“No. It absolutely does not.”

Hacking away at the grapevine is really a lot more like plucking absentmindedly at an overgrown patch of grass when it comes to workplace gossip.

By the end of your shift, you’re leaving the club with a fist clutched full of loose blades, fingers stained green from the amount of information people were willing to ‘fess up.

Liam who works behind the bar had overheard a conversation where Jack had mentioned Jessica, but could only give you useless tidbits, like how he had to stop by the shop for a new putter, and Jess had been the one to ring him up.

Hardly incriminating, but you had a feeling it would be a small piece of a way larger puzzle. That, and guys are notoriously useless at gossiping, there’s definitely more to that story than Liam could even comprehend in his tiny man brain.

Cassidy who works at the front desk had seen Jack and Jess talking in the main lobby last week, definitely flirting, she had said - with hair flips and giggles galore - and way too familiar to be new.

Much better.

Paola who has the alternative shifts in the pro shop was more than willing to take up ten minutes of your time ranting how Jess’ work is never fully done when it comes to a handover, and she spends half her time on her phone. Kiran, who works the bev cart every Monday, said Jack is always one of the most charming in their golfing group, so it’s no surprise if he is exchanging texts with girls from the club.

You get dirt from most corners of the place, and it leads you all the way back to your station, to reservations set for the restaurant, where tonight’s list - unfortunately a shift you’re not set to work, although you very much question the serendipity of that - has Jack’s name down at 7pm. A table for 2 in the back corner, shielded from prying eyes and intimate.

And if it weren’t for the fact you’ve already worked a full shift, you would consider staying just to get the full scoop.

You know Ellie isn’t going to be the one sat across from him, she’s been sending you pictures all day of her various hauls for her quiet night in. New paints and pencils, a sketchpad, some candles - she has all intentions of working on her watercolour technique.

So it has to be for him and Jessica.

Imagine his face, you think, picturing wide, panicked eyes as you roam up to his table to take his order. He’d actually crap his pants.

But, it’s another set of eyes that you picture when you start to enjoy the scheming a little too much. The sad, teary eyes of your best friend, when she finds out the guy she’s been hung up on for half her life, who she has all but convinced herself isn’t interested, and is - absurdly - ‘far too good’ for her - yeah, right - is dating other girls while taking her out on not-so-platonic boat dates only the day before. A boat date that she had come back to your room, flung herself onto her belly on the bed, and kicked her feet as she gushed all about it.

So you make your way back to the house after a long day, and resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to, yet again, get all your information on Jack’s date second hand.

You primed Cara, your colleague in the restaurant, to keep an eye out, and she promised to send updates on her breaks, and you have been holed up in yours and Ellie’s shared bedroom trying to keep her busy when there is a persistent knock at the door, and a mop of soft, curly brown hair pokes in before his eyes meet yours.

“Hey, Luke!” Ellie chimes, cheery and all too blissfully unaware of the potentially horrific circumstances you’ve stumbled upon. “You need to borrow my conditioner again?”

You scoff from your position on the bed, watching a slight pink hue flush up Luke’s neck.

“What? No,” he denies, running a hand through his hair and seemingly frowning a little at the way it feels. “I’m going to the store, wondered if either of you needed anything?”

“Nah, thanks, we’re good,” Ellie smiles, attention diverting straight back to where she’s drawing in her sketchbook, missing the way Luke widens his eyes and tilts his head as if to encourage you to take him up on his offer.

“Can I come with?” You shuffle from your position on the bed, swinging your legs out from beneath you and over the side as Ellie looks back at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you wanted something.”

“Someone’s got to show the poor guy what’s what on the haircare aisle, El.”

And you’re thankful that Ellie has settled herself in for the evening already by 6:45, showered, pyjamas on, otherwise she might have tried to tag along, too, just for something to do.

You swipe her phone before she can notice and hide it under your pillow before you leave, thinking it might reduce the risk of her getting bored and texting Jack, or, worse, checking his location.

A trip out gives you the chance for you and Luke to debrief each other on your findings of the day - or, as it turns out, just you, because Luke Hughes might be the worst information-gatherer on planet Earth.

Finding his life’s niche in hockey is fortunate, because he definitely wouldn’t cut it as an investigator.

“He just said he didn’t know anything,” Luke shrugs of his earlier encounter with Cole, and you try not to gape at him in disbelief as he fiddles with the screen in his BMW, scrolling through the interface in search of the nearest store.

You swat his hand away with a scoff, typing in a destination, “And you believed him?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

“You’re about as useless as a chocolate teapot, Hughes. What is it with guys and gossip, are you all really that dumb?”

“That’s the address for the club,” he points out, ignoring your jibe as he starts driving.

“Well done, you can read.”

“Why?”

“Because, thankfully, one of us is a good detective.” You snark, “Jack’s there.”

“So?”

“He’s on a date.”

“No he isn’t,” Luke frowns, attention momentarily taken from the road as he looks over at you. “I’ve been with him all afternoon, he would have told me if he had a date, tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d he say he was going when he left, earlier?”

He hadn’t been home when you got back from work, but that had been around an hour ago. You figured if he was sneaky enough to book into the restaurant when you’re not working, he’d have his wits about him to avoid you, entirely. Whenever the two of you cross paths, you can’t help but try get on his last nerve, and he’s hardly going to want to start his evening in a foul mood.

“To get his hair cut.”

Jesus Christ, you think, he’s so lucky he’s cute.

“You’re so clueless. He’s at the lounge with Jessica, the girl I told you about yesterday.”

“And what are we supposed to do about that?”

“We’re gonna supervise. And maybe interfere, if necessary.”

You don’t really have a plan, but it seems like the right thing to at least get a look in as to what the hell Jack thinks he’s doing, especially if you’re going to carry on with this whole plan of getting him and Ellie together. If he’s seriously entertaining other girls while making out to Luke that he only has eyes for Ellie, your plans might have to change. You’re not sure if Luke will be on board with the new path you’re willing to take, but you’ll be happy to kill his brother on your own.

“Interfere?” Luke’s eyes are wide, but he keeps them on the road, fingers flexing against the wheel. “I just came out for chips to make nachos, not play spies!”

“Cara’s working tonight, she said she’d keep an eye on them for me. I bet if I cover her hosting shift on Friday she’d sabotage their date. We’d just have to sit back and watch.”

“Oh,” Luke’s brows furrow, as if it’s taking any consideration at all to mess with his brother. “You really are an evil genius.”

You try not to think too hard about who’s been spewing that rhetoric already in his ear, and instead you smile when he casts his eyes your way, proud and pleased.

“Thank you.”

It takes another 15 minutes to get to the club, considering Luke’s best Driving Miss Daisy impression, so their date is already underway by the time Cara is ushering you to a booth in the far corner, where you can see Jack’s table, but he shouldn’t be able to see yours, and agreeing to play along.

“Can I get you guys any drinks?” She asks as she hands over two menus, and you’re too interested in trying to gauge the vibe at the other table while Luke looks over his.

“Two diet cokes, shaved ice, no lemon,” he says, and you can’t help but frown at the way the specificity of that order rolls so easily off his tongue. That’s your order.

“Any food?”

“Could we just get some nachos, please?” You ask, sliding your menu across the table without even looking, not wanting to give Luke too much of a chance to peruse his own out of fear you’ll be here all night. “And extra picante on the side.”

“Extra guac, too,” Luke adds as Cara scribbles the instructions on her notepad, “And some of those chicken tenders, and extra ranch. And maybe some fries. Yeah, chilli fries. And breadsticks.”

You level him with a glare, already proven right in your decision not to give him too much time to think about what he wanted. He’ll order every appetiser on the menu, if given half the chance.

“Thanks, Cara, that’s everything.”

“Sure thing, should be around fifteen minutes. They only just ordered,” she points her pen back to Jack’s table, where Jess is leaning onto the table and Jack is leaning back in his seat - heavy on the distance but even heavier on the eye contact. That little shit.

“Does he have any allergies?” You lean onto your own table to ask Luke, quirking a brow up when his eyes darken in response, mischief swirling in his emerald irises.

“Absolutely not,” Cara interjects, “I’m doing this so you cover my job, not make me lose it.”

“Let me guess, he ordered the steak, medium-rare?” Luke asks, and she nods, hesitantly. “Char it.”

“Won’t he complain?”

“He’ll just grumble to himself about how tough it is. It’ll put him in a bad mood. That’s what we want, right?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding your head to ease Cara’s worries despite what you really want is for Chef Michael to poison the cut, entirely. If Jack Hughes wants to play with your best friend’s heart, you’ll play with his gut. But you can settle for burnt meat. Luke can work some sort of magic with that, you think, convincing Jack of all people that any first date that resulted in him coming home all sour-puss and sulky should never result in a second. “Bad mood. Bingo.”

“Fine,” Cara grumbles, “But if he even thinks about asking for a manager, you’re covering my next 3 Fridays.”

She storms off to the kitchen, and you and Luke simultaneously sink into your seats, attention immediately diverted back to the table in the opposite corner of the room.

“We should have kept the menus,” Luke mutters from across the booth, “Could have hidden behind them.”

“What are we, children?” You snark, “You can’t think of any more creative ways to stay hidden?”

“I heard PDA makes people pretty uncomfortable,” he leans onto the table, dropping you a wink when you glance over out of the side of your eye, “We should make out to throw everyone off the scent.”

“In your dreams, Hughes.”

Luke sort of envies the charm you hold over people.

The way you can convince people to do your bidding with a mere flutter of your eyelashes or a flash of pearly teeth and a glimmer in your irises.

He has trouble, sometimes, skirting around his honesty or hiding his intentions - and he knows that’s not a bad thing, knows that being clear and truthful is an admirable trait, if anything - but the way you persuade others to bend to your whim with intricate white lies based on observations you’ve made or intel you’ve gathered is a praiseworthy level of genius.

It had taken such minimal effort for you to get Cara on side, to convince her that being a little clumsy is hardly grounds for her termination, and spilling a little of Jack’s drink close to the edge of the table - close enough that it drips onto his pants and Luke can see the steams of frustration exuding from his brother’s skin from all the way on the other side of the restaurant - or bumping her hip on the edge of their table every time she passes are really just harmless irritations, not likely to cause actual complaint.

You had used the mere tone of your voice to convince Liam from behind the bar to squeeze a little lime in Jack’s water, knowing just from observing him back at the house that he hates the taste, face curling in disgust at even the slightest hint of it, and Luke had watched your eyes gleam in delight every time Jack took a sip of his drink and tried not to spit it back out, seeking much needed reprieve to swallow down the world’s toughest steak cut.

You’d even worked your magic on him, pouting your lips when the food had arrived at the table, and he had initially declined to share his chicken tenders with you - your grumblings at him ordering enough to feed the five thousand fresh in his memory, but so easily wiped away by the soft, sad look in your eyes, and your whining of, “But I didn’t realise how hungry I’d get. Plotting and scheming is hard work, Luke.”

You ended up eating half, but he could hardly complain - you were doing the heavy lifting out of the two of you.

He was sitting back and enjoying the show - enjoying your company, if he’s honest. Enjoying the way his gangly limbs would sometimes knock into yours under the table, enjoying the way he kept getting little nuggets of information out of you while you were distracted, sipping at your coke and making little comments about yourself, about your life, without even realising you’re doing it.

And an unplanned, pseudo date ends up being the first time he thinks he’s had a glimpse at the real you.

The you who knows more about hockey than you’ve ever let on before, who comes back to his stories with contextual questions about the game, even has references to a few games of his back at Michigan, and keeps the conversation flowing despite your feigned disinterest, and a constant gaze cast his brother’s way.

That would usually drive him crazy.

He’s experienced it so often that he has come to expect it, people only entertaining his company to acquire the attention of his brothers, but that’s not what you’re doing. Not really.

You pay more attention to Luke than you’d ever let on.

You ask him about his time in Ostrava at the beginning of summer, even though he’s only mentioned being overseas once while you’ve been staying with him - an offhanded comment from Quinn at breakfast that you must have taken on. Ask him about all the food he tried while out there, when he mentions he doesn’t like picante, and you use it as a springboard to talk about what sort of spices he does like, or if he’s the type to try things or stick to what he knows.

You ask him about being the youngest sibling, and it stems from an offhanded comment Luke had grumbled about always being the last to be clued in on stuff, about how Jack had probably confided in Quinn about his extracurricular activities at the club, and didn’t trust him enough to let him in on the fact he’s going out on dates. You ask if he usually figures things out himself before he’s told them, if that’s what makes him so good at observing and analysing stuff, and he hadn’t ever realised he was particularly good at those things before you brought it up. But then you reference a day in class one time, where he had picked up on something in a textbook that you never would have figured out in a million years, and his heart leaps at the praise you don’t even realise you’re giving him.

You sandwich your perceptions in your usual snark, but he doesn’t miss the slight curve of your lips anymore when he bites straight back, knowing now that there is some part of you that feels the nip of his teeth, that acknowledges his existence beyond him being a speck of inconvenience in your peripheral.

And he gets a little carried away in that acknowledgement - stops paying attention himself to what is happening on the other side of the room and tries to focus on what’s in front of him; the girl he pined after his entire college career, sat sharing nachos and pretending not to know him at a level you so clearly do.

You must get carried away, too, because neither of you notice Jack’s date wrapping up until Luke catches him hand his card over to Cara.

He’s lost count of how long the two of you have been at the club, now - way longer than it takes to get chips from the store, that’s for sure - and all he does know is that if Jack catches either of you two here, after a night of mishaps, bad food, spilled drinks and Cara’s incessant clumsiness, he’ll know who’s to blame.

“We better get out of here before he sees us,” Luke sighs, not entirely wanting to wrap up his time with you but knowing he doesn’t really have a choice.

“I’ve just got to pick something up before we head back,” you reply, edging out of the booth at the same time Luke does, “I’ll meet you out front just give me two minutes?”

“Be quick,” he tells you before you scurry off, and he flags down Cara, who tells him you already put your bill on your worker tab. He tells her to switch it to his, and that he’ll drop by tomorrow to pay it off, promising to leave her a good tip for her stellar services for the evening.

He waits where you asked him to, making sure to stick to the side of the entryway where he can duck for cover if his brother makes an appearance - but you show up first, skipping out from the staff lounge with a bag of tortilla chips in hand.

“Let’s go, Lukey boy!” He follows you out like a puppy on a leash, all the way to where his car is parked, almost bumping into you when you stop and turn without warning, stretching your hand out to him. “Give me your keys.”

“Are you crazy?” He snorts, “You’re not driving my car!”

“I know a shortcut!” You reason, stepping forward and making a grabby motion with your fingers, “We gotta beat Jack home, I just paid another server $20 to spill a whole drink on him before he leaves and he’s gonna be pissed. I want to see the meltdown back at the house and you drive like a nun!”

Luke doesn’t know why he gives in so easy - it could be the proximity, the way you’re so close you have to look up at him, eyes twinkling softly under the moonlight, voice carrying over to him like a siren song, or it could just be because he’s weak - but he hands his keys over with a roll of his eyes and climbs into the passenger side, sliding the seat back with a huff to accommodate his long legs and watching as you adjust the driver’s side, cringing at the way he’s gonna have to figure out exactly how he had it before.

You drive like a maniac, to the point where Luke has to screw his eyes shut as you use some back road, can hear the squelch of mud beneath his tires and squirms at the thought of having to take it to the car wash, tomorrow.

But you make it back to the lake house much quicker than if he were driving, he’ll give you that. So quick that you feel comfortable enough to turn to him once you’ve pulled up, in no rush to unbuckle and get out to get inside before Jack gets home.

“Just so we’re clear, this is a point under my name. You’re not claiming tonight as a win.”

Luke chuckles, turning in his seat to face you, features illuminated by the dim overhead light that turns on when the engine switches off and a slight flush of exhilaration to your cheeks. There’s no pretending you haven’t enjoyed yourself, not tonight. “But the steak thing was my idea?”

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be sat watching baseball and thinking he was getting a 3 hour haircut, you can’t seriously be trying to steal this from me, I thought you athletes had integrity!”

“You’re really keeping score?”

“You’re not?”

If Luke’s honest, he hasn’t really thought about your whole wager all night. He’s been too wrapped up in the idea that his brother had lied to him. Twice. And now his whole plan for the two of you all summer has potentially been messed up. But hearing you mention it, hearing you talk about it like it hasn’t been flushed down the toilet by his brother’s idiocy sparks something in him - excitement, anticipation. He doesn’t want to let this go.

“I actually think we made a good team back there,” he shrugs, eyes meeting yours to gauge your reaction to the thought of doing this together.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re gonna lose,” you retort, eyes sparkling with those same sentiments he had just felt.

“Probably,” he acquiesces, “Also ‘cause you kind of scare me a little after tonight, last thing I wanna do is go up against you when you have the power to turn half the country club against me.”

You smirk, and his eyes are drawn to the plush curve of your lips, watching them as they form around the softly spoken words, “God forbid you can’t go a round of golf without your caddy breaking down.”

“Exactly.” He mutters back, glad to see your gaze is still zeroed in on him when he meets it again. He can feel the thump thump thump of his pulse in his ears, and takes a deep breath before proposing, “Partners?”

He cocks a brow and holds his pinky out over the centre console, and you eye the digit, sceptically, narrowing your eyes into a glare before raising them to meet his. “Fine,” you grumble, then hook your little finger through his and tighten it to shake, a slight yelp of surprise filling the car when he tugs, your lax arm giving way until your knuckle touches his lips and he kisses it.

“Ew,” you whine, snatching your finger back as he fills the space himself with a hearty chuckle, wiping it on his hoody in disgust. “That’s gross!”

“No take backs,” he smiles, victorious, with his chest puffed out, primed for you to swat at with the flex of your hand, and the two of you are only pulled out of the moment by the sound of tyres pulling up on the gravel behind you, both of you stumbling to unbuckle yourselves and climb out of the car.

Jack is exiting his own vehicle behind, and stomps down the driveway, shouldering past you until he realises who he has passed, turning back and looking at you with suspicion cast across his features.

“Where have you twobeen?” Jack asks, glancing a curious eye between the two of you before meeting Luke’s gaze, levelling him with an inquisitive glare.

“We went to the store for chips,” Luke holds the bag up, the crinkle loud enough for Jack to hear, and he feels an insurgence rising within him, spurred on by the way his brother is looking at him like he’s the one who should be ashamed of his actions. “Nice haircut.”

Jack runs a hand through his hair, surprise crossing his features in a brief flash at the call out, like he had never even expected Luke to notice his hair looks no different to the last time he saw him mere hours ago, like he would never even need to question his alibi.

“Oh, yeah, I got the day wrong. Went out for dinner instead.”

“On your own?” You ask from beside him, your presence giving Luke the kind of back up he very much needs right now, a new target for Jack’s narrowed eyes that takes the heat off of him a little, lessens the burden of lying to his brother - despite Jack being the one who started it, it doesn’t make Luke feel any less bad, doesn’t quell the need to word vomit and admit to all the ludicrous things he had done to ruin Jack’s night. “You end up having a little accident there, bud?”

Luke tries not to outwardly laugh as his attention is diverted to the wet patch that still soaks up the front of Jack’s pants, lips quivering as he presses them together, oblivious to the steam pouring out of his brother’s ears as he immediately gets riled up.

“One of your esteemed colleagues at the club apparently lacks hand eye co-ordination. Plus, some of us like our own company,” Jack scoffs, “Some of us can go an evening without the need to annoy anybody else.”

“It’s not news to me that you’re in love with yourself, dude,” you retort back, entirely unbothered by his jibes. “Bet you’ve got all sorts of riveting thoughts swirling around that ginormous head of yours, must keep you busy for hours on end.”

“At least I have thoughts, at least I’m not some airheaded-,”

“Hey,” Luke’s tone is authoritative when he calls out, stern and demanding, “Cut it out, Jack.”

“She started it!”

“She asked you a question,” Luke frowns, disappointed with how quick his brother had taken to escalating the situation, all in an attempt to deflect the attention from his own deception. He knows you don’t need him to protect you from Jack’s sharp tongue, knows you can very much defend yourself, but he needs to vent his frustrations, somehow, without causing a bust up on the driveway. “You could have just give her a straight answer without biting her head off.”

He feels like you’re a little closer, all of a sudden, and he doesn’t know it’s the slight brush of your arm against his or if it’s something else, something less tangible - but it warms him, all the same. Steadies the static thump of his heart in his chest at the thought of starting an argument with his brother out of nowhere.

“Whatever,” Jack rolls his eyes, “I’m going to bed.”

And as Jack turns, Luke sees your lips part, ready to send him off with the last word until a large hand clamps itself over your mouth, and your wide eyes meet his over the sides of his fingers.

He’s not sure why he did it, why he all of a sudden feels comfortable enough to cross the boundaries of purposeful touch, but he doesn’t entirely regret it.

Plush lips press mid-word against his palm, and your skin is soft, cheeks warming ever so slightly beneath his hand.

“You gotta let him go, there’s no use fighting with him tonight, it’s better to drag it out. Didn’t think I’d have to teach you about the beauty of the long game,” he says, voice low as he watches his brother retreat to the house, waiting until he’s safe inside to retract his hand. “Not like this, anyway.”

“Your brother’s an asshole,” you grumble, “Full offence.”

“No arguments from me,” Luke concedes, holding his hands as if surrendering to the fact, himself. “What are you gonna tell Ellie?”

“Nothing.” You sigh, stepping a little down the drive and toward the house before turning back to him. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, partner.”

There have only been a handful of times in your life you’ve ever been thankful for work coinciding with huge plans, but when the group had decided that they wanted to go see Zach Bryan play Ford Field, you had thanked your lucky stars you had been put down to work a full shift at the restaurant and wouldn’t be able to go.

Not only for the fact that he isn’t really your thing, but for the fact that you’re finally getting a full evening to yourself.

So far, in your time at the house, most evenings have been spent with everyone else - group dinners, game nights, movie nights, even a couple of girls nights with just you and Ellie scattered in there, but nothing on your own, yet.

You can’t wait. And with an empty house, you have a full pamper night planned. You’ve been stocking up odd bits on your trips to the store over the past couple of weeks - sheet masks, aromatherapy candles, you’ve even picked up some flower petals from the spa at the club, in the hopes that you might even treat yourself to a relaxing soak in the bathtub. You can play whatever music you want, make whatever food you want, sit wherever you want in the house, out on the deck, overlooking the lake with a book in hand and no chirpy voices in your ear all night.

You can’t wait.

The only downside is not having a ride home, but you haven’t finished too late. The sun will still be up for a couple of hours, and a walk in the simmering heat back to the house doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

Your feet carry you with ease down the back roads, and you even make the journey without your headphones on, taking in the scenery, the blissful peace of your surroundings, so lost in the tranquility of it all that the sight of Luke washing his car on the drive when you get home dampens your mood as quick as a torrential downpour of rain, flash floods coursing through your evening and wrecking your plans entirely.

“What the hell are you doing?” You can’t help the bite in your tone as you approach, sneakers crunching against the gravel as Luke pauses the hose, looks over at you with the sun in his eyes, and you have to remind yourself he’s just ruined the one night you have for yourself before you get distracted by the fact that he’s shirtless.

“Washing my car?” he calls back, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Detroit right now?”

Luke shrugs, and you have to will your eyeballs not to move any lower than his neck to watch his shoulders lift and drop, lest you get too caught up in the broad expanse of his chest and do something ridiculous like drool.

“Wasn’t feeling it.”

“You weren’t feeling a concert you guys haven’t shut up about for weeks, but you were feeling washing your car?”

He’s dead. When he’s finished with his car and he retreats to his room, you’re gonna smother him with a pillow and discard of his body in the lake. You’re not even gonna let him shower, first. That’s what the lake’s for.

He’s crapping all over your plans because he wasn’t feeling it?

“It needs cleaning,” he shrugs again, and you swear you’re gonna jump in and run him over with the damn thing, “In fact, you really should be helping me.”

There’s a small part of you that feels like the thoughts of violence are worryingly aggressive, but then a larger part of you realises he must have a death wish.

“How’d you get to that conclusion?”

“You’re the one who drove us through a swamp,” he scoffs, a pointed hand flung toward the body of his car, where the sides are lined with a thick layer of dried dirt from the other night, “You get it dirty, you clean it up.”

“As much as I would absolutely love to fulfil your pervy car wash fantasy, I have much better things I could be doing with my time.”

Or you did, until Luke rained all over your parade of solitude.

“Like what?”

“Literally anything but this.” You gesture at the show he’s putting on. The suds dripping from the roof of the car, the hose in his hand, the buckets scattered around the perimeter. “I need to shower, I just walked from the club and I-,”

A death wish might actually be an understatement.

Luke wants you to murder him in the most gruesome, horrific way you could possibly muster - he has to, because there’s no other explanation for why he’d turn the hose on, point it straight at you, and drench the front of you, entirely.

You can feel the fabric of your t-shirt dampening and sticking to your chest, and you scrunch your eyes shut to stop droplets of water slipping into them, thankful that when they open again, his own are looking back at you, and not any lower.

You’d really have a reason to kill him, then.

“You did not just do that.” You growl, glaring back at him with a clenched jaw as the fucker beams back at you, pressing the trigger once more in a short burst that fires straight at your chest, again.

“What, that?”

“You’re so dead.”

You drop your bag and launch for him, aiming to take the hose from his grip, but he fires it again out of sheer panic, the water spouting out from between your splayed fingers, cold and pressured, and it soaks the both of you, raining down as you grapple for the head and Luke remains unrelenting.

There are squeals and yelps called out into the misty air between the two of you, and you get to a point you can’t tell what sounds are coming from who, but you manage to wrestle the hose from his grip and point it straight at him as he jets away with a laugh that rumbles straight from his belly.

It’s the kind of laugh that elicits another, and you don’t realise until he’s circling back to you that the laughter is coming from you - giggling, even, as the two of you engage in a water fight like misbehaving children - and it isn’t long until all aggressive thoughts wash away with the suds that slip to the gravel, forgetting why you were even annoyed in the first place.

It shouldn’t be as fun as it is, but after the long day at work, and the tiring walk back, letting your guard down and engaging it a little mindless chaos seems to wake you up a little.

Your childish game gets Luke what he wanted, anyway, the two of you working together to clean his car when you realise he’s only running in front of all the parts that actually need hosing off and relying on you having bad aim to get the job done, and you figure getting your hands a little dirty is harmless when you’re already soaked through and in dire need of a shower.

And your pamper-plans of a bubble bath and self-care don’t entirely come to fruition, but Luke promises to make up for his petulance by ordering pizza and sticking a movie on, so you bite your tongue to refrain from voicing your initial complaints, and decide to just go with the flow, for once - he hasn’t exactly led you astray, yet.

You take a little longer in the shower than normal, with no one around to complain about hogging the bathroom or worry about them barging in unannounced, and you suppose that’s a small victory - one little luxury you get to cling to as you bask in the steam, letting all the tension slip from your aching muscles after being on your feet all day.

And once you’re out, hair dried just enough with a towel that it isn’t going to drip or soak your t-shirt, and you’re dressed in your pyjamas, you make your way downstairs, where Luke has already set up a plethora of snacks in the living room.

Nachos, popcorn, candy and drinks scattered across the coffee table as he relaxes on the couch, hair extra curly after his shower and an old Michigan t-shirt stretched tight across his now much-broader chest.

“Thought I’d wait for you to pick a movie,” he chimes up from where he’s sat, gesturing with a lazy point to the wall of blu-rays beside the TV.

“Did Netflix never make it to the Hughes household?” You scoff in disbelief as you take them all in properly for the first time. You’d seen them in your peripheral when you’d been hanging out down here, before, but actually looking at them up close, reading all the titles, seeing the sheer volume of how many there are, it kind of surprises you.

“We can look on Netflix if you want. They always take stuff off, though.”

You know. All your favourite movies get taken off of streaming, and you only ever find out about it when you’re really in the mood to watch them. As soon as you realise the wall is alphabetised, you know exactly where to look.

“That’s alright,” you shrug, stepping to the side as you track backwards, through M, L, K and J. “You guys are pretty analogue, I’ve noticed.”

“What do you mean?”

“The board games, the DVDs, the whole no phones around the house thing.”

“No phones around the house is common courtesy,” he chuckles, “But I guess we’re a little weird about the other stuff.”

“It’s pretty cool,” you shrug, spotting the DVD you want and sliding it out to assess the case. “It’s old school. Probably better for the brain. My little brothers can’t really function without an iPad and they’re 5, it’s freaky, like they’re haunted by the capitalist ghost of Steve Jobs or something.”

“I didn’t know you had brothers,” Luke frowns where you almost expect him to laugh, and you spin on your heel to face him. He has this look about him like he should have known that - like the two of you have ever conversed in anything other than sarcastic quips and scrunched up faces, or whatever attempts at flirting have been on his part.

“Technically they’re half brothers,” you shrug, “They live out in Philly with my dad and step mom, I don’t really get to see them much.”

“Didn’t know you were from Philly, either.”

“I’m not, my dad moved out there when him and my mom got divorced.”

It’s not something you really love talking about.

The few times you’ve tried, you’ve been shot down, patronising tones scoffing at how your biggest trauma is the separation of your parents, as if your whole world didn’t crumble down with the demise of their relationship, the demise of life as you knew and very dearly loved it.

“You don’t see him even in the summer?”

“Him and his family are on vacation in Europe for 6 weeks. England, France, Spain, Germany, the boys are into soccer so they’ll be out there until the Euros.”

You don’t miss the way Luke’s face scrunches at how you call them his family, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him to start pitying you, so you throw the DVD case toward him before you can second guess your choice.

Interstellar.

You hope he doesn’t pick up on why it might be one of your favourites. Especially not considering the topic of the conversation at hand. Something about the crippling regret Cooper has for leaving Murph behind plucks harmoniously at some unidentifiable strings deep within you, but you’re hardly about to admit that to Luke, of all people.

“I love this movie,” he smiles, almost surprised, as if he expected you to throw The Notebook his way. Maybe next time - he’d probably love that movie, too, if he gave it a chance.

“Me too. I love space movies.”

“Like Space Jam?” He asks as he pushes himself up, going toward the TV to set up the movie with the DVD in one hand and the remote control in the other.

“No, like movies about Space,” you say, throwing yourself down onto the same couch he just vacated and tucking your feet beneath you to get comfortable. “Although I guess Space Jam would technically fit into that bracket.”

“I didn’t realise that was a genre,” he chuckles.

“Not the scary ones, though, I don’t wanna be freaked out by space.”

“Is that like a thing? You just like any movie set in space?”

“I like anything about space, period. Movies, documentaries, books. Thinking about it makes me feel really insignificant.”

“Insignificant? Is that not a bad thing?” He asks as he makes his way back, settling into his side and angling his body toward yours.

“Do you ever think about how big the universe is, Hughes? It’s humongous! If I ever feel anxious or panicky I think about just how big it is and how I’m not even a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. If I’m so tiny, how big can my problems actually be?”

“I guess that makes sense,” he seems to mull it over in his head, the thought of him even considering it and not making you feel stupid warms your chest - makes you forget just how much of yourself you’ve shared with him in the last couple of minutes alone, makes you worry less that you’re sharing too much. “I think I might be the opposite, though. Probably the youngest brother in me, I only feel better if I feel bigger.”

You think that might be why he’s always trying to one up you - sassy comments and inappropriate jokes galore. Not that you mind any of it, not really.

“What about you? What movies do you like?”

“You’re gonna be so shocked.”

“Sports movies?”

“Look at you, knowing me like the back of your hand.” He coos, nudging at your knee with his hand. “I’ll watch anything, though. We should take it in turns, whenever it’s just us,” he says like the thought of spending time alone with you has only just crossed his mind. “Picking a movie to show each other.”

You think there’s a lot of yourself in the media you consume. The movies you watch, the music you listen to, and sharing those things with Luke feels like giving him the only other key to a high security vault. It’s something you’ve avoided so far - letting him play his songs in the car, avoiding making any sort of pick in the group movie nights. It’s daunting, and it’s a lot of pressure, and so you don’t know why you agree with so much ease - a shrug, and a casual muttering of, “Sure, why not?”

The pieces of your dynamic slowly start to slot together, and you start to realise why you’ve been entertaining his company so often, lately. Why your mood so quickly de-escalated itself, earlier. Why you’ve found yourself curled up on the same couch as him, instead of literally anywhere else in the house, doing anything other than this. Why you’re so quick to agree to letting him access all these unseen parts of you.

And why you think he might be able to read your mind, after he asks, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Only if I get to ask one back.”

“What were you gonna do tonight, if you were on your own?”

Thank God, you think, your heart jumping at the thought of anything else he could have asked.

“I was gonna do a sheet mask and steal the bottle of wine Quinn stashed behind the laundry detergent.” You admit with a nonchalant shrug, the plans you had been looking forward to all day seeming mundane in comparison to this. “Why’d you stay behind? You love Zach Bryan.”

“I love sheet masks and stolen wine, too.”

Your lips curve up before you get the chance to huff at his non-answer, and you feel your throat go a little dry at the way his curve, too - the way his green eyes darken when they meet yours, and you feel like he’s looking straight through you.

It’s around half way through the movie that you realise how much you’re enjoying yourself - when you look over at Luke, and the light from the screen is still bouncing off the sticky white sheet plastered to his face, only just able to make out his round eyes through the little slit in the fabric.

You sip at your wine to hide your smile, and turn your attention back to the TV until Luke nudges at your feet with his, and your eyes meet over the tops of your bent knees.

“You tell anyone I did this, I’ll never speak to you again.”

Your laugh ripples through every inch of your upper body, rumbling up from your belly and manifesting itself in shaking shoulders, your smile wide and your sheet mask slipping out of place. “You can’t threaten me with a good time, Hughes.”

You spend the rest of the night trying not to think about how there might just be a tiny door in your heart, eking it’s way open for him to squeeze his gangly limbs into.

>PART TWO<

another a/n: I don't want to put a timeframe on when the next part will be posted bc as soon as I do that, my brain will revolt and it won't happen, but I'd love to know your thoughts in the meantime!!! I have a lot of the rest actually written, and what I don't have written, I have drafted, so it shouldn't be too long but!!! like I said no timeframe!! I've had a lot of fun with this dynamic, and hearing any opinions would mean a lot to me!!

this was my first time writing reader insert if you saw any instances of she/her where they shouldn't be, no you didn’t. I tried as best as I could to avoid using Y/N because it takes me out of it I don’t even remember if I put it anywhere but sometimes it's hard to get around I did my best ok!!!

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes fluff #my hearts going pitter patter pitter patter like I could throw up #need to post this before I fall asleep lmao #*writing

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kathegoose · 10 months ago

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update on my sister joining mimic nation:

look who she put 3rd on S tier, mimic gang.... today is a good day for mimic nation as the lousy 9 year old steps foot on mimic territory /j

silly mimics i brainwash my sister with👍 (she will join the mimic nation in NO time!!! maybe.)

#but really i'm happy that she's getting over her fears!!! go sister go!!!#yes i infected her with endo enjoyer disease. i just really really love them okay #fnaf #reblog #shoutout to my little sister #<- new sister tag i think #she made cool foxy fanart again too..TWICE

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punkrockmlchael · 1 month ago

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The Girl Next Door

Masterlist

Gareth Emerson x Fem Henderson!Reader

Modern AU; Best Friends to Lovers (Both Gareth and Reader are 18+)

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Best Friend Reader!, Underaged Drinking, Smut with Plot (kinda, mostly smut), Very whiney and needy Gareth, Reader has Nipple Piercings!, Very Submissive Gareth, Gareth has a Praise Kink, Accidental Confession, Smut: Making Out and Getting Handsy, Gareth makes a mess in his pants, Nipple Play, Riding Gareth, PinV, afab reader

Request: anon: I was wondering if you could write fluffy/smut with Gareth, maybe best friend to lovers. The reader is Dustin's older sister and he knows his sister’s crush, and Dustin makes it his personal mission to get The reader and Gareth together. hi! Thanks for the request! I love me some Gareth, especially best friends to lovers and this was my first time writing for a Henderson! reader so I hope you enjoy :) for some reason this turned into whiney and needy Gareth bc I craved that and like ugh, I love this man ++ huge shoutout to @keeryhours for letting me yap my way through this with you!

Synopsis: Growing up next door to the Emerson's house was cool. Pool parties in their fancy in-ground pool anytime you wanted, playing video games in their basement anytime you wanted, knocking on Gareth's window anytime you wanted (and in return, he definitely knocked on your window). It was so cool, until you developed a crush on Gareth... You swear you've kept this crush to yourself so well, but your little brother, Dustin, noticed the looks you gave his older Hellfire mentor and neighbor. Dustin thinks it's cute; he's a total sap for love and romance and he definitely wants you and Gareth to be together.

Word Count: 4.1k

gareth: hey! you’re going to the hellfire party tonight, right?

you: gareth, it’s literally at my house

gareth: oh, duh. idk, maybe you had plans?

you: no, dustin would freak out if i didn’t show up to his little party. plus you guys are like, my only friends? lol, where else would i be on a friday night?

gareth: damn, well, need any help? i can come over early and help ya!

you: actually, yeah, we might. if you want. you free in 10 minutes?

gareth: be there asap!!

you: perfect, thanks! front door is unlocked

gareth: as if i don’t know where the spare key is, a fake rock is pretty obvious

You rolled your eyes at his response, smiling to yourself. Yeah, a fake rock was pretty obvious, but also not your choice. You had your mom to thank for that one.

You slid your phone in your jeans back pocket and straightened out your low-cut crop top before heading towards the kitchen. Once you arrived down the stairs, you saw your brother, Dustin, moving around the kitchen with his friend Mike.

"Are you sure your mom is okay with us like... actually drinking tonight?" Mike asked, organizing the various amounts of liquor and beer that Eddie had dropped off on the counter.

"Mike, my mom literally doesn't care. She's not like your mom," Dustin replied, placing out some snacks. "Besides, my sister will be here, and Eddie, and so many more seniors that will be responsible."

"Responsible?" You asked, walking towards the kitchen island. You took a seat and smiled at your brother and his friend. "You really think we're responsible?"

Mike looked up at you and blinked a few times, staring at your cleavage in the low-cut crop top. Dustin looked over at him and hit his arm, shaking his head. "Dude, that's my sister!" Dustin redirected his attention to you, raising an eyebrow gently. "Gareth coming tonight?" He asked, a suggestive tone in his voice.

"Yeah, he'll be here soon, why do you ask?" You replied, looking at Dustin with a confused look. "I mean, it's a Hellfire party, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah it is a Hellfire party. I just wasn't sure if he was stopping by," Dustin replied, a small smirk on his face as he turned back to what he was doing.

You gave him a look before responding, trying to read his look and understand what he was saying. "It's funny you ask that," you said, resting your arms on the counter and leaning over it a bit. "He just texted me and asked if I was coming to this party, as if it's not at my house."

"We both know Gareth isn't the sharpest tool in the drawer," Dustin replied, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet to put the chips in it.

"Hey, be nice," you warned, watching as he moved around the kitchen.

"Be nice?" Mike asked, looking back at you, seriously struggling to look at your face. "It's Gareth."

You gave Mike the same stern look you had given your brother moments before. He looked at you before he looked back at Dustin, cowering a little. "Dude, how is she so scary and hot?" Mike whispered to Dustin, looking back at you as he whispered.

"Dude, she's still my sister," Dustin groaned, shaking his head.

You raised an eyebrow, watching Dustin and Mike before you heard the front door open. You turned in your chair and smiled as Gareth walked into the kitchen, smiling at you.

"Hey," Gareth smiled, moving to stand next to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and looked up at Dustin and Mike, smiling at them both. "Mike, Dustin. Do you guys need any help?" He asked, stepping closer to you, his hand rubbing against the exposed skin of your shoulder gently.

"Hey, Gareth," Mike said, looking at you and Gareth.

Dustin also looked up at you and Gareth, immediately noticing his hand placement. And the fact that you leaned into Gareth's touch instinctively and immediately. He redirected his attention to Gareth and shook his head, that same small smirk still on his face.

"No, I think we're good," Dustin nodded, placing the bowl of chips on the counter in front of you. "Besides, I think the others should be here soon," he added, placing out some more snacks.

"Hm, okay, if you say so," Gareth hummed, grabbing a chip from the bowl to munch on with his free hand. He popped it in his mouth and looked at you, smiling softly. "You want a drink?" He asked, looking back at the counter full of beer, liquor and mixers. "Because I need one," he said, walking towards the counter where Mike stood.

"Already?" You giggled, watching him move toward the alcohol. "You just got here," you added, standing up and walking towards him.

"Yeah, well, lucky for me I can just stumble next door tonight when I leave," he shrugged, grabbing a red solo cup before he poured in some coconut flavored rum. He topped it off with some Dr. Pepper and looked at you, smiling as you appeared next to him. "And, you know Eddie will be wasted tonight, we might as well join him." He teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You made a face, looking at his cup. "I'm sorry," you said, grabbing your own red solo cup, "did you really just mix coconut rum and Dr. Pepper?" You asked, pouring some vodka into your cup. You topped it off with some Coke, stirring it up gently before you took a sip of it, making a face at the taste of alcohol.

"Says the girl that just mixed vodka with Coke," he rolled his eyes, bumping his shoulder into yours.

"It's a classic," you argued, rolling your eyes right back at him.

"A classic my ass," he replied, walking towards the living room. You shook your head and followed him, leaving Dustin and Mike alone in the kitchen again.

"What, uh, what was that?" Miked asked, looking towards the living room before looking back at Dustin.

Dustin smirked and shrugged, grabbing himself a can of beer. "That," he said, opening the beer before he took a sip, "is what our goal is tonight. Getting the two of them together," he nodded, looking back at Mike as he sipped the beer.

"Huh?!" Mike asked, looking at Dustin with wide eyes. "Why?"

"Because, it's my mission."

"Come on," Dustin giggled, looking at you from across the room as he nursed the second beer he was drinking for the night. "Truth or dare?" He asked, leaning closer to you.

You shook your head, sitting on the arm of the chair Gareth was sitting on. Gareth's arm was around your waist protectively, ensuring that you didn't fall off in any way. "Dustin," you said, looking at him. "I don't want to play."

"Hey now, come on, girl Henderson," Eddie piped in, leaning towards you like your brother did. "Answer baby Henderson's question."

"Yeah, girl, we all did it." Jeff added, giggling a little as he was feeling the alcohol. You looked at Jeff and Eddie and raised your eyebrow, turning your attention back to your brother.

What harm could he do?

"Fine," you sighed, taking another sip from your drink. "Dare."

"Perfect," Dustin nodded, looking between you and Gareth. "I dare you to play 7 minutes in heaven with Gareth!"

You choked on your drink, looking up at Dustin. He wore a cheeky smirk back. Eddie and Jeff broke out into a chorus of oooh's and Mike stared at Dustin like he was crazy. You looked at Gareth, his face bright red as he looked at Dustin.

"Dustin, what, no! That's... that's crazy!" You said, shaking your head.

"You totally have to do it!" Eddie said as he gave Dustin a high five.

"You can't back down from a dare!" Jeff replied, nodding along with Eddie's words. You looked at the boys with a shocked expression before you looked back at Gareth, his red face looking at you.

"Well, uh, a dare is a dare," Gareth said softly, nodding as he looked up at you. You looked back at him with a shocked face; not because he was agreeing to do this but because he seemed... nervous? “Besides, it’s just kissing,” he added, looking at you.

"Fine, I guess," you mumbled, standing up. You walked towards the stairs and made your way to your room, Gareth following after you quietly.

"Nice job, baby Henderson," Eddie said, watching you and Gareth walked towards your room. "I thought they'd never fuck," he added, looking back at Dustin.

"Dude, I know right?" Dustin replied, taking a small sip of the now warm beer in his hands.

"You don't... you don't think they're actually going to do that... right?" Mike asked cautiously.

"If Gareth can actually make a move, yeah." Jeff nodded.

“Oh, Mike,” Eddie smirked, downing the rest of his beer. “This has been a long time coming.”

You walked towards your room with Gareth trailing after you. You walked inside first, closing the door after Gareth before you locked it.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol in your system, the looks the boys all gave you, or the way Gareth seemed fine with this. But, something definitely gave you the confidence to go through with this.

“Look, we-“ Gareth started, before you stepped towards him, pushing him against the back of the door. You leaned in and kissed him roughly, moving your arms to his biceps, holding onto them for balance.

He groaned into the kiss, his arms moving around your waist as they rested on your ass cheeks gently. He squeezed them a little, swallowing the moan you left in his mouth. You pulled away from the kiss, looking up at him. He looked down at you, sighing as he continued to squeeze your ass.

“Is this okay?” You asked softly. He nodded, breathlessly.

“Yes, fuck, please,” he begged softly, looking at you. “More than okay. Please kiss me again.” He breathed out. “And again, fuck,” he sighed. “God, I just, I need you.”

You sighed, relishing in the way he sounded, begging. For more. For you.

You leaned closer, kissing his lips again. A small whine escaped his lips as his hands moved to your hips, holding you tightly. Your hands moved to his neck, playing with the small curls at the base of his neck.

You tugged on his curls gently as your lips moved against his, his lips parting gently to let out a soft groan. Your tongue darted into his mouth, exploring it as he continued to gasp and groan, pulling your body closer to his.

His now rock hard cock rubbed against your thigh, causing you to groan as you tugged on his curls with a bit more force, another whine escaping his lips.

“Fuck, baby, please,” he whined, grinding his hips against your thigh. “You, ah, you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he closed his eyes, resting his head against the door softly as he continued to grind against your thigh.

“Someone’s eager,” you teased, kissing down his jaw gently to his neck. You trailed kisses down to his neck, biting the skin gently as your dominant hand trailed down his chest and stomach, stopping directly over his hard on. You squeezed it gently, palming him through his pants.

He moaned loudly, bucking his hips towards your hand as you continued to palm him. “Ah, baby,” he breathed, closing his eyes as he continued to move against your palm. “Please,” he was cut off by a moan as you bit down on his neck a little rougher this time. You nibbled and sucked on the skin, creating a small purple mark. “Fuck, yeah, mark me up, make everyone know I’m yours, god. Wanna be yours.” He babbled on softly.

You left a few more marks on his neck, continuing to palm him through his jeans. He moaned more, moving his hips against your hand, craving some sort of release.

“God, fuck,” he whined. “I’m gonna cum, shit,” he warned, looking down at you.

“You’re gonna cum,” you moved your face closer to his, your lips ghosting his, “in your pants? From my hand?” You asked, looking at him.

He bit his lip and nodded, a bit embarrassed. “Yes,” he said shamefully. “I’m gonna cum in my pants from your hand,” he repeated, speeding up his movements against your hand.

He closed the gap between you two and kissed your lips, groaning into the kiss. You squeezed his cock gently, continuing to palm him. He pulled away from the kiss, the back of his head resting against the door as his hip movements turned sloppy.

“Please,” he begged, eyes shut tightly as he continued to grind into your palm. “Please, baby, please let me cum,” he pleaded, looking at you with lust blown eyes. “Please, I-I can’t take it, want to cum, need to cum.”

You looked up at him, taking in his appearance. He looked pathetic. He was pressed up against your bedroom door, fully clothed as he continued to grind against your hand. A whining, moaning, groaning mess as he begged for you to allow him to cum in his pants.

“You’re going to make a mess, Gare,” you said softly, kissing his neck gently.

“Don’t care,” he replied quickly, shaking his head. “Just, ah, just want to cum.”

“Then cum for me,” you whispered, speeding up your hand movements. He whined loudly, hips sputtering as he finally let go, releasing inside his underwear and pants. His hips continued to move against your hand slowly as he rode out his high. “Mm, good boy,” you mumbled.

You left soft kisses up and down his neck, keeping your hand where it was until he was done. He sighed again, leaning his head back against the door before he looked down at you, a bright red color creeping up his neck and to his cheeks.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said softly, looking down at you. He suddenly felt very embarrassed, very self aware and very sticky; it was quite the feeling for him.

“Hm? For?” You asked, kissing his lips softly.

“Please, don’t make me say it again,” he begged, looking at you. “I don’t need the reminder of what I just did.”

You giggled, moving your hands to his face gently. “Didn’t know you were so submissive,” you teased.

“God, you’re hot and I’ve had alcohol,” he sighed, “and now, I don’t think I can go back down there,” he added, looking down at the noticeable wet spot in his jeans.

“So, don’t,” you said, kissing him again. “Let’s have some more fun,” you suggested, looking up at him.

“You don’t… like, you don’t think I’m a loser for this?” He asked, looking down at you.

You shook your head, caressing his face gently. “Should I?” You asked, “because, I actually think it’s really hot and I want nothing more than to have you inside of me right now.” He sighed, leaning in to kiss you again.

“Please, how are you so incredibly hot, smart and sweet?” He mumbled against your lips. “I really should clean up, though.” He said, moving his legs as his pants felt stuck to him.

You giggled a little, leaving a soft kiss on his lips. “You know where my bathroom is,” you replied, motioning towards the bathroom attached to your room. He hummed and nodded, having been in the bathroom multiple times. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before he waddled to the bathroom to clean himself up.

You shook your head and smiled a little, sitting on your bed.

A few moments later, Gareth walked back out of the bathroom and sat on the bed next to you, “god, that was the most I’ve ever had to clean up,” he sighed, looking at you.

“That’s both extremely gross and extremely hot,” you said, moving towards him. “Now, uh, sit down over there, against the headboard. I want to try something.” You looked at him, watching as he obeyed and did as you said.

“What are you, oh, oh I see,” he mumbled as you crawled onto his lap, straddling his waist. You kissed him, repositioning yourself as you did. You rubbed your clothed core against the wet spot that was still on his pants and his breath hitched, his hands finding your hips. “God,” he groaned into the kiss. “You might actually kill me tonight, and if so, I’m dying a happy, happy man.”

“You’re like, incredibly needy,” you teased him as you pulled away from the kiss, sliding your crop top up and off your body. “And, it’s like really fucking hot but I pictured you to be way more dominant when it came to this,” you added, sliding his shirt up and over his head, tossing it off to the side with yours.

“You’ve pictured sex with me?” He asked, his hands moving up to cup and squeeze your breasts through your bra.

You moaned softly, nodding as you rubbed against him again, sighing softly. “Yeah, don’t let it go to your head,” you said, kissing him again. He kissed you back, deepening the kiss as he continued to paw at your breasts, squeezing them harder this time.

“Don’t let it go to my head?” He asked and reached around and undid your bra, “you let me cum in my pants and didn’t make fun of me; if anything, you’re my dream girl.” He said, looking up at you.

You shook your head, sliding your bra off before you threw it on the floor. “If you want I can tell all the boys,” you replied, leaning in for a kiss as your bare chests touched.

He jumped slightly, feeling the cold metal against his skin. He looked down, eyes widening as he ran his fingers across your nipples gently. “Piercings?” He asked, looking up at you as he continued to rub over your nipples and play with the silver metal that sat in them. “You have nipple piercings?” He groaned out, squeezing your boobs again.

You moaned and sighed, biting your lip. “Yeah, so what?” You asked, looking at him.

“So what? So, that’s like so totally hot, my god you are just, fuck,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Just when I think you couldn’t get more perfect you pull out new surprises,” he mumbled, kissing your lips as he continued to squeeze your breasts. “Wait,” he breathed out as he pulled away from the kiss. “Can I kiss them?” He asked, looking down at your breasts.

You bit your lip and nodded, “yeah, of course,” you said softly. “You can do anything you want to me,” you added, letting out a small whine as he kissed down your neck and collarbones, kissing over your breasts. He kissed down your left breast, kissing over your nipple before he stopped and sucked on it gently, his tongue darting around the cool metal in his mouth. He closed his eyes, humming against your skin as he continued to suck and kiss your nipple.

You moaned again, rubbing against him subconsciously as you moved your hand to his hair, tugging on his curls gently. He groaned against you, moving his hips up to meet yours, rubbing against you in sync with you.

“Fuck,” you moaned again, tugging on his hair. “Is your plan to get me to cum in my pants too?” You asked, sighing as you closed your eyes.

He pulled away from your breast with a popping sound, kissing back up your neck and jaw. “No,” he replied, “I’d much rather see you cum on my cock,” he added, kissing your lips. “Please.”

You pulled away from the kiss and stood up, shedding your jeans and panties, now standing completely naked in front of him. He looked at you, groaning as he eyed you up and down, his hand moving down to palm his cock through his jeans. You smirked, watching him as you grabbed a condom from your bedside table.

“If you undress I’ll be able to be on your cock,” you said, watching continue to palm himself. “Unless, of course, you want to cum in your pants again,” you teased.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” He sighed undoing his pants and boxers, kicking them off and onto the floor.

“Probably not, no,” you answered, crawling back to his lap. You opened the condom, reaching down to pump his cock a couple of times before you slid the condom on him. He groaned, his hips bucking as he thrusted into your hand. “Damn, dude, that’s just my hand,” you giggled as you repositioned yourself over him. You held his cock, gliding the tip through your wet folds, causing a louder moan to escape Gareth’s lips.

“Please,” he sighed, looking at you. “Please, need to be inside you, need to feel you around me, need to make you feel good,” he begged, moving his hips up as he tried to move inside of you.

“Well, I guess since you asked so nicely,” you replied, slowly sinking down on him with a gasp. “Fuck, Gare, you’re so big,” you breathed out, lowering yourself onto him completely. You sighed, letting yourself adjust to him as his hands moved to your hips, holding you in place. “God, you’re so big and fuck, you fill me up,” you said softly, leaving a soft kiss on his lips. He whined against your lips, his cock twitching inside of you. “You like that?” You asked, looking at him.

He nodded, closing his eyes as you slowly started moving your hips, “mhm,” he hummed, gripping your hips tighter. “Like being called good, like being praised,” he gasped as you moved more, slowly moving up before you moved back down on him completely.

"Yeah?" You asked, looking at him. He bit his lip and nodded, helping you move up and down on his cock with his hands.

"Yeah.." he sighed, his eyebrows furrowing as he helped you move; his movements going perfectly with yours.

"Well, you're such a good boy," you moaned out, your fingers tangling through his hair as you leaned in. You kissed his lips roughly, his lips moving against yours desperately as he moved his dominant hand down between your bodies. His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles over it as you continued to bounce on his cock. A loud moan escaped your lips, your kisses against his lips getting sloppier. "Fuck, Gare," you whined, moving your hips faster. "I'm gonna cum."

"Mhm," he mumbled, rubbing more circles as he moved his lips back to your nipples. He kissed and sucked again, groaning against your nipple as you clenched around his cock. "Please, cum for me," he mumbled. "Wanna see you cum on my cock, please," he begged.

You moaned again, the feeling all too much as you felt the familiar feeling in your stomach. Gareth's mouth on your nipple, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit and his cock stretching you out... it was all so much; but it felt so good.

You made a couple more movements before you moaned loudly, fingernails digging into Gareth's biceps to hold yourself upright as your orgasm ripped through you. You moaned his name and rode out your high, releasing around his cock. He groaned, looking up at you as he moved his hips up, whining against your nipple.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum," he groaned, the feeling of your nails digging into this skin driving him over the edge.

"Cum for me, fuck, be a good boy," you mumbled, moving your hips a little more. He whined, bucking his hips up as he released into the condom, moaning and groaning your name.

"Fuck, baby, god," he groaned, riding out his high. "God, I love you." He mumbled, his head falling back against the headboard. Your head whipped up, looking at him.

"You, what?" You asked, continuing to sit on his cock as you looked at him.

"Hmm?" He asked, looking at you with an exhausted expression. What he had said finally hit him before he looked at you with a red face. "I, uh, I love you." He said softly.

"I love you too," you responded immediately, leaning in for another kiss.

He smiled, kissing you back. "Be mine?" He mumbled against your lips.

"Always," you replied, smiling softly.

"That was more than 7 minutes, you know," he teased softly, looking at you as he pushed your hair back behind your ear gently.

"Yeah, whatever," you giggled.

#gareth emerson #gareth #gareth emerson smut #gareth stranger things #stranger things #gareth x fem reader #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson fic #gareth x reader smut #gareth x you #gareth x reader #gareth emerson x you #gareth emerson x reader #gareth x you smut #gareth x best friend!reader #henderson!reader #friends to lovers #punkrockmlchael

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higuchisora · 1 month ago

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As briefly explored in this post, Vi's "enforcer arc" could've gone plenty of different ways- including not at all. This actually gave me another idea, though it kind of takes some fiddling and setup.

Basing a bit of this idea once more off of @srslylini proposing the possibility of Vi becoming some kind of important figure in Zaun, I think it'd be interesting to see Vi becoming something Piltover sees as an "enforcer", but for Zaun instead. This is somewhat related to this post, though it doesn't necessarily have to be to work.

Basically, if Zaun is trying to become independent, just demanding it isn't going to work, as seen in the entirety of the show. They'd need some serious stuff up their sleeves.

Obviously they have Jinx, and even Ekko, but as established in my previous post delving into the revolution-arc-that-wasn't, Jinx really isn't the activist type. And also, strong and smart as she is, there's only one of her. She'd need assistance, even if she DID have a change of heart. (This could lead into Vi and Jinx's slow reconciliation as sisters, as well as tie into season 1's themes about cycles and their fathers and how they can't achieve anything if they don't work together, etc. But I've already discussed this in the previous post.)

In a version of Arcane in which Zaun is politically fractured instead of the relative monolith it gets presented as, Vi, as probably Vander's most recognizable child, might receive some level of (unasked for) political support from people who essentially want a new Vander. Jinx and Ekko (and possibly Sevika) might also have factions of varying sizes as well.

The thing is, they're all being supported for different reasons. Jinx's main followers are seen as "blue haired radicals" (lol) who want war, Sevika's as people who want familiarity/think she can control the Chem-Barons or Jinx, Ekko's as people who're probably tired of fighting and just want peace/are hoping he has better solutions than shimmer and gangs, etc., and Vi, as I said, has people who want another Vander, who want the relative security and quiet of that era back. In other words, they each mean something different to people. And in order to make their reluctant alliance work, they'll each have to embody this "persona"/symbolism to some extent, at least to the public.

So maybe, in line with the perception of her being the "new Vander", the next "Hound of the Underground", Vi (possibly with new gauntlets, courtesy of Jinx - shoutout @blog-i-hate-friday) takes on a "protector" type image for Zaun? Jinx is the rage/spirit of rebellion, Ekko (and his cool ass tree) is the hope, Sevika's the brains that runs their messy operation, and Vi is the defender. To Piltover, they're seen as Zaun's "council". Overdramatized stories of them repaints their stations in ways the Piltovans deem more "palatable" and "civilized", with Vi as their "chief enforcer", as she and her crew are in charge of keeping actual Piltovan enforcers off of Zaun's soil and generally protecting their fellow Zaunites. Jinx spends more time making gadgets than she does blowing stuff up, but the mark she left on Piltover makes the image of the "loose canon" impossible to shake. Ekko is more worried about implementing water filtration systems or running the Firelights- who often patrol with Vi's people- to be "terrorizing" Piltover, but they still think the Firelights were responsible for Progress Day. Perhaps he becomes, in their eyes, something of a cult leader (after all, they call him the Boy Savior, he who inspires so much hope- this must be for a reason, right?). Sevika is nothing like Silco- but it makes it easier for the Piltovans to pretend she is, than to accept that a wine aunt and her team of traumatized barely-adults are running circles around them.

Eventually, in some possible future in which Zaun's demands are finally accepted- that is how Piltover will address them, aligning with their League Champion titles (though they do not have the guts to refer to Jinx as the Loose Canon to her or her allies' faces).

#arcane s2 #vi #this way they get their “enforcer arc” but i get my sanity and decent writing for my wife aka vi #arcane critical #arcane criticism #arcane #ekko #jinx #vi and jinx #sevika #tbh she shouldnt even need to be an enforcer but im spitballing ways to make it happen that i think could be more interesting than canon #arcane s2 spoilers #caitlyn would still probably be executed in this version sorry thems the breaks #someone could probably make a better idea im just tired rn and have a headache and the idea wouldnt leave me alone til i wrote it

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chrysalis-the-butterfly · 4 months ago

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My Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss Shipping Tier List

Hazbin Hotel Ships

Huskerdust - Angel Dust and Husk. My Hellaverse OTP! I've talked about them at length in my Huskerdust analysis post. Long story short: they're not perfect people, but they could be perfect for each other. They've both been through bad times and done bad things, but there's a chance they could change for the better now that they have each other. And that's why I love thinking about them together.

Chaggie - Charlie Morningstar and Vaggie. They're a sweet established couple, and it's cute to see how they'll take any opportunity to hold hands or hug or brush hair off each other's faces. Plus, I'm a sucker for pairings where one person is a grump and the other is a ray of sunshine.

Emilute - Lute and Emily. They're both angels, but very different in looks and personality. One is dark-skinned with pastel clothes and compassion for Sinners; the other is pale-skinned with black clothes and a dedication to eradicating Sinners. Emily would want to help Lute see the light, whereas Lute would try to make Emily cross over to the dark side... @carpp had made some great fanart of the two of them, which made me love the pairing!

Emilette - Emily and Velvette. I started shipping this thanks to @dallina17 and their posts on the pairing. I think it's interesting that Emily and Velvette both have musical moments where they stand up to authority figures (Sera in "You Didn't Know" and Carmilla in "Respectless", respectively), but go about it in different ways (appeals to morality vs. brash rudeness) and with different motives (concern for others vs. self-interest). That's got me thinking about what would happen if the two women ever met. Also, Black sapphic solidarity for the win!

MollyBomb - Molly and Cherri Bomb. I just think it would be funny if Angel's sister and Angel's best friend ended up dating. It's as simple as that!

CherriSnake - Cherri Bomb and Sir Pentious. Their shift from rivals to crushing on each other felt a bit rushed, but I'm intrigued to see where this relationship goes and what impact they might have on each other.

StaticNeedle - Niffty and Vox. I've talked a lot about my headcanon that Niffty and Vox were married in life. It stemmed from realising that they both died in the Fifties, and kind-of spiralled from there. It's probably the rarest rarepair I ship.

StaticMoth - Vox and Valentino. To be honest, I struggle to wholeheartedly ship Valentino with anyone, given his ... everything, but he and Vox would make a fascinating villain couple. One is camp and sexy and does whatever he wants, and the other is a sleek businessman who's obsessed with projecting the perfect image. Opposites attract, I guess?

Seramilla - Sera and Carmilla. Shoutout to @seramilla for getting me interested in this! I can definitely see the appeal of two mother figures on opposite sides of the afterlife finding common ground in their protective nature.

Zestmilla - Carmilla and Zestial. This ship is kind-of "meh" for me, but it is intriguing that Carmilla and Zestial seem so close with each other. I wonder how that happened?

Alzy (platonic) - Mimzy and Alastor. The way Alastor talks to and about Mimzy, and even the way he smiles around her, is different to how he acts around everyone else. The fact that they were friends in life and this friendship has carried over into death is really fascinating to me.

RadioRose (platonic) - Alastor and Rosie. I like how Rosie highlights a different side to Alastor compared to Mimzy, given that Rosie also seems to have a scheming nature. She's like a work buddy to Alastor, except they have a shared interest in eating people.

Lucilith - Lucifer Morningstar and Lilith. I'd like to find out more about their marriage and what caused it to fall apart.

Baximi - Crymini and Baxter. Neither have appeared in the show (yet), but a furry character and a fishy character falling in love has a cool star-crossed-lovers vibe to me.

Helluva Boss Ships

Owling at the Moon (platonic) - Loona and Octavia. Sarcastic Chorus made a really interesting video about how they differ and what they have in common. They're from opposite sides of the track, but both have daddy issues (to put it mildly), so they both could use a friend who understands.

Fizzmodeus - Fizzarolli and Asmodeus. I think the fact that I already love Roger and Jessica Rabbit made me more willing to accept another pairing with a clown and a sex symbol!

M&M - Moxxie Knolastname and Millie. I'm a sucker for married couples who don't completely hate each other.

Sallie Mayday - Verosika Mayday and Sallie May. One is a celebrity, the other is a country girl. It's another opposites-attract concept that I enjoy.

Marberry - Mrs Mayberry and Martha. This feels like "enemies to lovers" taken to the extreme, but hey, I'm here for it!

Stolitz - Blitzø and Stolas. I'm not sure how I feel about them as a couple, but I do enjoy reading and watching other people's analyses of the ship and of each person's shortcomings.

Colleenie - Collin and Keenie. They're both angelic sheep who seem like they're meant to be parallels to Moxxie and Millie, which intrigues me. If only Keenie treated Collin better...

Characters I Don't Really Ship with Anyone

Hazbin Hotel: Adam, St Peter, Odette Carmine, Clara Carmine, Arackniss, Travis, Katie Killjoy, Tom Trench, the Egg Boiz, Fat Nuggets, KeeKee, Razzle, Dazzle

Helluva Boss: Cletus, Deerie, Stella, Andrealphus, Paimon, Joe, Lin, Cash Buckzo, Barbie Wire, Mrs Knolastname, Crimson Knolastname, Striker, Chazwick Thurman, Beelzebub, Vortex, Mammon, Robo-Fizz, Glitz, Glam, Arick "Burnie" Burnz, Wally Wackford, Loopty Goopty, Lyle Lipton, Agent Two, Agent One, Ralphie, Counselor Jimmy

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the-boy-who-drank-the-stars · 6 months ago

Text

what if i told you heaven's not a place but a feeling?

Am I post blocked? -> Not yet bitches ^^

long intro below the cut

07/15/24 update: name + pronoun change :3

click here for follower event or search up # 100 stars join the sky

Finn/Quinn/Jess • he/she • audhd + madd + bpd • genderfluid + bisexual + polyamorous • minor • chronically confused I don't really care what names or pronouns you use, just mix it up please Nicknames include but aren't limited to: finnie boy, finnterest, shark finn, star, finn the human boy, finndus the crow king, finnie, finnalicious, finjestinn, jesserescogot, jessie, quintonton, quintum physics, and quinnie. (feel free to add more)

current hyperfixation: dead gay wizards spam sideblog: @hewhoswallowedthemoon i like to write, read, draw, and design things

gryffindor + cabin 11 + intp

fandoms:

harry potter

marauders

grishaverse

riordanverse

marvel

outer banks

hunger games

maze runner

wednesday

high class homos

don't

dm me (unless we're mutuals or you have express permission)

dm me constantly

be hateful/rude on my posts

use passive aggressive tones/remarks

interact with my posts

talk to me via asks, reblogs, or comments

use tonetags (mostly during jokes)

send me asks for ask games

anything but the don'ts, really

dni

homophobes

transphobes

ableists

sexists (especially misandrists)

racists

zionists

pedophiles

zoophiles

anyone else who supports hateful/immoral things

tagging system:

# the stars answer the call <- i answer asks

# the stars are rambling <- i shitpost

# the stars fade away <- i log off

# the stars aren't so bright tonight <- i vent post

# the stars find one of their own <- ask game

# the stars are musing <- random thoughts of mine

# the stars are writing <- my writing

mutuals

love you all to bits and pieces but i'll just tag a few

@darrencrissishotasfuck <- my wife, lovely person <3

@themortalityofundyingstars <- my dad, favorite person on here

@aesthetic-writer18 <- my soon to be wife, james to my sirius

@murderous-butterfly <- my favorite dove here <3

@vivusmortuusexcrucior <- awesomesauce loser <33

@rheas-chaos-motivation <- shakespearan rival who has yet to sue me in court

@moon-sun-star-rat <- my favorite beta and lowkey aspire to be him

@tequilaqueen <- getting secretly unhinged older sister vibes from her

@picklerab23 <- not active rn but still a huge sweetheart <33

@jamespotterbbg <- I LIVE FOR HER MICROFICS

@prongspie <- feral dog vibes but he's cool

@ang3lic-t3ars <- supplies me with the foffers, pretty awesome sauce for that

@definitionoffuckup <- bro is ridiculously nice

@justaboymadeofhoneyandglass <- GAY (also cool)

@totalcharliespringsimp <- fellow richie tozier AND kit connor simp (he got me frfr)

sorry if i didnt tag you, you can ask to be added if you want

shoutout to my 3 lame ass siblings

luis (i forgot how to spell his name)

jarp who is Gender Personified

francis

moodboards

made by @gildy-locks

made by @aesthetic-writer18

made by @strawberryapologist

made by @cheekyboybeth

made by @moon-sun-star-rat

made by @jamespotterbbg

made by @wistfulenchantress

made by @stars-on-my-bedroom-ceiling

drawings of me

made by @definitionoffuckup

#finn's pinned #finn's intro #intro post #intro #blog intro #quinn's pinned #jess's pinned

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gamerbearmira · 6 months ago

Note

(I forgot about Winx AU)

The grandkids were looking around awed and curious as they were ushered into their seats with the teachers during the Day of Royals.

"Remember. Always stay with an adult you know. If you need or want to do anything just tell one of us." Faragonda was assuring her grandkids and she noticed Saladin was staring at them.

"These must be the mysterious and beloved grandkids I've heard about." Saladin said grinning at them and they all looked at him.

"Wow you're older than granny!" Camilo said and was promptly elbowed by his older sister while Isabella and Mirabel snickered.

"Actually. I'm the same age as her and Griffin and Griselda." Saladin said smiling and amused, he missed blunt children.

"Tia Griselda?" Dolores squeaked surprised at that.

"I was Faragondas roommate in school." Griselda admitted amused.

"But you look younger than mama!" Mirabel gaped at the woman who smirked and patted the girls head.

"Right well...are you looking forward to the events?" Faragonda asked as Griffin tried to smother her laughter while Griselda radiated smugness.

"I wanna see the dragons!" The children were near cheering in unison at that, their little faces alight with eager glee.

"Not the sword fights?" Palladium asked from in front of them.

"Who wants to watch a bunch of dumb boys hit each other with sharp sticks?" Isabella asked confused and Saladin choked at how she described it.

"She's got a point." Griffin grinned at that and Faragonda sighed.

"Stop trying to corrupt and steal my grandkids!"

"Never!"

So did I 🌚 TIME TO RUN IT BACK‼️‼️

The kids being excited about the dragons though is so real. Shoutout to all the teachers/headmasters being cool with the kids. I mean they don’t really have much of a choice but like it’s the thought that counts 💀💀

But like who would wanna watch sword fighting. It gets boring if it drags on, at least with fencing it’s pretty quick. Unless that swording fighting is to the death, you best believe them kids is going to see dragons instead, given the opportunity 🙏

#my asks #my asks are open #encanto #encanto au #au #encanto mirabel #encanto isabela #encanto dolores #encanto luisa #encanto camilo #winx #winx au #winx faragonda #winx griselda #winx griffin #winx saladin

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tanoraqui · 7 months ago

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Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Mermaids, Kraken, Namari Hours!! & Frogs!

the corpse retrievers' scumminess is clearer in the manga. Kabru's party wasn't even fully dead, just unconscious and paralyzed (@Laios & co did you not notice this? Marcille especially, who laid them out?) but the retrievers still claim a full revival fee, instead of some sort of discount. (I do think they deserve some fee, bc "unconscious and paralyzed" is a great way to BECOME dead in a dungeon.)

Ooh, sorry my mistake: They knock a whole 100gp off the 3,600 revival fee, for the party! Sooo generous.

Ooh the fishmen are deliberately waiting by the mermaids so they can ambush adventurers who plug their ears, making them immune to mermaid song but vulnerable to sneak attack! *furiously jotting down notes for my own D&D games*

He's so happy! This man doesn't need a kingdom; he needs his sister and a significant yearly grant to support his continuous research into the anatomy, behavior, and edibility of monsters.

When Marcille's school flashback starts, "Dear Old Shiz" from Wicked starts playing in my head.

Ok the Marcille vs Undine fight was DEFINITELY cooler in the show, when there was, y'know, movement and color and soundtrack.

Fuck yeah, Namari hours! Look at her, she's so cool. She could kick my ass. She could kick anyone's ass.

I like this so much because if Namari is accustomed to being found annoying when she lectures about weapons, that suggests to me that she and Laios have at least once passed a happy amount of time trading infodumps about weapons and monsters respectively, both sitting there thinking, This person is kinda weird but they're giving me useful dungeon-delving advice and trying to help. This is friendship!

Laios: Really, shoutout to Namari for being so good with a crossbow! One-hit kill, wow!

Namari: Actually, that's the first time I've ever used one.

Laois: [Oh My God I Could Have Died.]

I really like how Chilchuck and Laios are very similar in tendency and ability to observe a situation, piece together elements of it and find an answer or solution. We've been having some good Chilchuck time recently - I'm on the frogs now, when he figures out how to use the traps to stop them, and before there was him putting together about eggs in the fish people's hair. He's clever! And it reminds me of Laios figuring out monsters' weaknesses on the fly in battle, as seen with the living armor!

I really miss color in this section, too, though. The vines and frogs were so vivid.

Chilchuck is a guy who would complain that all mosquitos should be exterminated worldwide because they annoy him personally, and I love him for that. (Senshi and Laios would, of course, immediately explain how mosquitos are actually a key species in many ecosystems...)

[gestures emotionally] they're a TEAM! They lean on each others' skills in combat, including Laios's weirdo encyclopedic knowledge of monster traits

I need either these combined or just the first panel as a meme template, I really do.

She was absolutely persuaded not by his argument, but by how hard he was trying to make it. Also, she wasn't persuaded by that either; the second panel is just Marcille mentally chanting, "For Falin. For Falin. For Falin..."

IT'S JUST SO FUNNY. My favorite is Chilchuck in the scraps, but there's Senshi's complete roundness and beard that cannot be beardtained in any bearntainer... Laios's frog-eyes making him look weirdly like a bear... Marcille's ears... Impeccable, all of it. This is the photo I would put on their party fantasy!Christmas card, without a doubt.

#dm lb #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon

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cloverstellar · 2 months ago

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arcane spoilers n my thoughts

first off. viktor’s healing scene was so so everything. the way his eyes are so vibrant with color and are focused, full of intent and passion.. and yet somehow still disturbingly vacant when he stared at the shimmer addict was ohhhhh that was gorgeous. The use of value when the light shined down when they all knelt among the washed out tents near the ruins was MAGNIFICENT and I can’t wait to see more of this viktor-kinda-not-viktor in later episodes. I’m assuming his schtick is probably like an almost-possession type thing the hexcore did to him is also affecting his mental state, obvious in the way he disregarded Jayce and simply talked different. His pattern of speech was messed up, which leads to the idea that the hexcore is at least to some degree able to make thought??? and is manipulating his vision and thoughts? Idk just spitballing I’m really fascinated by his story approach

along that line. ANYONE WANNA TALK ABOUT VIKTOR SAYING THE ONLY REASON HE AND JAYCE STAYED TOGETHER WAS THROUGH “…affection”??? HELLO. WHAT WAS THAT. ? affection my ass just say love it’s okay guys promise. Viktor doesn’t even know about Jayce having a panic attack carrying him down to the lab after the explosion. He doesn’t even know

CAITVI NATION WIN. AND LOSS. One kiss and then we lost it all. I found it really interesting the way jinx was the catalyst of their relationship, both in the way her story tied into them finding each other and her being the reason they split in the latest episode. crawls into a ball and starts shaking and mumbling something about extenuating circumstances defining and bringing their morals and ideals to light amidst the chaos and how that looks for Caitlyn and Vi. Idk idk

EKKO my favorite guy ekko oh he looked so cool. Special shoutout to ekko’s character design I just love how he looks always and forever. And the orb thing him jayce and heimerdinger saw that flashed like crazy I was totally expecting for there to be a cut to viktor with it somehow affecting him but no. I was eager and was wrong. anyways ughhhh yeah. The way Jayce touching it affected all the hextech was a really interesting animation look. The glitching and lightning-type things arching off the weapons looked super neat

JINX AND VI’S BIG FIGHT. 0 words I’m speechless that entire fight was gorgeous and heartbreaking AND JINX SAYING SHES GLAD IT WAS VI… oh I felt nauseous like. God. They used to be sisters. The little girl isha protecting jinx and the way she subtlety looks and acts like little powder I wanted to PUKE okay.

ok I might add to this later but I’m tired

#rose asks #arcane #arcane spoilers #arcane season 2

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herejusttosufferalong · 7 months ago

Note

Alright, I know I’m a bit late to the conversation, but I can’t get over the Deuxmoi debacle. Seriously, what on earth is going on? How can anyone think the whole incident was a coincidence or believe the girlfriend was the one who arranged it? It's painfully obvious it was orchestrated. With so many people talking about it—PR anons, is there ANY chance A could have been the one to call the paps? I just don’t see how she’d have access to those resources.

Now, about Luke’s behavior during all this—it’s baffling. If you arranged this, at least try to act like you care about the girl. Walking ahead, refusing to properly hold her hand, come on. The picture that annoys me the most is the one where A is pointing at the car while Luke is in the background signing autographs. It reeks of attention-seeking. Where is his sister? Why is she acting like she’s the one the paps are there for, which technically they are, but still.

I’ve been thinking a lot about why Luke appeared so aloof with his girlfriend. Here’s my theory: have you ever made a decision and, when it comes time to execute it, something in the back of your mind tells you it’s not right? Like your body REFUSES to let you do it??? I think that’s what happened with Luke. He might’ve thought, "How romantic would it be to claim my girl on the premiere day of the show where I’m the lead?" I can see his girlfriend and friends encouraging him. Heck I can even see A and S picking out that dress she wore. I really fucking hope that wasn’t deliberate. Maybe he did this to distract from the debacle with A’s mom, but I also think he genuinely thought it was a good idea. But on the day, he froze. Almost like it hit him why this wasn't a good decision. He couldn’t bring himself to hold her hand. As frustrating as that was, it gave me hope that he knows deep down what his priorities should be and that he’ll work towards them.

Nic is really starting to annoy me. Don’t get me wrong, I still love her and Luke, but she’s getting on my nerves. Her friends say she’s too good for her own good. HARD FUCKING AGREE. Clearly, Luke and his girlfriend don’t care about any of this, so why is Nic even bothering to help? It seems like she’s done with it for now, at least. Luke won’t learn if Nic keeps stepping in. Let him deal with it and figure it out on his own.

And finally, about polaroidgate—Nic knows people are watching. I think she kept it at first without thinking, saw the traction it got in Australia, and decided to keep it longer. Every time people saw it, they went crazy, myself included. I’m not saying she kept the polaroid solely for PR reasons, but I do think she’s holding onto it until the buzz for season 3 dies down. Honestly, I don’t think she cares that much. One day, she’s just going to remove it while on set in her little fairy costume. Can’t wait for it! Sorry, I know this was a bit of a rant but had to get it off my chest.

Just wanted to give a shoutout for this blog. It's really cool to see a place where different perspectives are welcomed and encouraged. The way you keep things balanced makes the discussions way more interesting. Thanks for all the hard work you put in. You really help keep my delulu alive, really appreciate it!

Thank you for sharing your pov of events!

Sorry it took me so long to get to your message

#this is all opinion

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thebabblingbrookenook · 2 years ago

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Wide Open Spaces

Pairings - Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary - Modern AU - Benedict and Reader explore new facets of their longtime childhood friendship.

Warnings - 18+ Please, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content

Word Count - 6.2K

Author’s Note - Huge thank you to @colettebronte for giving this a once over for me before posting. And a major shoutout to @eleanor-bradstreet for writing inspiring fics for me to reference! Soundtrack inspos for this one include: Cinnamon Summer by Jome, and Honeybee by The Head and the Heart

______________________________________________

Disappointment. That was the overwhelming sensation coloring your mood as you looked down at the message on your phone. Your sister had canceled on you again. It had been six months since you last saw her and you were starting to miss her.

This always happened when she got into a new relationship. The constant companion you had known your whole life suddenly transformed into the biggest flake on the planet. You were happy she was happy, but she never saw outside of her little love bubble when there was a new guy.

At times, you could smile and write it off as an endearing quirk, but this time your irritation was a bit harder to quell. The trip you were supposed to be taking together this weekend had been planned for weeks. The excitement of seeing your baby sister and enjoying uninterrupted relaxation was the only thing getting you through the tedious tasks weighing you down at work. You knew this cloud of disappointment was going to linger for a few days.

You thought about telling her how rude she was behaving. You even thought about telling her that you didn’t care if her boyfriend had asked her to meet his parents on the same weekend as your trip. But in the end, what was the point? If she bailed on her boyfriend and came along, her legendary pout would have made the trip unbearable. If she decided to go with him despite your disgruntled plea, you both would have ended up deploying the silent treatment for months and you wouldn’t get to see her until Christmas.

You were in the middle of texting your sad, but supportive reply when you felt a warm hand rub a reassuring circle on your back.

“Let me guess, Caroline canceled at the last minute again?” Benedict’s voice held a defensive tone.

You sighed in resignation, “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“The look on your face. It’s the one you put on when you’re trying to be angry so you don’t have to admit how much something hurt you. And it’s usually only reserved for Caroline.” He said her name like it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Benedict…” you scolded.

He shrugged innocently with a hint of defiance. “What? I resent her for stealing my sunshine. I was getting used to seeing you so happy. It was nice.”

“Hey,” you complained, “I’m a happy person. Most of the time…”

“I love you, darling, but no,” he laughed. “You’re delightfully grumpy and I adore you for it. You do things with depth. Depth makes it hard to be blindly happy. I wouldn’t have you any other way. It was just nice seeing you smile freely.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. He had been your best friend for your entire life. If anyone really knew you, it was Benedict. Why were you just now realizing that he viewed you this way? From your perspective, he was the only person that set you at ease. Laughter came easy when he was around. Parts of your personality came alive with Benedict because he was the only one who had earned those parts of you. Having him associate you with such a sense of bleakness didn’t sit right with you. Had he not noticed you allowing him in past your walls, or did your underlying melancholy overshadow the peace he brought into your life? You didn’t know whether to feel betrayal or guilt. Guilt if you hadn’t made it clear how much joy he brought, or betrayal for not being seen by the only person you thought capable.

You stared at the rapidly cooling cup of tea that you clutched in your hand. Anything to keep you from meeting his gaze. You didn’t know if you were ready to face what you might find reflected back in his stormy eyes. It might unravel you, and the courtyard of the college campus where you worked was not a place you were comfortable with that transpiring. You needed to go home.

Standing abruptly, you started to gather your things. If it weren’t for the almost comical look of panic transforming his face, you would have made a quick but silent exit. You were never able to stomach the way negative emotions haunted his features. They didn’t belong there, not coinciding with his light.

“I’ll see you later, Ben. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. It’s happened before and it will happen again. That’s Caroline. I’m just going to go home and have a quiet weekend alone. I have a lot of manuscripts I need to catch up on for Professor Maxwell anyway. He said he would consider one of my choices to present to the publishers as the featured up-and-coming author this month. I want to make sure I’m ready.”

He didn’t seem entirely convinced by your casual tone, but he didn’t push the issue. “Alright then… but call me if you get lonely. I don’t want you cooped up all weekend having fake arguments with Caroline in your head. You get scary when you sit with your anger too long.”

“See you later, Bridgerton,” you replied with an amused grin.

Sometimes it was annoying how well he knew you, but somehow his teasing prediction already made you feel less alone.

~~~~~~~~~~

You woke the next morning to the sound of your doorbell repeatedly beckoning you from sleep. Immediately regretting last night’s over indulgence of red wine, you rolled over to check the ring camera on your phone. It didn’t surprise you in the slightest to find Benedict standing on your porch looking far too chipper at this ungodly hour.

Clicking the microphone, you spoke through the camera so he could hear you. “Go away. Trespassers will be prosecuted.”

His grin was blinding. “Oh come on, you lazy git. Get your bum out of bed and let me in.”

“Ugghhh,” you groaned. He was impossible.

Reluctantly, you dragged yourself from the warmth of your bed and shuffled to the front door. You hadn’t given a second thought to your appearance until Benedict’s eyes took in your state.

“Ooof,” he mocked. “Good morning, Sunshine.”

You must have looked a picture as you stood there scowling at him in your pjs. “Pardon me, I wasn’t expecting uninvited company. You really are a nuisance, Ben.”

“Yeah, but I’m a lovable nuisance. You wouldn’t have let me in if I wasn’t.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned around walking back into the house, leaving him to follow you. You were going to need coffee if you wanted to get on his level anytime soon. You heard the door latch behind him as he trailed you to the kitchen.

“So…” he asked hesitantly. “What are your plans for the day?”

You looked up at him skeptically from below the ring of your coffee mug. “I already told you my plans. There are words to be read and wine to be drunk.”

“Can you read your words and drink your wine someplace else?” He could feel you retreating into your silence so he pushed on. “Listen, I know I’m not Caroline. I don’t have anything particularly exciting to offer in comparison to a sisters’ weekend, but I would very much like to spend the day with you. I need to practice a new brush technique for a class I’m teaching. You can read, I can paint… We’ll be alone, but together. Who was it that said it would be inexcusably selfish to be lonely alone?”

You knew he was baiting you with your love of words, but damn him if it wasn’t working. “Tennessee Williams. But if you recall, the first half of that quote depicts lonely people joining forces. I don’t think he was speaking of a pity invitation from a Casanova to his pathetic, sad friend.”

“That’s not what this is,” he chastised. “I’m allowed to be lonely too.”

“Oh, please, Ben.” You dismissed him prematurely. “You’re never alone. There is always someone throwing themselves at your feet.”

“I didn’t say I was alone. I said I was lonely…” The haunted look had returned to contort his beautiful face.

The undeniable need to vanquish anything that creased his brow pulled you toward him. Reaching out for him, you stopped yourself from wrapping your arms around his torso, instead choosing something safer. You squeezed reassuringly around his forearm that rested on the counter.

“I’ll go get dressed,” you said softly. “Wait for me?”

His eyes left your fingers splayed across his arm and searched your face. The amount of relief flooding the rings of blue made your stomach ache.

“I’ll wait as long as you need…” he promised.

~~~~~~~~~~

Like with most things, he was right about his company bringing you back into balance. It was easy to be around him. He was comfortable in your silence, and you in his. There was no need for incessant chit chat. It was enough to simply just be. No pressure. No performance. No need to be guarded. The sounds of his brush strokes against the canvas soothed you as you flipped from page to page in your book.

It had turned out to be the perfect day for outdoor endeavors. There wasn’t a rain cloud in sight, and the sun was almost as warm as Benedict’s presence. He had taken you to a remote clearing he stumbled across during one of his many reflective walks. The open field was surrounded by dense woods, sequestering you in your own private world. The nearby stream provided the perfect soundtrack to drown out all the unwanted noise of life.

He had packed a blanket for you to sprawl out on while he labored over his easel. Per usual, he had thought of everything. There was even a basket filled with your favorite snacks. You would both be content for hours. Responsible for nothing. Accountable to no one. He had gifted you peace.

The sun poured out its affection lavishly over your skin, and you soaked in its embrace. The dress you wore hung loosely from the straps that tied at your shoulders, and the lightweight cotton fabric kissed your skin delicately, providing an unabashed sense of freedom. It had been a long time since you had felt this content and you were already craving a return visit.

It had been hours since you had seen another person. Every so often there would be a wayward hiker, but for the better part of the day it was just the two of you. Working side by side, in tandem but apart. You were fully consumed by the current manuscript you were reading. It was the third one of the day, but the first to hold your interest. This was undoubtedly the piece you would submit to your boss for publication.

The author skillfully and eloquently stripped down the world as we know it, and submerged the reader into the unknown. With the trivial things torn away, everything came back to basics. What did a person truly need to survive? What did we look to in order to feel secure? Sure, the tried and true standards still applied - Food. Water. Shelter. But what were those things without hope? Was there even a point?

It was a love story at its core. A devastating one, but a love story nonetheless. It seemed a cruel irony to make it all the way through life only to find love at the end of the world. Love was already a precarious thing, but the stakes were even higher in their world. The person you joined your life with was the person that kept you alive.

There was a perfect balance between danger and sweetness. You had invested fully in the characters. Their joy was your joy, their pain your pain. So when the unthinkable happened, your heart thudded to a stop. A shocked sob escaped your lips, breaking the silence that had settled.

Benedict looked at you in alarm. “What’s happened?”

You shook your head, waving off his worry. You’d almost forgotten he was there. “This author is fantastic. It feels so real.”

His lazy smile spread across his face. “You’ll have to tell me about it once you’re finished.”

Normally you loved telling him about the books you read. He always hung on your words and asked enthusiastic questions. But you weren’t sure you could do that with this one. Her leading man bore a striking resemblance to yours. Even the glances you were stealing of him now were almost unbearable. If there was one person in this world whose loss would bury you, it was Benedict.

Family wasn’t something that you had a surplus of. Your parents had both been gone for years. Caroline was your only sibling and you had drifted apart as you got older. But Benedict had always been there, and you made a family of your own. Each day he started to mean more to you than you were comfortable with. You tried to ignore it, but your heart was persistent and loud.

Your eyes welled with tears as you read the final chapter. Images of Benedict’s face flooded your mind while the author described the fate of her hero in heart wrenching detail. The pit in your stomach was about to swallow you whole. Evidence of your despair leaked from the corners of your eyes and made their way to the corners of your mouth, leaving your lips salty and wet.

You knew it would only deepen the hurt, but you couldn’t resist the pull to look at Benedict. It was only a story but you needed the reminder that he was still here. Like he always was.

You weren’t sure how, but he looked more striking than he had just a moment ago. Maybe your imaginary grief had heightened your awareness of him. Or maybe it snapped your perspective into focus. You were in love with your best friend but you had no clue what to do with that revelation.

You were so lost in your reverie that he startled you when he spoke. “What’s that look about, Sunshine?”

“I’m just remembering you,” you said meekly, averting your eyes.

“Hmph,” he sighed.

Setting down his paintbrush, he came to sit behind you on the blanket. His arm reached around your side and pulled the book from your hands. “Who is this Bradstreet person, and why have they made you cry? It was a happy day. I thought we’d finally chased the grey away.”

A shiver ran deep when you felt the heat from his lips press softly into the naked skin at your shoulder. Steadying yourself, you turned your face into him so you could meet him eye to eye. You weren’t sure what his small, but intimate gesture meant. He had always behaved in this familiar way with you. Touch wasn’t something that he shied away from. It’s how he showed affection. This was just the first time you had ever opened yourself up to the possibility of more.

Your fingers reached up to brush the waves of his dark hair away from his face. The tension left his body at your touch and he melted into you. His eyes closed and he smiled sweetly as he hummed his appreciation. You rarely initiated touch with him like this and you were now realizing what a crime that was.

His lips touched your skin again in a silent thank you. The importance of this moment was finally sinking into your bones. Now was the time to make sure he understood what he meant to your life. You didn’t think you would ever forgive yourself if the world came tumbling down and you left out that he was the only one…

Your eyes lingered on his in a silent exchange before you leaned in to capture his lips with your own. His body stilled for a split second but quickly reanimated, matching your energy with intention. Years of unidentified longing flowed out through your touch and held him close to you.

He broke your kiss to catch a breath.

“Thank God,” he whispered. “I was beginning to worry that you’d never feel it.”

An exhausted amusement washed over you. “You know me… Always taking the long way around.”

His answering laugh was your favorite sound. It was warm and deep. A familiar comfort.

“Well worth the wait,” he declared, tucking your hair behind your ear.

In that moment a switch inside you flipped. Desire for this man had made itself known, sending a pulsing urgency to overtake you like a riptide. The smell of him, so close and invasive, was a provocative elixir calling out to awaken wanton need.

The heat from his toned, lean body radiated from behind you seeping into your spine. Its invitation was impossible to resist, so you let go, giving yourself over completely. His arms welcomed you in and every inch of him conformed to fit you perfectly. Broad shoulders provided a safe place to lay your head as his face dipped to rest in the crook of your neck. His deep breaths coaxed a thrilling shiver from you as he savored the scent of your skin.

You craved him with such intensity that it was painful. Your body, seeking a remedy, pressed deeper into his with a slow, sensual tempo. The blood felt like it was burning through your veins, and every muscle clenched with the anticipation of release.

His body understood your plea and began to guide your movements. The low, humming ache between your thighs had grown into a throbbing demand. This lust was an insatiable beast, only mollified by his touch.

“Benedict…” you begged breathlessly. The feel of his lips sucking your neck into his mouth was driving you to distraction. Your mind fantasized his warm, wet tongue exploring other parts of you.

His kiss never left your skin for more than a moment and his hands had found a new boldness. You could smell dried paint, a scent synonymous with him, as his fingers danced over your shoulder to the tied straps of your dress. When his movements stopped, you looked back at him to find his eyes silently asking your permission to continue. You gave your consent without question.

Nimble fingers made easy work of the bows holding the top of your dress to your body. The soft cotton fell around your waist, exposing your bare, heaving chest to the elements. The warmth of the sun soaked into the sensitive skin of your breasts, and the wind whispered over your nipples, puckering them with pleasure.

Benedict’s stuttered, appreciative breath quickened your heart. His heavy gaze was ravenous as he took in the sight of you. His teeth raked across his bottom lip, attempting restraint.

“Y/n, can I touch you?” he asked. Always the gentleman.

A sudden bout of nerves crept up your throat. This was all so surreal. It was Benedict. Your best friend. Your favorite person on Earth. What if this changed all that? You didn’t want to be without him. You couldn’t.

For a moment, the two of you sat together in limbo. Your mind was trying to logic you out of this, but your heart understood a new truth. It was already too late to go back, to settle for a fraction of what he was offering you now. Your need for him had grown to encompass more than friendship. It would never feel like enough again.

You took his hand in yours and led him to your soft, supple bust. Holding your breath, you waited. For what exactly, you weren’t sure. Maybe you were afraid of his dissatisfaction. The last man you let see you this way was fond of critiquing your body. Exposure was the scariest place to encounter judgment. There was nowhere to hide. The words heard there never leave you.

Disdain started to flicker in your mind. Remembering old words from a person who no longer held significance was pointless. And yet, how could you not remember? He had thought your breasts were too large. “Anything more than a handful was too much.”

You realized now, as Benedict’s warm palms grazed over you, that the problem never resided with you. That other man’s hands were simply inferior. Benedict held you with ease, cupping you securely in his grasp. His strong fingers kneaded gently, feeling your contours and curves. He silenced your insecurities and fueled you with courage. There was no need for pretenses. He already knew it all. Both the embarrassing and the unflattering. He knew, and he stayed. More than that, he knew and wanted you in spite of it all.

Inhibitions dissolved as you leaned into his touch. You were completely lost. Unaware of anything outside of desire.That’s probably why his sudden exclamation startled you.

“Don’t move!” His arm wrapped tightly around your body to cover you.

Panic set in as your mind ran wild over all the possibilities for his warning. The tall grass surrounding you provided a plethora of nightmares.

“Oh God, what?! Is there a snake?” Your skin crawled at the thought of the slithering serpent.

His voice lowered to a whisper in your ear. “There’s someone there,” he replied. “They’re watching us.”

Standing just inside the nearest treeline you spotted a young woman frozen with indecision. She was close enough to make clear eye contact with and her expression was shouting a mortified apology. A professional looking camera dangled freely from the strap around her neck. Her photography excursion wandered into something more than landscapes. Although, you supposed this was still nature at its core.

The two of you remained locked in a silent exchange. You weren’t sure what you saw there that granted you permission, but you felt yourself relax in Benedict’s hold.

“It’s okay,” you calmed him.

You reached up and slowly started to drag his hand down your stomach to the top of the bunched fabric at your waist. All the while never breaking your stare with the onlooking stranger.

Benedict’s breath hitched in your ear and his fingernails scraped across your tummy, releasing a fresh wave of need inside you. “Don’t stop, Ben. I need you.”

His entire hand splayed out over your lower abdomen, pressing you firmly into the insistent bulge throbbing between you. “Mmmm,” he groaned. “You’re an impatient little thing, aren’t you? All needy and squirmy, clutching your thighs together. Fuck, I bet you are soaking for me…”

“You could easily find out,” you challenged.

Reflexively, his fingers twitched with excitement. His voice went dark, forcing you to understand the serious nature of his words.

“Look at me,” he commanded. “Are you certain about this? Tell me clearly.”

You peered up into his face, focusing on only him. If he was nervous, he wasn’t letting on, but it was clear that he needed something more from you than just consent.

“I need to feel you,” you instructed, guiding him firmly where you ached for him. You made sure to stay locked in to his gaze, leaving no room for miscommunication. “She can watch, or she can leave. I don’t fucking care, but I can’t wait. I’m aching, Ben. Make it better.”

The two of you gasped in unison when his long, capable fingers slid between your folds.

“Darling, where are your knickers?” he asked, reveling in the feel of you. His teeth nipped at your jawline. “You’ve been open and exposed all afternoon, barely hidden by this fetching little frock, and I’ve just been a clueless sod playing with my paints.”

His slow, stroking motions stirred the beast inside of you. Your body purred for him, vibrating at a frequency only he could hear. It called for him, telling him exactly where you needed him next. He spread you further, and his middle finger took a scandalously languid dive to tease your pulsing entrance.

Your cunt sought out for him with a fluttering welcome, desperately willing him to push past the threshold. The thought of him sinking into you there had you writhing restlessly in his lap.

His tongue traced the contour of your ear. “Oohhh, yes. You liked that. I can feel it. Do you want more?”

“Mmmhmm,” you could only manage a half lucid whimper in response.

“Open your eyes,” he encouraged. “See how your body has inspired our voyeuristic friend.”

The beautiful stranger had taken a brave step out from under the cover of trees. Her face held a comforting familiarity that somehow made you feel safe. Even as she brought the zoomed lens of the camera to her eye to capture your image, you still felt no shame.

“Would you like to show her what a work of art your body truly is?” Finally, his devilish digit invaded your warmth, causing you to moan out in satisfaction. “That’s my good girl. Arch for her. Show her how gorgeous your skin is while it’s blushed with heat. Such a pretty color.”

You had never truly known what arousal was until that very moment. His velvety baritone in your ear combined with the depths of his reach within you, and the witness of the anonymous onlooker had brought you to a precipice that you were terrified to give way to.

Reading your body like braille, he partnered his ring and middle fingers, stretching you as they curled. His speed quickened as his pressure increased, manipulating your body to obey his commands.

Your hips began to dance with his rough palm, providing a friction on your clit that stole all of the air from your lungs. Oblivion was almost there. Just a couple more inches and you could reach out and touch it.

He could feel the beginnings of your climax start to pull his fingers in deeper to you. “That’s it, love. We’re almost there. Will you give it to me?”

You would have given him anything he asked for as long as he didn’t stop moving. The hand that you didn’t have held in a vice grip between your legs came to your aid, pinching one of your nipples, just on the right side of pain.

His ministrations had delivered you over to the abyss. There were no outside sounds. Nothing to see but white hot pleasure. Nothing to keep you from blissfully floating away into forever. Your only tether was the feel of his heartbeat guiding you home. You listened to its call, slowly bringing your own in time to match his steady rhythm. You were one heart. One mind. One soul.

Color started to seep back into your world. His gentle voice coaxed you back to consciousness. “Breathe. I’m right here. Just breathe.”

The immensity of what you just experienced had dissolved you of all control. A sobbing laughter bubbled up your throat, and you recognized the searing heat of unshed tears behind your eyes. All you knew was gratitude.

You turned slightly in his arms so that you could reach for his face. Your lips burned into his, moving with hunger. Gladly, you opened your mouth to his tongue, allowing him to breathe life back into you. The taste of him washed over your senses, driving a primal instinct somewhere inside of you.

Lifting yourself slightly, you rose to your knees in front of him, gathering the hem of your dress so that it hung forward, leaving you completely exposed to the man behind you.

You reached for the collar of his shirt, yanking him to his knees so that the back of your body melded into the front of him. The feel of his body running along the length of you sent shivers coursing through you from head to toe.

His lips devoured the skin of your neck and his bite sank into the muscle at your shoulder. One strong hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you harshly against his muscular torso.

His growl in your ear had you dripping for him all over again. “I’m going to fuck you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you said breathlessly. “Please, Benedict…”

You reached behind you, and the two of you worked together to pull his jeans away from his body. You didn’t have a chance to see him with your eyes, but you could feel the impressive size of him nuzzled between your cheeks as he ground into you.

You felt bereft when his arms released you, but his lips assured you that he was still there while he kissed his way from the nape of your neck and down your spine to the center of your back. One hand went to your hip to steady you and the other aligned the thick head of his cock with your pussy.

“Ready?” he stilled.

“Now, Benedict. Right now.” You had never sounded so needy in your life.

Inch by satisfying inch, he pushed himself inside you. The stretch was unbelievable. Your body was made to accommodate him. He filled you to the edge of your limits, fitting around him so tightly that you could feel the steady thrum of his pulse thumping against your walls.

“Fuuuuccck… You’re so warm. I love the way you hold onto me like that.” he praised you.

He only gave you a few more seconds to adjust before he started to move. With both hands on your hips, he repeatedly seated you in his lap, withdrawing slowly each time so that his tip caught around the ring at your entrance. When he entered you again, it was hard and deep. The pace was agonizing. Glimpses of the tingles he would bring you started to make themselves known as he introduced his body to every inch of yours.

Your eyes glanced up to find the photographer documenting your pleasure. She had lowered herself to the ground to explore new angles of your debauchery. You wondered if she was affected by the atmosphere. Would she go home and seek a release of her own. Would your heaving chest and Benedict’s feral noises bring her pleasure?

Benedict’s hand came back to wrap around your throat, effectively securing you to him again. The fingers of his other hand ventured below the fabric at your hips and found you swollen and throbbing.

“You like it that she’s watching, don’t you?” he smirked. “I like watching her watch you. If I can’t see your face, I can at least read hers to see how I’m doing.”

“Are my moans not enough? If you need me louder, I need you harder.” you laughed challengingly.

“Holyyyyy… Fuck, that felt food. I can feel you laughing from inside you.” his grip on your throat tightened a bit. “I want to make you laugh like that for the rest of your life.”

All traces of humor were lost now. His hold sealed around you, solidifying his promise of forever. Something inside of him flipped, and he thrust into you like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Deep, husky breaths panted into your ear between dizzying kisses. You started to tremble as every cell in your body responded to his urgent, pleading seduction. Searching for a way to ground yourself, you reached behind you to entwine your fingers in the hair at the base of his skull, tugging forcefully while hanging on for dear life.

“Oooohhhhhhh,” you gasped. “Oh, God! Benedict, yessss. You feel so good. Please. Please!”

“Hang on just a little while longer,” he beseeched. “Wait for me. I need us to come together.”

“Hurry Ben,” you warned. “I can’t… You feel…”

Stringing a sentence together was starting to become impossible. It took every ounce of focus you had to keep yourself from exploding around him. The desperate, punishing tempo of his hips was relentless. The lewd sounds your bodies made as they smacked together grew louder and louder with each powerful thrust.

Daring to glance across the field, you met the gaze of the daring beauty with whom you had shared this incredibly intimate experience. Even from a distance you could see her labored breathing as she lived vicariously through you. Her eyes were spurring you on, chasing the release as much as you were. There was something so erotic about the moment, and you couldn’t look away from her.

The muscles of your core started to contract around Benedict’s cock. If he wanted to come with you, it had to be now.

“Benedict…” you whimpered.

“I know, baby. I know,” he soothed. “It’s okay. If you come, you’ll take me with you.”

The power that he had just put into your hands was weighty. Knowing that you wielded such control over him made you weak for him. It was a paradox you didn’t need to understand, you just knew it to be true.

His hand left your throat to tilt your face into his, foreheads pressed together in intimacy. “Eyes on me,” he ordered. “Don’t look at her. This part of you is mine.”

His dilated pupils were hypnotic. You couldn’t have looked away if you tried. “Come, y/n. Come for me.”

You had never been good at following orders but his voice lulled you into submission. His tone simultaneously made you eager to please, but also undoubtedly sure that he knew what was best in that moment.

His kiss extinguished your scream of ecstasy as he burrowed deeper into your body. His movements had stopped, and you realized that it was you who continued to torturously milk his seed from his body and claim it as your own. The warmth lined your walls as he spasmed inside your cunt.

He lowered the two of you to the blanket, never leaving the safety of his newfound home inside your walls.

“I don’t want to leave you yet,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “Catch your breath. I’ll keep you full. We can drift away.”

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting as the sun beamed down onto your face. It was a warm, cinnamon summer. Rich colors saturated the atmosphere, spreading romantic hues along the horizon. Time seemed to slow, bringing you into stillness. You willed yourself to stay awake, determined to commit every moment of this to memory. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t fight it. His spell was pulling you under, washing over you in a peaceful calm. Wrapped safely in the heat of his embrace, you found rest.

“I love you,”he confessed, voice laced with sleep.

You brought his hand to your lips and kissed his palm. “You’re my favorite thing. The only one, Benedict. The only one…”

Neither of you knew if the woman still stood somewhere on the edge of your reality. It didn’t really matter anymore. It was just the two of you. The way it always had been. The way it was always meant to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

6 Weeks Later

Butterflies danced in your stomach as you waited patiently for Benedict to arrive at your house. He informed you earlier in the day that he had a surprise planned to celebrate your author recommendation being selected for publication. You were hoping it involved one of his signature home cooked meals and the removal of all his clothing.

You heard the keys clinking in the lock as he let himself in, bellowing out your name to alert you to his arrival.

“I’m in the kitchen,” you shouted down the hall.

He was wearing the most devilishly handsome grin as he sauntered into the kitchen carrying an ornately wrapped gift box.

“What’s this,” you asked with thinly veiled excitement.

“Just a little something to mark the occasion,” he replied. “Go ahead, open it.”

His impatience was endearing. He was clearly proud of whatever it was inside this box. You lifted the lid to find four framed black and white photos, all of which contained the memories of the most significant day of your life.

You didn’t know how, but these were the photos taken by the woman in the clearing that day. She was an exceptional talent. The compositions themselves showed a great amount of skill, but the truly impressive part was the emotion she captured.

From the looks of things, she had been in that clearing a lot longer than you had been aware. The first photo was of you and Benedict working side by side in silence. Your nose was buried in your reading, brow furrowed in angst, and Benedict was smiling sweetly, watching you read.

The second photo was stunningly intimate. The two of you sat huddled on the blanket. Your eyes closed with an almost prayerful expression etched on your face, and Benedict with his head bowed, pressing his lips into the bare skin of your shoulder.

The last two were carnal. You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as you took them in.

Benedict’s voice startled you. “I told you your body was a work of art. Look how fucking gorgeous you are in these. Unguarded. Free…”

A lump formed in your throat as you fought the urge to cry. “How did you…?”

“Dumb luck,” he answered. “ I ran into our mystery woman a couple of weeks ago at that new gallery opening you refused to attend with me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t refuse to attend. I had the flu.”

“Same difference,” he smirked. “So, do you like them? She gave me all the negatives too. No one else will ever see these outside the three of us.”

“I love them,” you sniffled. “It’s our first time. Immortalized. They’re perfect. Thank you, Benedict.”

He shook his head and kissed you chastely. “No, thank you.”

“For what,” you queried.

“For loving me back.”

_______________________________________________

Tags - @faye-tale @eleanor-bradstreet @colettebronte @bridgertontess @angels17324 @musicismyoxygen84

#Benedict Bridgerton fanfiction #Benedict Bridgerton and Reader #Benedict Bridgerton and You #Benedict Bridgerton Smut #Bridgerton fanfiction #Benedict Bridgerton x Reader #Benedict Bridgerton x You

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struggling-author · 1 year ago

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Hey what are your avatar otps besides azulaang?

oh umm… I wouldn’t call them OTPs since that is exclusively Azulaang, but my bi Azula headcanon lives in a variety of ships. Azutara, Azuki, Maizula… not Tyzula tbh because that feels like… imbalanced? and not Tophzula because they are menace-besties but not romantic, but with any of the other girls I think it could be great. Azutara has the enemies to lovers from Azulaang but with more spice and less forgiveness, they‘d tear eachother apart first but that makes it even sweeter if they eventually fall in love. Azuki is kind of different because Suki is more rational and holds less of an emotional grudge, it‘d be difficult for Azula to earn her trust but she would not be openly hostile to her unless necessary. I imagine this one could only happen if Azula is already in the middle or post redemption though, because Suki would not put up with any EtL shit. I guess that is exactly why it intrigues me too, I feel Suki would be more willing to give Azula a chance, more than Katara for example, but at the same time it would be impossibly hard to win her trust and I‘d like to see if Zula can manage it. Lastly Maizula, and I prefer this one over Tyzula because I feel Mai is more capable of holding her own against Azula in a relationship. It’s a complicated version of childhood friends to lovers and I‘m kind of here for it. No idea how it would work though lol.

Aside from Azula ships, I think Zutara is pretty cool and works well alongside Azulaang. Kataang is kinda cool in theory too, but I don’t like shipping Aang with anyone except Azula, it feels wrong 🤷‍♂️ The only other Aang ship I can imagine liking is Zukaang, but I don’t talk about it much.

Oh and I have to give a shoutout to Sokkla, I don’t particularly vibe with it but they’re the sister ship to Azulaang and I do see the potential of the two genius strategists, so if Aang didn’t exist I would definitely ship Sokkla instead. Nothing but love to the comrades over there. 🫶🏼

edit: totally forgot this but I actually also love Tylaang aka Ty-Lee and Aang, it just has absolutely no fandom so it’s hard to get the ball rolling. I just feel they would be such a wholesome bubbly cute ship, and I dig the Ty-Lee airbender ancestry theory so she‘d love to learn all about airbender customs and they‘d have so much fun and probably a huge family 😅 anyway I think party of why I ship this is just because I think these two deserve the world and it represents my wish for them to be totally carefree and happy. you can also add Azula and make this a throuple, I think that would work because you have Tyzula as the polar opposites and Aang in the middle to bridge the gap.

speaking of throuples I enjoy the idea of… Azutaraang? (Azula/Katara/Aang) but it is very difficult to make work. The only way I can see it is if Azula and Katara fall in love first because nothing good could come of them fighting over Aang. or maybe I could see like a stranded on a deserted island AU where the three of them have to work together and learn to rely on eachother… idk, difficult but not impossible.

Oh and I love Zuki too (Zuko x Zuki) …damn I guess I do have quite a few non-Azulaang ships. anyway this is essentially a bodyguard AU and it’s actually my favorite Zuko ship (sorry Zutara) not much to say about it cuz I’ve barely engaged with it, but I love the idea and think they would just work really well together. I also can see this as a throuple with Sokka again. I don’t really vibe with Zukka on their own but if you add Suki then I love it, because Suki deserves two good boys and it’s more fun for everyone involved if those two good boys are in love with eachother too.

final edit hopefully: Sokka Azula Aang is good too, for the same reasons listed for Zuko Suki Sokka, I swear that’s it now. goodbye lol.

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marvel-starwarsfangirl · 10 months ago

Text

Ep. 8 "Bad Territory" Review

This episode was honestly the fluff I needed after last week's tense and crazy two parter. There was the usual action and excitement, but I loved the amount of fluff we got. Omega is forever our little ray of sunshine. I feel a bad feeling that it's going to get much darker after this week so I'll take any fluff I can get.

As always, spoilers below

It was really cool to see Fennec again and it makes senes that out of all the bounty hunters, the boys would choose to seek her out. She was originally after Omega, but she's not needlessly cruel like Cad Bane. If Omega's life were truly in danger, I don't think Fennec would want to see her get hurt. Cad Bane wouldn't give a second thought about it. Speaking of the ending, I definitely think she was talking to Ventress or someone like Quinlan. After all, Ventress is a Force-wielder and could be connected to whatever Hemlock is doing.

Overall, I really liked the interactions between her, Hunter, and Wrecker. Their banter was great and the joke about the Batch being straight up broke had me cackling. Like yes, these 5 guys with a kid are clearly enjoying Space Greece or whatever the fandom calls it. They're not gonna be looking for jobs right now. I also enjoyed seeing the boys use their skills like Wrecker's demolitions knowledge again. It's been so, so long since we've seen the boys go on a classic mission. That's not a bad thing either to have an "adventure of the week" style episode. It was cool to see them back in action (you know, non lethally).

The environment looked great, Wrecker and Hunter throwing hands with gators was pretty epic, and the final fight with the other bounty hunter (?) was exciting. I'll admit, the antagonist's design was cool and it allowed from some fun fight choreography.

Shoutout to the Phee cameo btw! Love seeing her as always. I think she'll be back after the Pabu invasion or she'll be back in time for that event to happen. Crosshair not knowing who she or Fennec was though was pretty funny. He's missed so much. (Also, this is the first time we hear him call Echo by his name fun fact).

Of course, Crosshair and Omega were the standouts because their dynamic is just that good. They're finally getting Crosshair's hand addressed! And I'm so glad Hunter stepped up to make sure it got looked at. Hunter loves Crosshair despite the past and he will look out for him. As many of us thought already, Crosshair's tremors are psychosomatic. We don't what happened on Tantiss (aside from some vague details), but whatever it was, it was bad; real bad. Crosshair is afraid of talking about it because it hurts. His reactions to even thinking about it were heartbreaking.

My theory is that Hemlock did something that broke a part of his identity. Maybe the identity erasure almost worked. Maybe he had Crosshair kill someone during a trial session to see if the reconditioning worked. Whatever it was, it traumatized Crosshair (on top of everything else he went through). For Crosshair to move forward, he's going to have to confront his trauma. He'll need to accept what happened to him and learn that it doesn't define who he is now.

Omega is so gentle and patient with him; I absolutely love it. She doesn't push him nor does she just leave him to get trapped in his mind. Instead, she tries to teach him coping mechanisms. The way he trusts her is so good too. Crosshair doesn't know what to do, but here is sister whom he loves. She's never left his side since they were imprisoned together and she was the only one who really advocated for him back in season 1. This girl loves him and he loves her. The scene where she holds his hand because it won't stop trembling genuinely means so much to me. It's such a small gesture that means so much. I really do appreciate that the writers are taking their time to show Crosshair going through the healing process. His hand doesn't get magically fixed because he escaped Tantiss nor because he redeemed himself. He achieved that. Now, he needs to finish the rest of his journey. AZI even mentions that it could be permanent. Real life mental health issues don't disappear in one night nor do they go away permanently. It comes and goes and that's what Crosshair will have to do. He'll have to cope with his trauma and hopefully the tremor will steady over time.

Many have pointed it out, but I would love to see a scene with him and Echo. Echo understands Crosshair's plight as he too was held captive and subjected to horrific experiments. I hope we get a scene between them where Echo comforts him. It would be a nice moment between two characters who often don't interact much.

Aside from that, the animation and music were great as always. That last scene of Cross and Omega meditating while Pabu's sun begins to set is truly gorgeous and it might be my favorite landscape shot of the show. It's also reminiscent of Hunter and Crosshair together on Barton IV. I am truly so happy to see Crosshair finding peace and happiness after so long. I honestly never thought we'd see him like this. But now, we do. (Side note: he looks so much smaller and vulnerable without his backpack or shoulder pads).

Anyways, I could go on and on about Crosshair. But I'll save that for another post. Can't wait for next week and hopefully we'll see Ventress!

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb spoilers #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb wrecker #fennec shand

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torchickentacos · 2 months ago

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PLEASE elaborate on solidad thoughts :o

ABSOLUTELY! 1 AM rambling ahead, coherence may vary.

Solidad is ICONIC. She is the MOMENT. She is AMAZING. She was only in three episodes (save for silent cameos), and yet her impact on the (CS but also general) fandom far outweighs the brevity of her canon appearance. We saw Solidad less than we saw Angie, Lyra, Robert, Morrison, and I think Tyson's Meowth, yet I'm pretty confident in saying that she had a stronger fandom impact than all of them. (Brianna's in that club of 'impact outweighs her appearance', too- for a character of the day, Brianna really cemented herself as a staple CS fanfic problem-causer. She had twenty minutes, a goddamn problem, and a dream, and I support her tbh.)

But back to Sol, I really enjoy that she had such a wide impact with such a small appearance. Not only in the fandom as a recurring character in many people's creative projects, but in canon itself! WIthout her, Drew would have read as a different character in those final episodes. She provides a softer context to him that we rarely get to see.

She exists solely to further Drew's development as a character, but she does a good job of it. I have specific feelings about that, I wish she'd been given more time to be a character in her own right, but she's instrumental to the character arcs that we see in AG, even though she only pushed it forward at the end. I feel the same about Drew, though- he only exists around May. You cannot talk about Solidad without talking about Drew, and you cannot talk about Drew without talking about May. I wish we had more of those characters on their own, but anyways.

She's a view into Drew that we'd been severely lacking up to that point. She's insightful in her dialogue to May, but also in her discussions on screen with Drew. It's just nice seeing Drew interact with people who are not May, which he never does. We get to see more of his personality come out around Sol, parts we don't usually see because he's too busy tunnel-visioning. (Note to self, I need to clip every time Drew talks to May and every time he talks to someone else and compare the runtimes because I bet it's going to be, like, a twenty minute difference, but anyways).

Solidad comes across as a former mentor of sorts, and it's nice seeing Drew interact with someone with that sense of respect (which he usually lacks). I think for May, it's also really fun to see her talk to Solidad- because Solidad respects May. It's just a really fun dynamic that adds balance to May and Drew. Drew's shown as stronger than May up to this point, but Sol is much stronger than him and yet respects May, and it's just a fun way to sort of even the playing field, if that makes sense? Solidad bridges a gap there; her career respect of May paired with her career superiority over Drew just really hammers in how far May has come by the Kanto Grand Festival, if her main rival's stronger rival sees her in such a positive light. I hope that made at least 5% sense.

I think also, going into more shitposty territory, I love Solidad's personality. She comes across as this mature, well-spoken, composed, respectful older sister type, but you look closer and she's actually such a shit-stirrer 😭 She point-blank told May that Drew has, and I quote, "Feelings for you" (shoutout to my queue tag, feelings for queue), and she's friends with Harley so her ethical code must be at least flexible, and she is, IMO, the reason that The Absol Scene goes as poorly as it does (Drew obviously went to the woods to train and be alone for a reason, as he is Not Doing Well, so Solidad... checks notes, calls him out in front of his crush WHICH SOL KNOWS and also like 5 other people when he's already in a fragile state. great job girl💀). Like, under the cool and collected exterior she is SUCH a problem-causer. A tea-spiller. She'd submit coordinator blinds to deuxmoi, I know this in my heart. I think it's so fun though because from her canon actions, you can extrapolate that she's someone who does her own thing if she thinks it's right and without input or permission, regardless of if it's actually right or not, and that's kind of where my joke about her being Chaotic Lawful comes in. I think she does have a strong sense of right and wrong, but I think it's a very Solidad-specific sense and not one that is, you know, rooted in a binary that most people would understand or assume to be the case lol.

This is so unstructured, but she's just fun and I like rambling about her. I also like that she only has Kanto pokemon, I love her backstory with Drew, I like that she knows Brock and Harley, she's just really interesting for a three-eipsode character!

#this is so messy and rambly but i'm full of messy rambles and happy to hand them out lmao.#coordinator solidad #tay's tag

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buckybarnesss · 2 years ago

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laura hale: darling, dearest, dead

welcome to where i care way too much about teen wolf in the year 2023.

i have no shame.

i've been working on this meta for a few weeks now and it’s definitely grown past its original scope. at first, i just wanted to do a deep dive into the weirdness around laura’s death but of course that expanded as i sat down and hashed out my thoughts.

@renninflight 's tags on one of my posts really gave me the push for this because i've apparently just been waiting for the opportunity to talk about the mysterious murder of laura hale

shoutout also to my teen wolf buddy and tumblr mutual of forever @dear-massacre our teen wolf talks definitely helped, probably wormed their way in here and this wouldn’t have existed without you.

laura's death is the core mystery of the first season and i’ve always been intrigued by the circumstances surrounding it.

i’m definitely not the first to question the circumstances surrounding laura’s death but i’m going to put on my tinfoil conspiracy theory hat and discuss the events just prior to wolf moon and how laura hale haunts me the narrative.

buckle up buttercups this is long.

just to get this out of the way immediately, i need you to understand that teen wolf's plots and timeline were apparently written on a soggy napkin found crumbled up under the seat cushion of jeff davis's couch. season 1's story is the most cohesive but there wasn't a show bible for a long time, which explains its loose relationship with keeping consistent canon. this post on the teen wolf wiki from september 2013 says explicitly that some assistant was tasked with writing one. this would've placed it after 3a had aired but before 3b did.

while i won’t be digging into the teen wolf timeline here, i will be working from my own understanding of it.

a lot of teen wolf is left to implication, inference and subtext as we the audience are locked into scott mccall's point of view and his knowledge of what's happening. this allows for scott to be ignorant about the world he unwittingly and unwillingly enters so that information can be doled out at a steady drip and the mysteries heightened.

that said, onwards to what has become my teen wolf magnum opus.

introduction: the dead girl

laura hale is the ultimate dead girl trope in teen wolf which is a show littered with the corpses of dead girls. it makes sense of course when you know she is the narrative sister of laura palmer of twin peaks fame.

unlike laura palmer though, laura hale never gets to tell her story. she is dead before the show begins.her corpse is treated cavalierly by scott and stiles, desecrated by the argents and stripped of her personhood.

interestingly, david lynch’s daughter jennifer lynch not only a authored a spin off novel for twin peaks told from laura palmer’s perspective called the secret diary of laura palmer but also directed four episodes of teen wolf (silverfinger, i.e.d, perishable and codominance).

it's a cool connection.

i like this quote from esquire about laura palmer and the creation of the dead girl trope:

“we don't see laura with any control over her circumstances. we meet her after she's been wrapped in a plastic bag and left to rot, which essentially leaves her narrative and legacy to be largely determined by those who are investigating her. we don't learn about laura through laura—we learn about laura by piecing together what she left behind.”

laura hale’s murder also invokes a visual similarity to a real life beautiful dead girl as well.

elizabeth short.

elizabeth short is known to history as the black dahlia. her naked, posed, and bisected corpse was discovered in a vacant lot in january 1947. she was 22 years old.

when betty bersinger discovered elizabeth that morning she thought she’d stumbled upon a mannequin. in a way, she had. the person elizabeth short was is often lost amongst the sensationalized headlines, salacious gossip and speculation surrounding her case. instead, she has become the perfect, posable victim unable to tell her own story.

elizabeth short is the template for all the dead girls in modern media.

what makes laura hale different though is how she’s a non-character within teen wolf despite her death’s significance as the unpreventable, fixed event within the show’s universe.

laura hale has the most in common with the other dead beautiful girls erica reyes and paige krasikeva. each of them killed before their full potential could be realized their ghosts left to haunt the narrative.

as i said earlier though, the circumstances surrounding her death have always intrigued me. i’ve always believed there was a sort of convergence of events happening prior to wolf moon that led to the inciting incident of laura hale's murder.

we’re even told this throughout the show if you’re paying attention.

one of the things i always wished we’d gotten from teen wolf was more information about not just laura herself but what exactly she knew prior to her death but we can infer quite a bit.

let’s take a look at what we do know.

a history lesson: drinking poison from the same vine

to understand what happened to laura hale when she was killed we have to step back and look at what happened before the first scenes of the show.

in particular we have to take a look at peter hale, the argents and the alpha pack. this means revisiting visionary among some other relevant episodes.

visionary is probably one of if not the most central lore episode within the series and it also gives us a glimpse of both talia and laura hale while they were still alive.

laura herself is more of an afterthought in this episode as she's never named on screen.

so what does visionary tell us about laura?

it tells us that she was already in a leadership position within the hale pack by this time and is clearly put forth as talia's natural, intended successor due to her very presence at the summit. it also tells us kali, ennis and deucalion knew laura hale personally even if it was a fleeting acquaintance.

in the finer details of the episode we learn a few other things such as talia, laura and peter were all aware of the threat of the argents. we learn one of ennis’s betas was killed in retaliation for killing two hunters. the death of the beta seems very cruel and unusual as we learn that he was shot through the throat, his claws were ripped out and he was cut in half.

the last point in particular is notable as there’s only one hunter we know of that cuts werewolves in half.

gerard argent.

motel california is just a few episodes prior to visionary where it’s revealed that alexander argent killed himself in 1977 at the glen capri motel after being bitten. gerard claims it was deucalion that bit his brother which is how he justifies his actions in visionary.

is it the full truth? doubtful. maybe alexander argent was bitten by deucalion and maybe he wasn’t but gerard seems to believe he was and that is what matters.

belief in the teen wolf universe is a real, tangible concept but it’s incredibly important to the narrative conceit of this episode. gerard and peter are both unreliable narrators who purposefully minimize their roles in the stories they tell. maybe they even believe their own lies to a degree.

what we know as the audience as it’s proven multiple times throughout the series is that gerard rejects the idea of peace and is known for being brutal and cruel in his methods.

visionary also goes a long way to illustrate that peter hale has always been, you know, Like That. he skulks around the story even in his own version of events where he’s trying to minimize his own role in paige’s death.

i believe that the non-existence of laura in his story except for a throwaway mention about how laura told derek about the packs being in town is two fold. one, peter was jealous of laura’s position in the pack and two, his guilt over killing her.

peter’s guilt is an interesting thing because he is first and foremost all about the survival of peter hale but he does care about those he perceives as his. for him, killing laura was something he regretted but was necessary so that peter could gain the alpha power.

laura was a sacrifice.

another thing about visionary is the absence of peter and talia’s relationship but who else would’ve told her about derek and what happened? talia isn’t surprised when she finds derek in the cellar.

over the course of the show we do not get a lot about talia and peter’s relationship which is a thing that keeps me up at night but i don’t think it’s too far of a leap to conclude that talia knew her brother’s nature and probably saw it as useful in it’s own way so long as she was the one holding the leash. the way peter advises derek is probably not too far off from how he advised talia.

there’s a tiny glimpse of this in season 4’s monstrous.

meredith walker is subjected to peter’s inner ravings while he’s comatose as they somehow connected mental frequencies.

there’s parts in there about how he’ll be a vengeful god and remake the supernatural of beacon hills in his own image and blah blah blah it all tracks for peter but the parts about talia are interesting not only because it gives us a glimpse into how peter perceived talia but also because he specifically name drops the argents as the threat.

is it the full truth? no. peter subscribes to the from-a-certain-point-of-view version of the truth and we have to remember this is peter just after the fire. he’s comatose, horrifically injured and on some level he’s aware that most of his family is now deceased.

what looking at this gives us is peter’s perspective and what he latched onto post-fire thus creating the peter we meet.

“i predicted this. i told talia this was going to happen. something like this was going to happen. i said they were going to come for us. the argents. they’re going to come for us. they’re gonna burn us to the ground. they’re going to burn us to the ground. did she listen? of course not. did anyone listen? they listened to her. yes! say that everything was going to be fine. that we were all perfectly safe. but she made us weak! she made us weak. and what happens to the weakest in the herd? they get picked off by the predators. we used to be the apex predators. until talia turned us into sheep.”

there is another key point about talia and peter that i think cannot be overlooked. the removal of memories. she took the memory of the nemeton’s location from both him and derek after their experiences there and she also took the memory of his tryst with corrine that resulted in malia’s birth.

i think what these things together tell us is that peter hale is vengeful and resentful but not just towards the argents but also talia but talia is beyond his reach. laura isn’t.

the last player that needs to be examined is the alpha pack. visionary gives us a version of events of why deucalion is the way he is and it ends with him killing his beta marco absorbing his power. this in itself isn’t actually all that interesting as this was the foregone conclusion.

when you combine it with what jennifer tells derek in the overlooked though it was just a few months after this she is attacked by kali at the base of the nemeton, which means the creation of the alpha pack was already underway mere weeks after deucalion is blinded by gerard.

we know talia hale was aware of what happened to deucalion along with gerard argent’s involvement so it would also stand to reason she would then be aware of the creation of the alpha pack. i cannot imagine it would escape her notice that both ennis and kali’s packs were decimated by their alphas and then they joined with deucalion. that seems like a cataclysmic event that’d get through the supernatural grapevine quickly.

if talia knew then so did laura as she was like i said clearly talia’s successor.

the mysterious death of laura hale part I: who cut laura in half?

let’s revisit the scene of the crime to examine the absolutely hinky circumstances surrounding laura's death and what the hell was happening in the woods the night scott was bitten by peter.

if i learned anything from gil grissom the first piece of evidence is the body. this is how we and scott meet laura hale.

i don’t think it’s speculation to say that peter hale killed laura but it was gerard argent who cut her in half.

in the season 2 opening episode omega we meet gerard argent and learn of his propensity to use a broadsword to cut werewolves in half but it is chris that gives scott the warning.

chris: "scott do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?"

scott: "i have a feeling i don't want to."

chris: "a medical term for amputating somebody at the waist. cutting them in half. takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that."

this foreshadows what happens to the omega at the end of the episode but it reminds the viewer that we’ve already seen a corpse like that.

it may be a drop in the bucket compared to all the trauma scott has experienced since that night but i don’t think laura’s severed corpse is a sight he’s forgotten. which is what i believe argent is counting on here.

he knows what his father did.

he’s intimidating scott as much as he’s warning him not just about lydia but also about his father’s impending arrival and what gerard is capable of.

by this point chris knows kate broke the code by killing the hales in such a gruesome fashion but what does kate say when chris confronts her in code breaker?

chris: “i know what you did.”

kate: “i did what i was told to do.”

gee, i wonder who gave kate the carte blanche on killing the hales? i bet he also used paige’s death as a way to manipulate her as we see him do with allison. he was in town after all when paige was attacked by ennis and subsequently died. it's not a stretch to believe that a seasoned hunter like gerard would be able to spot a supernatural death cover up via animal attack.

the argents talk a big game about their women being leaders but gerard is the puppet master tugging on kate’s strings just like he did allison’s in season 2. this doesn’t minimize kate’s own sociopathy. kate can be a victim and a perpetrator.

we know from visionary that the argents have been known to operate around the beacon hills area to hunt but they don’t live there until chris and his family move there just prior to wolf moon.

i think we can infer that gerard ordered chris to move to beacon hills in response to laura hale being back in the area for the first time since the fire and i don’t think he aimed to just keep an eye on her.

there’s another overlooked aspect as to why gerard would be very interested in laura hale. he wants to cure his cancer via the bite. in fact, i wouldn’t be surprised if he would have offered her kate in exchange for the bite.

sure, it’s speculative, but i think there are enough pieces to support it as a working theory.

unlike peter there is never a confession from gerard about his part in the crime so why am i certain he did it?

let’s go back to the body for a moment.

while there’s a lot of gore, most of the blood is on laura herself.

there’s a significant lack of blood either around or underneath laura. with the amount of trauma we can see on her body there should be a bloody mess but there isn’t.

also notice how her arms are splayed out. it’s like she was dropped there.

she also doesn’t appear to be all that decayed so she’s still pretty, uh, fresh.

so again why do i believe gerard cut her in half if peter killed her?

not only can we infer in the subtext from the conversation chris has with scott in omega but looking at the cut on laura’s body it is too clean to be from being ripped in half by an animal or a werecreature.

however, a person with a sharp, heavy sword with the know-how that we know does this? seems a bit more plausible doesn’t it?

also kate literally tells us that hunters did it. she doesn’t name gerard but she informs derek in the tell:

“yes, your sister was severed into pieces and used as bait to catch you. unpleasant, and frankly a little too texas chainsaw massacre for my taste, but quite true. but here’s the part that’s really going to kick you in the balls. we didn’t kill her.”

neither the audience nor derek know if kate can be believed. i don’t think she’s lying here. she’s taunting but not lying.

why lie when she knows how badly this knowledge will hurt derek?

she goes on to add:

“found bite marks on your sister’s body derek. what do you think did that? a mountain lion?”

this i believe was a fib. were there bite marks? possibly, but more likely from savangers than peter taking a bite out of laura.

also the fact that laura’s lower half was found by joggers probably means it was visible from a path which gives some credibility to the idea that the hunter's strew laura’s corpse around the preserve. they wanted it to be found.

not only would two pieces be less heavy than a whole body but it just shows how they don’t care. laura isn’t a person to them. she’s vermin, she’s subhuman, she’s not worthy of respect.

she’s no better than bait to other werewolves to them.

they leave laura to rot.

notice how kate never refers to laura by name instead calling her “your sister” to derek. kate lured derek out with insults towards laura but this one is the greatest of them all. kate is refusing laura hale’s personhood.

the final reason i don’t believe peter tore laura in half is we’ve seen how peter kills. claws from behind are consistent with how he goes at derek at the end of heart monitor and jackson in master plan or throat slashing which we see in the tell with the video store clerk, kate in code breaker and jennifer in lunar eclipse.

or he mauls them viscerally like we see with the mute in the benefactor.

a creature of habit he calls himself.

in none of peter’s kills either as alpha or as a beta does he tear someone in half.

while peter hale is a dramatic king and doesn’t mind getting his hands bloody, i think he’d be offended if someone accused him of tearing laura in half.

the mysterious death of laura hale II: why does peter kill laura?

speaking of peter, why did he kill laura?

the obvious answer is for the alpha power so he could fully heal..he says as much in wolf’s bane.

peter: “yes, becoming an alpha, taking that from laura pushed me over a plateau in the healing process.”

but with peter hale nothing is ever so simple. there’s always layers.

in alpha pact, peter gives derek this speech when he’s winding derek up about how to heal cora:

“you know, normal wolves never abandon an injured member of the pack. they care for it. they even bring it food from a kill and then regurgitate it into the mouth of the injured wolf. they even give it physical and emotional comfort by intensely grooming it. in a way they can do more than just ease pain. they can be instrumental in healing their own."

as i mentioned earlier, i think peter not only holds a lot of resentment towards talia for what he perceived as inaction but also towards laura.

after the fire, laura did what cora says in visionary they were taught to do when hunters find them.

cora: "waiting. hiding. that's what we're told to do when the hunters find us. hide and heal."

in all the trauma and grief, laura did the only thing that she could reasonably do in response to such a horrific tragedy. she packed up her little brother who she’d suddenly become the guardian of and put an entire continent between them and beacon hills.

in doing so she left behind peter. i don’t blame her for leaving beacon hills. she was reacting to the threat of the hunters by trying to protect what little was left of her family and herself.

you have to put on your own oxygen mask before you can help others.

however, in leaving peter behind he was left to not only slowly go mad but he was also left vulnerable.

peter may have felt laura not only abandoned him as a member of the pack but abdicated her right to be the alpha.

derek tells scott in riddled:

“my family didn’t just live in beacon hills.they protected it.”

laura left beacon hills unprotected and she left peter alone.

peter killed laura for the alpha power he always saw as rightfully his so he could heal and do the job he felt talia and laura were both too weak to do.

while peter killed laura his culpability does come into question.

in co-captain he performs the memory sharing ritual with scott which gives us a small glimpse of peter’s memories in the moments before laura’s death.

laura enters the scene looking around as if she hears something and then laura calls out his name in question. when peter turns he doesn’t look like a man in control with his eyes rolling, mouth agape.

his actions look autonomous. peter the man is not at the wheel.

if we take what peter says in wolf’s bane at face value about how he was being driven by pure instinct then we can surmise that the wolf was in control and acted on impulse and peter’s deepest thoughts and desires.

the same ones we hear peter raving and ranting at meredith in monstrous.

vengeance.

i think the truth seems to be somewhere in the middle.

peter often downplays his own involvement as a manipulation tactic. so while he lacked inhibition, killing laura for the alpha power was premeditated as we know his nurse was acting on his behalf. i do wonder though if laura’s body hadn’t been severed by hunters would peter have resurrected her?

what’s a little murder between family members, you know?

the mysterious death of laura hale III: the conspiracy

there are two conspiracies in season 1.

the conspiracy to kill the hales and the conspiracy to lure laura hale back to beacon hills.

about three months before her death laura was sent the picture of the revenge spiral on the deer which brought her back to beacon hills. to the territory she had left unattended for six years. in pack mentality, derek says that laura came back to beacon hills looking for the alpha and that she told him she was close to figuring something out about the fire.

luring laura back to beacon hills wasn’t just about killing her. that was the endgame, but first peter needed her to do the leg work in finding the conspirators that set the fire.

the conspiracy itself hinges on one person since peter was still unable to do all of it himself due to him still recovering and we know nothing about her.

nurse jennifer plagues me. her motivations for helping peter were never given. she’s merely a tool to help peter enact his revenge.

all we have are theories and i have found precious few in my searches through old meta.

the most popular theory and i use that word loosely is that she was jennifer blake sowing the seeds for her eventual return to take on the alpha pack. i’ve considered this one and i think a skilled writer could make it work, but within the context we’re given i don’t think so.

i do believe jennifer blake definitely scouted out beacon hills just as the alpha pack did but i don’t think she and nurse jennifer are one in the same. besides, we do see nurse jennifer’s corpse in code breaker.

another theory i came across was that she’s a banshee compelled in the same way lydia was by peter. again because we have such little information there’s enough room for it to be possible but i doubt it.

the conclusion i have come to about nurse jennifer is that she’s someone like dr. fenris and brunski from eichen house. while we do not learn about eichen house until season 3b dr fenris is introduced in wolf’s bane and is in the search for a cure.

mostly, i think she’s simply a reference to nurse ratched from one flew over the cuckoo’s nest. her nurse's uniform is even anachronistic.

but what was nurse jennifer’s role in the conspiracy?

she is the one who sent the picture of the deer spiral to laura hale to spur her to come back to beacon hills. nurse jennifer is also the one who sent allison the text to come to the school during night school. like laura, nurse jennifer did a lot of footwork for peter to make his plans work and it’s a damn shame we’ll never know why.

the mysterious death of laura hale iv: the fixed point

laura’s death is what i think of as a fixed point in the universe of teen wolf. the idea of which is something i shamelessly took from doctor who.

in doctor who a fixed point is considered a lynchpin of the structure of ordered history. they cannot be altered as any attempts to do so would unravel linear time.

laura hale’s death is that fixed point. it was unavoidable, unpreventable. poor laura hale doomed by the narrative.

in the events surrounding the murder of laura hale there are two more players i haven’t really discussed. they exist on the periphery but are no less important.

doctor alan deaton and the nemeton.

cora says this in visionary:

"they keep us connected to humanity but they're a secret even within the pack. sometimes only the alpha knows who the emissary is. derek and i had no idea about deaton."

as talia’s successor laura would’ve had to know who their pack’s emissary was.

this is confirmed in fury when deaton not only insults derek to his face but reveals that he made a promise to talia to help her children and derek recalls laura mentioning deaton indirectly as some kind of advisor.

i say indirectly because if laura had told derek explicitly that deaton was someone who could help and advise than he wouldn’t have suspected him as the alpha in season 1.

did laura see deaton at all during her time in beacon hills? i would say it’s probable but i get the impression laura played her cards close to her chest. deaton was very unnerved by what was happening and with laura’s death probably concerned for his own wellbeing.

deaton doesn’t reveal himself to derek because he has no idea if derek’s the one who killed laura or not. there’s no established relationship between the two for trust to go either way.

truly the greatest villain of teen wolf is miscommunication, but i digress.

now here comes the part where i put on my tin foil conspiracy theory hat. i believe laura was killed near or at the nemeton.

an unintended and unacknowledged sacrifice.

peter may not have consciously remembered its location, but who's to say it didn’t draw him there.

we know from jennifer’s speech in the overlooked that the nemeton had a small spark of power from paige’s death. it was enough power to keep her alive after kali left her for dead so it isn’t difficult to believe it could’ve drawn peter to it as well.

we know gerard knows its location despite what he tells allison about him not remembering. i don’t believe that geriatric bastard anymore than i believe peter as peter is able to find the nemeton easy enough because he shows up to kill jennifer there.

now, i have zero proof of this. it’s all speculation from vibes and what we see in lunar eclipse but considering laura’s body was moved from wherever she originally died and was severed it’s possible.

it’s easy to imagine a scenario where laura finds peter at the nemeton where he kills her and leaves her body where it fell. later, gerard and his hunters discover her corpse and in frustration and anger at his plan falling through, gerard decides to use laura as bait for either the werewolf that killed her, derek or whatever other werewolves come along. waste not, want not after all.

either way an alpha’s blood is spilled there giving the nemeton just a little bit more power.

in lunar eclipse allison, scott and stiles perform a proxy ritual sacrifice to find out the location of the nemeton so they can rescue their parents. it’s successful, but only because the nemeton allows them to know its location.

in revealing itself to them it chooses them as its champions and.it’s magic takes them back to the night scott was bitten, to the fixed point in the teen wolf universe.

laura hale’s death.

haunting the narrative: laura hale’s uneasy ghost

“and so, the woman dies. the woman dies so the man can be sad about it. the woman dies so the man can suffer. she dies to give him a destiny. dies so he can fall to the dark side. dies so he can lament her death. as he stands there, brimming with grief, brimming with life, the woman lies there in silence.”

by aoko matsuda, translated by polly barton

once the first season comes to a close and laura hale’s murder is solved she is no longer mentioned save a few precious times, but the ghost of laura lingers.

laura haunts the narrative.

derek has forgiven many transgressions against himself and his person but he will never forgive peter for laura’s murder. her death underscores every single one of their interactions.

laura’s the specter that hangs between cora and derek. cora loses her sister twice and derek’s words “sorry to disappoint you” only speak to how he feels he cannot live up to the ghost of not only his mother but also laura.

this, however, is not the only way laura remains in the narrative. they allude to her in other ways.

in anchors scott reprises the scene from wolf moon where he tells stiles they’re going to go out into the woods to find a dead body but in a reverse uno of wolf moon though, scott is able to save the naked hale girl in the woods and bring her back to her family.

at the beginning of party guessed, lydia has one of her banshee visions. if you pay attention you can catch a girl in the bleachers that doesn’t quite belong. in fact, she’s crying out distressed and frightened.

that girl is laura hale.

while uncredited the actress looks a lot like haley roe murphy who played laura in the first season and the necklace around her neck has a red pendant that alludes to her alpha status.

lydia sees an echo of laura hale as a warning.

i like this shot in second chance at first line when scott is at the morgue. he pulls out the drawer containing laura's lower half and the pov for the shot is almost like laura is watching despite her upper half not being there.

the very last time we see laura’s body is after stiles and scott dig it up.

from this new perspective, laura’s stare has gone from vacant to accusatory.

it’s a jump scare, the transition from laura as a wolf to laura as human. it’s meant to freak stiles and scott out and confuse them.

what it’s always said to me though is how dare you.

whether or not it was intentional (and let’s be real this is teen wolf so it’s probably half and half if we’re being generous) the murder of laura remains one of the most intriguing incidents on teen wolf and her being one of the most untapped characters.

i said earlier i wanted to know what laura knew before her death. what had she uncovered about the fire? had she learned about cora being alive? did she know about kate and derek?

the answer is that it doesn’t matter. It no longer matters because laura died. we can never know what she knew.

in teen wolf it doesn’t matter because laura is a non-character while being the most important character of them all.

laura hale is the beautiful dead girl.

she is the inciting incident, the fixed point, the name unsaid and the spirit unexercised.

“an anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young-- a dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young.” lenore by edgar allen poe

#my blog #teen wolf #laura hale #teen wolf meta #thoughts on teen wolf #did i have a lot of thoughts? yes

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