#shoutout to the girl who always gets the same thing who I thought was my neighbor (she isn’t they just look alike and have the same car) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelscruff · 1 year ago

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truth or dare (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

notification blog | kofi | in honor of my bestie han @swiftispunk who recently celebrated her birthday (and in honor of spooky season starting 🎃) i thought i'd step outside the boundaries of what i usually write and try something new. i'd also like to give a huge shoutout to @toxicanonymity whose entire masterlist greatly influenced my desire to try something like this. please heed the warnings!!! and as i said this is my first time writing anything like this so pls be kind 🫠

summary: a harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: dubcon (reader is given a choice to leave, but not immediately), dark!joel, age gap (reader is college age, joel is in his fifties), unprotected p in v sex, use of restraints, ropes, spanking, degradation, sir kink, dirty talk (use of 'little girl' as a pet name), face fucking, rough sex, creampie, brief anal play, humiliation, inappropriate use of a household item (he puts a flashlight up her cooch), marking (with a sharpie), size kink (joel is much bigger than reader and can lift her), pls lemme know if i forgot anything word count: 8.3k

Your palms are sweaty, fingers sticking to your skin as you stand at the edge of the property with goosebumps already blooming along your flesh. The air is chilly, that end of summer evening air flooding your nostrils as a car drives past through streams of leftover rainwater, headlights blurring your vision for a moment. It passes quickly and you're alone again, standing on the street corner with a mixture of anticipation and dread filling your trembling body.

Everything had been fine about twenty minutes ago. A typical party with your hometown friends, one last hurrah before everyone splits off for the third year in a row to go back to their respective colleges, back to long lectures and underwhelming frat boys. It had gone the same way it always does when you get together - shots, secrets, schemes. No end of summer party could ever be complete without a game of truth or dare, not for your crowd anyway.

It had started simple. "Which one of us had the best glow-up this year?" "I dare you to text the last guy you slept with." "What's the kinkiest thing you've done with somebody?" "I dare you to show us the last nude someone sent you." Typical borderline adolescent challenges, things you all still followed through with despite being too old for the game - it's the principle of it, to indulge and pretend, if only for a little while, that life is as simple as it once was.

"Who's the last person you had a sex dream about?"

You'd twisted your hands awkwardly in your lap, felt heat rush to the apples of your cheeks. Usually a question like this wouldn't make you hesitate, but the subject of the answer had been a slightly embarrassing one. As soon as the name Joel Miller had fallen from your lips, you'd been met with screams and squeals and excited chatter from every direction.

"He's so fucking creepy though," one of your friends had said with wide eyes, palm over her mouth, "He gives off serial killer vibes."

"Oh please, he's not that bad," another had chimed in, "He's just a loner, kinda mysterious. I see the vision."

"Are we forgetting the part where he's old as hell? Dude must be in his fifties, at least."

"But that means experience."

"It could also mean limp dick."

"You guys are disgusting," you'd moaned, leaning back on your hands, "It was one dream, let's move on."

And they had. Briefly. Until it was once again your turn and they'd all rounded on you with cheshire cat grins and glinting stares. You should have known what was coming when you chose Dare.

"I dare you to go over to his house."

You'd resisted, of course. The dare itself didn't even make much sense; what were you meant to do? Go over and ding-dong-ditch his front door like a twelve year old boy? But it had only snowballed from there, all five girls tossing in their own thoughts and ideas, talking and giggling over each other. "She should ask him on a date." "She should just flirt a little bit, see how he reacts." "She could see how far she can get with him, maybe?" "Oh shit, that's good."

You could have always said no - there was no way any of them could force you to do it, even if it would have ended the party abruptly with grumbled complaints and a slammed door. But the more they talked the more you found yourself listening, letting the concept sink in, the images of the dream you'd had the other night flooding to the front of your mind. Mysterious and elusive Joel Miller, big hands covered in the motor oil he uses to tinker with his truck, trailing his messy fingers between the swells of your breasts...

They'd managed to convince you just by the reminder alone, though also due to the fact that they'd each tossed in a twenty dollar bill and stated that simply getting a kiss on the cheek would warrant a win. The prospect was intriguing; it would be a testament to your own desirability, your game. How far can you get with your quiet neighbor who probably hasn't touched a woman in years? Who'll probably fold the second he realizes someone as young and beautiful as you is interested in him?

"I'll do it," you'd said with a smirk, rising from the hardwood, "How hard can it be?"

Harder than you thought, apparently. Because now you stand a few feet from Joel Miller's house, loitering soundlessly at the edge of his front lawn, hesitating. The sun has gone down, turning the hedges along the side of his property into frighteningly tall shadows, dark and menacing. A light breeze flows past and you wrap yourself tighter in your well-worn maroon cardigan, shivering, staring at your boots and wondering if you can really bring yourself to do this.

It'll be so humiliating if he rejects your advances. On the other hand, will it somehow be less-so if he returns your flirtatiousness and you then have to reject him once you've gotten what you came for? How will that make you look? You're not even really sure why you care - probably because the man has done nothing to you whatsoever, nothing that would warrant such a foolish prank as this being played on him. It makes you feel bad, in a way. As much as you and your friends make fun of him, he really is just a man who keeps to himself - perhaps this is going too far.

You notice light flickering nearby, a reflection of fluorescents in the puddles of his driveway. You figured he'd be in his garage - it's where he spends most of his time, bent over the exposed hood of the truck he's seemingly been working on ever since he moved in at the beginning of the summer. You've never seen him drive it, never even seen him leave the property, but you've passed by the house on more than one occasion. You've seen the way he rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, forearms splattered black and grey, expression focused on the task at hand while sweat drips from his greying temples.

Having a sex dream about him really shouldn't have been that shocking, now that you think about it. The man is a mystery, sure, but he isn't ugly by any means.

You swallow down your qualms, picturing the faces of your friends more than likely smooshed against the living room window a few houses back, watching. As soon as you turn the corner, you'll disappear from view, obstructed by the hedges and the sudden darkness of night. You take one more deep breath, one last burst of chilly evening air into your lungs, and accept your fate.

He doesn't notice you walking up his driveway, taking slow and meager steps as you assess the open garage, the truck with its hood popped as usual, the flickering of the florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. He doesn't notice you, but you notice him. You spot a pair of steel toed boots and long denim clad legs sticking out from underneath the truck, hear the clink and clang of metal against metal while he tinkers with something down there, unseen. As you reach the garage it becomes apparent that you still have one last chance to end this before it begins, turn around and take the loss.

But you don't.

"Excuse me," you offer in a weak voice, teetering nervously at the edge of the garage door, neither inside nor out - neutral ground.

The clinking stops, replaced by the steady pounding of your heart in your chest, the heaviness of your breathing. You try to loosen your hands from their fisted forms and unclench your fingers, focusing on the stretch of flesh and bone while the legs beneath the car slowly begin to inch forward. He's not laying on any type of support, one of those wheeled contraptions you've seen other people use - no, he's simply got his back to the ground, a back and body that's slowly coming into view.

His black and green flannel rides up where he's been laying on it, as well as the grey t-shirt he wears beneath; as he slides out from under the car you spot a bare sliver of skin just above his waistband, a patch of hair that trails down into his jeans. A lump forms in your throat. When he finally peeks his head out, you swallow around it and try to remember to breathe.

Greying hair slicked back behind his ears, cheekbones smeared slightly with something black, scruff lining a strong yet soft jawline, a plump bottom lip, and those eyes... dark brown, almost black. It's the face that's practically been haunting you all summer, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.

His brow furrows as soon as he sees you, "Can I help you?"

It's not the first time you've heard him talk, but it's certainly the first time he's ever spoken directly to you. His accent is stronger than you remember, words slipping smoothly past his lips like butter as he eyes you from the floor of his garage, knees up, hands still hidden in the darkness. A few seconds pass before you realize he's asked you a question.

"Oh, um-" You haven't thought this through very far, that's for sure. What the fuck do you even say? You take a breath and remind yourself that you're good at this, have seduced your fair share of frat boys in the past two years with minimal effort and have never heard the word no. Sure, Joel Miller isn't a frat boy - far from it - but underneath his cold exterior he's still very much a man, and very much capable of falling under the spell of a beautiful woman. You hope, anyway.

"I was just taking a walk," you lie, "Saw your light on, thought I'd come say hi."

He stares at you blankly, like he's unsure exactly how he's supposed to respond - or perhaps he's already seeing through your façade. You take a step into his garage, poised at the edge as you lean casually against the opening.

"Honestly, um-" you push some hair behind your ear and attempt to look shy, though it's not a huge jump from how you're actually feeling, "I've been meaning to talk to you, before I go back to college."

At your words he raises an eyebrow and slowly brings his hands downwards, palms pressing flat against the dark concrete. You watch as he eases himself up and out from under the truck, and god he's tall - tall and broad and huge compared to you, a fact that sends a little flutter into your belly. He takes a step toward the work bench against the wall, eyes still on you as he reaches down and picks up a rag to wipe his hands, big and wide and streaked with oil. You remember your dream and feel a twinge in your underwear.

"Talk to me about what?" he asks, massaging the rag against his fingers.

You shrug as nonchalantly as you can, taking another step inside his garage, closer to where he stands at the work bench. You cross your legs in an attempt to show them off, stretching your ankle toward a spare tire on the floor and accentuating the sheerness of your black tights, the little run that splits the material at the inside of your knee, the hint of bare skin that peeks out beneath.

"Nothing in particular," you say, keeping your voice soft and steady but doing your best to keep that shy girlishness present, "Just... wanted to." You peer up at him from under your lashes and bite your lip, then reach out your hand for him to take. You say your name.

He assesses your hand but doesn't take it, brow still furrowed. "Joel," he replies, "And I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment. Don't really have time to talk." His voice is cold and gruff, absolutely no sign of interest or attraction - dammit.

"What're you doing?" you ask, tilting your head.

He continues to stare at you blankly, "What does it look like I'm doin'?"

Okaaaay, then.

You shrug again and take another step, turning to look at the wall next to you. Tools line the shelves, wrenches and screwdrivers and the like dangling rather precariously here and there, smeared in motor oil and dust. It's a mess but you'd be willing to bet that it's organized chaos, that he likes it this way.

"What's this?" you ask, pointing to a particularly large object, something that looks like a mixture between a pair of scissors and a wrench.

"Bolt cutters," he supplies you monotonously.

"Ohh," you say with a nod, leaning a bit into the confused pretty girl stereotype and hoping maybe he's a sucker for it, "And what's that?" You point toward a small cylindrical object, black and tactical, only a few inches long.

"You never seen a flashlight before?"

Oh. Right. "Woops," you giggle, "Sorry."

You turn your face to look at him sheepishly and he's still watching you, big arms now crossed against his broad chest - impatient. Well, this is clearly not working either. He's frowning, eyes so focused on your face that you feel almost naked beneath it, like he's staring into your soul. You clear your throat awkwardly and tug your bottom lip between your teeth, breaking your own gaze away from him and trying to find something else to comment on.

"So you've been working on your truck," you state, gesturing toward the vehicle as if only just noticing it was even there, "What's - uh - what's wrong with it?"

He's clearly not buying into whatever the fuck you're even trying to sell. He remains silent, eyes still on you, and suddenly it's like you've never even interacted with a man before - and to be honest, maybe you haven't. Frat boys are certainly not men by any means, and nowhere near in the same league as Joel Miller by a long shot, probably almost triple their age with a dark and mysterious aura that feels almost suffocating. He just stares at you, slightly unnerving, but also seductive in its own way, almost like he's challenging you.

"What do you want?" he asks blankly.

"I-I told you," your voice is already faltering, losing its flirtatious edge the more you realize how dumb of an idea this was, "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, I got that," he says stiffly, "Why?"

You've already exhausted the avenues you thought might work, which means you've got one last chance before he sends you packing. With bated breath you take the final few steps toward him and - averting your gaze - you reach your hand out to touch his forearm with your fingertips. It's feather light, but you're suddenly very aware of the goosebumps that rise on his freckled flesh, the way the thick hair on his arms seems to stand on end the second your skin touches his. Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

"I think you're handsome," you murmur softly, feeling warmth rush to your cheeks when you realize that it's not a lie. And it really isn't. As your gaze gradually tilts up you catch a glimpse of the hair on his chest, peeking out from under his grey t-shirt. You spot his pecs beneath the fabric of his flannel, see the throbbing veins in his neck, the coarseness of his scruff, the sharp curve of his nose, and those fucking eyes - looking at you with a darkness, a lust, that wasn't there before.

He's not just handsome; he's fucking gorgeous.

"What're you doin'?" he asks you, that gruffness still present but being taken over by something else, something darker.

"Nothing," you breathe, still trailing your fingers along his forearm until they reach its apex and dip into the soft part behind his elbow, damp with sweat. You swallow, throat going dry as you stroke his skin with your thumb.

"Doesn't feel like nothin'," his voice is quieter, matching yours, and he tilts his head slightly as he continues to stare into your eyes, "Why're you really here, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. The word sends a burst of warmth to your chest, a smile to your lips. You unlock your eyes from his bashfully, watching your own movements as you trail your fingers back down toward his hand and wrap them around one of his fingers, so thick compared to your own. You squeeze gently, biting your lip again as you peer back up at him. Here it is. Moment of truth. You tilt your head up slightly, eyelashes fluttering as you lean forward to connect your lips with his.

Except, they don't connect.

Instead he pulls his hands away from you, brings them upwards and wraps them around your upper arms, squeezing tightly. Your eyes widen, confusion flooding your features.

"Turn around and bend over."

"W-what?" Shock doesn't even begin to describe the ice cold feeling that now makes its way through your body, edged with something else - something you can't explain.

"Turn around," he repeats, his big hands squeezing your arms even tighter - relentless, firm - as he peers down at you with a dark hunger in his eyes, glinting black beneath the fluorescents, "And bend over."

He does not give you another chance to obey - you're too frozen in surprise and confusion to do anything yourself. Instead, he uses the force of his weight on your arms to spin you on the spot, shoving you against the work bench. You feel one of his hands move from your arm to your back, pushing hard until you fold, warm cheek coming to rest against the cold wood.

"Wh-what are you doing?" your voice is meager, weak, and you feel him wrap one of his hands around both your wrists like it's nothing, pinning them against your back like they're simply twigs in his wide palm.

"What you're clearly fuckin' beggin' for," he replies gruffly, and you feel his other hand at your skirt, feel the brush of his fingertips at the hem as he reaches upward to grip the band of your tights. Your eyes widen and instinctively you pull back, pull away - he just pushes you back down.

"I'm not-" you begin, shock quickly being replaced with fear when you realize how easily overpowered you are, how fluidly he's able to tug down your tights and expose your ass to him, clad in only a black thong already lost between your cheeks.

"Oh, you're not, huh?" his voice is cold and stoic, angry, "You think you can play games with me, little girl?" His hand comes to rest against the swell of your behind and you suddenly feel his breath above you, hot in your ear, "Tell me why you're really here."

You try to lift your head up to look at him better but he just shoves you back down again. Panic floods your body, mixed with the unmistakable burn of arousal. You feel yourself twitch in your underwear, feel a sudden gush of warmth spill inside the fabric as he begins to trail his finger up and down the thin line of black cotton.

"I-I'm..." You're at a complete loss for words, unable to articulate anything, unsure of what exactly is happening - or about to happen. Two minutes ago you'd been sure he was about to tell you to leave, practically kick you out of the garage himself, and now you're not sure leaving is even a possibility.

He pulls his hand back and you cry out when it comes down to slap against one of your cheeks, a sharp sting and burn you hadn't been anticipating.

"Tell me why you're here," he repeats - authoritarian, firm.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out except a frightened squeak, something which clearly eggs him on even more. He spanks you again, harder this time, palm flat and wide against your pebbled flesh. The sound that slips past your lips is somehow akin to a moan of some sort, guttural and deep.

"I'll just make it harder and harder, sweetheart," he says then, and the pet name no longer contains the warmth it did mere moments ago; instead it's cold and detached, mocking. You're still reeling when his hand comes down to slap against you again, even harder this time, and your hands ball into fists behind your back as you let out another low moan. More slick gushes into your panties and it's impossible to deny that somehow, despite the fear twinging in your heart, you're so fucking turned on.

"M-my friends," you gasp out, and you feel him squeeze your abused ass cheek which you're sure is already dark with his handprint, "They- they dared me to see how far I c-could get with you."

He lets your words sink in for a moment, squeezing again - tighter, so tight that it hurts. You whimper against the wooden top of the work bench, legs shaking.

"So you came here to get fucked," he finally states.

"N-no, I swear, I-"

"Wasn't a question," he interrupts, and you feel his other hand tighten around your wrists, "You came here to get fucked so you're gonna get fucked, end of story."

"But I-"

Without any warning he suddenly pushes himself up against you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans pressing deliciously up against your exposed skin. You gasp, eyes going wide when you feel the long, thick shape of his dick between your cheeks, huge and hard. He holds it there, his free hand coming down to lay flat beside your head against the work bench.

"You feel that?" he asks, voice suddenly quieter but still full of that ice cold malice, "You feel that cock?"

Fuck. "Y-yes," you breathe, "I feel it."

"You have five seconds before i close this door and stuff you full, understand?" Suddenly all you can hear is the heavy sound of his breathing, the panting of your own, the thud of your heart where it presses painfully against the wood. He's giving you an out.

"I- I-" you swallow, brows furrowing when you feel his hand slacken around your wrists. You could pull away now, yank yourself out of his grasp and sprint down his driveway, return to your friends. Forget this ever even happened.

It's your last chance.

"Five," he begins, breath warm against your face.

Run. Just run.

"Four."

But why?

"Three."

Why don't you want to run?

"Two."

Why do you want to stay?

"One."

He pulls his hand up from the work bench and hits a button on the wall, eliciting a loud mechanical noise to your left as the garage door starts to close. You watch with wide eyes as your chance to leave slowly vanishes inch by inch until it's gone completely, and yet no part of you itches to run, to escape. There's nothing to escape from, you realize. You want to be here. You want him to fuck you.

As the reality of your situation starts to settle, his grip around your wrists tightens once again. You sense him reaching up somewhere above you, and you suddenly feel the harsh texture of what feels like thickly braided rope wrapping around your wrists. The realization that he's restraining you sends another pool of release into your panties, another faint squeak past your lips.

"You gonna stay still for me?" he asks, voice dark and clearer now in the silence of his garage, no sounds of rain or cars to disrupt you, "Huh? You gonna be a good girl?"

"Yes," you breathe, nodding against the wood.

"Say it."

"I'm gonna stay still," you promise, "I'm gonna be a good girl."

He finishes knotting the rope around your wrists, tight and uncomfortable against your skin. He pushes his groin up against your ass again, brings his now free hands downward to reach through your cardigan and squeeze your breasts. Your nipples are hard beneath the soft cotton of your shirt, no bra between the layer of material and your bare skin; he tweaks them in his fingers and you shudder.

"These are mine," he whispers in your ear, scruff nuzzling against the side of your face, "These tits, this ass," he drops his hands from your breasts to squeeze your cheeks again, "and this pussy." His hand drops to the puffy shape of your lips beneath your thong and you whimper. "Understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

You're not sure what he's asking for, what he wants you to say. You take a guess. "Yes, sir," you whisper, and you feel him smile against your ear. Bingo.

He doesn't bother to pull your tights down the rest of the way; instead, he rips them, pulling them apart in his big hands and reaching inside to curl his index finger around the thin strip of your thong. He pulls it - hard - and it rips from you with a rough tearing sound and a painful sting, eliciting a loud gasp from you which he rewards with another spank.

You feel his finger slip between your lips for a moment, gathering some of your release before he pulls it away. "Juicy fuckin' pussy," he mutters, and you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone, vulgar in the quiet room. You have no time to ask about protection, no time to even really process how quickly this is already happening, before you feel the warm tip of his cock pushing against your twitching hole. You gasp again, hands furling under the ropes.

"Shh," he quiets you, stilling for a second, "Don't squirm."

"Sorry," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "I'm sorry."

"What're you sorry for?" he murmurs, feeding his cock to you in small increments, reveling in the noises falling past your lips. It's so fucking big, bigger than you'd anticipated - it feels like he's spearing you, splitting you in half, especially without much preparation. It stretches and burns, but the warmth of it, the way it pulses as it invades your body, just makes you gush even more. "Hm?" he continues, "What're you sorry for? You sorry for squirmin' or sorry you pissed me off?"

Your eyes roll back as he bottoms out, his pubic hair pressing coarsely against your pussy lips, heavy balls firm to your ass. You try to speak but it's hard to get the words out when you're so full, the wide tip of him pushing into your cervix.

"You a virgin?" he asks you then, voice changing for a moment, like for the briefest of seconds he's wondering whether he should have gone slower.

You shake your head quickly, "N-no," you manage to gasp out.

"Feel like a fuckin' virgin," he grunts, pulling out and then immediately slamming back inside. Your head bumps against the work bench, a groan falling from your mouth as he makes a home inside you. "Christ," he mutters, "Tight little thing. You feel me in your stomach, baby?"

You're not sure he wants you to answer, but it becomes clear when his hand slaps down on your ass cheek again and you cry out.

"Yes," you moan, then quickly amend, "Yes, sir."

"S'what happens when you come in here, actin' like a little slut," he suddenly reaches for your cardigan and yanks it off - it catches on your restrained hands and he simply rips it and tosses it to the floor, "But then again, you're not actin', are you? Huh? What's a slut like you doin' wearin' all these fuckin' layers?"

"I'm s-sorry," you repeat, already mourning the loss of your favorite sweater, now ripped to shreds at your feet.

"Sorry's not good enough, little girl," he breathes, thrusting into you again so hard that you yelp, cheek still pressed into the splintered wood of the work bench, "That's it, fuckin' take it."

He fucks you without any reservations, any inhibitions. Your legs shake and you can hear the slap of his hairy thighs against yours as he pounds into you relentlessly. You have no choice but to take it, the stretch of his huge cock becoming less painful the more he gives it to you over and over, the room full of the wet squelch of your pussy gripping him. He grabs your hips, fingertips digging into your bare flesh as he takes and takes; you wish you could see his face, wish you could see how he looks when he's fucking you, getting his pleasure. The thought makes you whine, tears streaming down your face as your body moves back and forth against the work bench.

It feels fucking amazing. You've never had a cock as big as his before, never been fucked so deep and so hard, like he doesn't care if he breaks you, makes you cry. He hasn't touched your clit and yet you already feel you could come from just this, just the relentless push and pull of his dick inside you. Unfortunately, just as soon as you feel your orgasm starting to build, he pulls out. Your brow furrows.

"Stand up," he orders, "and turn around."

You obey, relief overtaking you as soon as you're no longer bent at such an awkward angle. The moment you turn to face him you barely get a look at his face before he's reaching down and tearing your shirt in half - easily, like it's nothing. You don't even have time to wonder how the hell you're gonna get home with all your clothes ripped to shreds when his mouth is suddenly wrapped around your left nipple, and you whine at the sensation. You peer down at him, biting your lip and watching his wet lips suckle around the hard bud, beard scratching deliciously against your skin. Your hand aches to cup the back of his head but it's still pinned behind your back, tied tight beneath the rope.

"Fuck," you whimper, and his dark gaze flashes up to meet yours as he sucks, the hint of a smirk on his lips when he pulls away.

"Feels good, does it?" he asks, and seeing the words come out of his mouth is somehow more sinful than when you could only hear them, "You like bein' used?"

You nod almost immediately despite never having experienced anything like this in your life - though admittedly you've undeniably wanted to experience this, ached to have somebody take control, tell you what to do, make you do things. It's like you've somehow known subconsciously all summer that Joel Miller could be that person for you, despite never having said two words to him. It was just a feeling, an instinct, and that dream...

"Yeah?" he continues, and suddenly his hand comes up to cup your pussy, thumb finally pressing against your clit. You cry out, tears still trickling down your cheeks. "Said you were in college, right? You take any college dick up here? Be honest now."

You nod again, "Y-yes."

"How many?"

"I... I don't know," you breathe. It's the truth, and you can tell as soon as the words leave your mouth that it does something to him. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, two fingers slipping up inside of you.

"'Course you don't know," he murmurs, pushing them as deep inside as he can, making you whimper, "You wouldn't know, would you?"

Your thighs tighten together - squeezing his hand - and he just smirks again, curving his fingers and making you moan. Your lower back digs into the work bench as he stands, pushes you up against it and peers down into your eyes again with a hunger that's only getting worse. You assess his expression, the pout of his lips as he fucks you with his fingers, the focused lines creased into his forehead. So fucking handsome.

"You're not a good girl," he breathes, nose brushing yours, "Knew it from the day I saw you. You're just made for takin' cock. Am I right?"

"Yes," you whisper, nodding shakily and bumping your lips up toward his - he pulls away again and you can't help but feel disappointed, aching to feel his lips against yours.

"Tonight you're made to take my cock, that clear?" he continues, and you watch as his other hand travels downward to wrap around it - just out of your periphery. He's too close to you, crowded so much in your space that you know he won't like it if you break eye contact. You can tell by his arm movements that he's pumping himself at the same speed he's fucking you with his fingers, inhaling deeply, "I'm gonna ruin you, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not."

"Y-yes sir," you whisper, voice squeaking when he speeds up his fingers and pumps them in and out with fervor, thumb rubbing furiously against your clit. Yet again he brings you almost to the edge and then removes his hand completely, stepping back with a low chuckle when you whimper pathetically.

Your disappointment only lasts a moment because now you can see him, see the girthy length of him that's already been inside of you hanging out of his zipper, glistening with your slick. He's huge, tip dark and intrusive, beads of his own arousal dripping from the slit; your mouth waters. His eyes cast down to where you're looking and he smiles, dark and mocking.

"Never gonna see another dick like this, darlin'," he breathes, "So you better start showin' your appreciation." His eyes glint. "Kneel."

You're practically already on your way to kneeling before he says it, in awe of the sheer girth and shape of him. The second your bare knees hit the cold floor he's crowding you again, hand coming around to hold the back of your head.

"Open wide, baby," he murmurs.

Your jaw drops and he plunges inside your mouth quickly and seamlessly, making you gasp around his length as your eyes widen. You can't breathe, looking up at him with more tears already fogging your vision as he immediately slips into the depths of your throat with no hesitation. You gag, eyes bulging as you attempt to swallow around the intrusion, find your breath, but it's impossible.

"Yeah," he breathes, both of his hands cradling your face and holding you still as he lets his cock sit unmoving in your throat, "Yeah, that's it. That's what you're made for."

He only holds it there for a few seconds but by the time he pulls it out you're gasping for air, coughing and spluttering as tears stream relentlessly down your cheeks. He keeps cradling your face, tuts to himself as you try to get your breath back. The head of his cock bumps softly against your bottom lip.

"Not off to a great start, are we?" he murmurs, "Let's try again."

He pushes his cock past your lips again and you try your hardest not to gag, a little more prepared this time. The pulsing head of his cock situates itself firmly in your throat, the pubic hair at the base tickling your nose while his balls bounce against your chin. You look up at him with pleading eyes, watch as he stares down at you with nothing but malice in his expression, contempt. You're just a hole to him, nothing more.

He pulls out and lets you gasp another breath before he's shoving himself back in, hands moving back to hold your head firmly as he fucks your face. You don't move - you don't need to; he does all the work as he drags your head back and forth along his cock, hitting the back of your throat over and over again until you're gagging and practically sobbing for air. Your knees ache against the concrete floor and you know you'll have bruises tomorrow, know that you probably won't be able to swallow properly for a few days either. Somehow, you don't really care.

When he's gotten his fill he yanks himself out and allows you to catch your breath for a few seconds, throat constricting around nothing while you choke and gasp.

"Stand up," he orders, and even though you're still gasping for air you manage to bring yourself back up, legs shaking. Saliva drips down your chin, drooling from your mouth in long strands, but with your hands tied you can't make any attempt to clean yourself up - he probably wouldn't want you to anyway.

His wide palms are suddenly on your hips, and he picks you up and places you on top of the work bench with minimal effort, arms bulging. You're completely naked now save for your ripped tights while he's still fully clothed, dripping cock still peeking out past his zipper, covered in your saliva. He steps between your legs and pushes your thighs open, then slips inside of you once again in one short push, making you yelp.

"Oh, please," he grumbles, gripping your hips tightly and pulling your bare body taut against him, head hitting his chest, "We both know you can take it."

It's not like you have any other choice at this point. He fucks you harder than he had before, now that he has easier access, can pull you so firmly against him that his entire length is continuously swallowed up entirely by your dripping pussy. His nails dig into your skin as his cock fucks up against your cervix over and over, so relentless it's almost painful. It's overwhelming how huge he is, not just his cock but his body in general, the way he towers over you and watches your expressions as he takes what's now his.

"Poor little thing," he mumbles, bringing one of his hands up to thumb the tears on your face, "Never been so full, huh? It's okay, shhh," his finger finds your lips and pushes against them almost mockingly, like he's chastising you, "Shhh, this is what you asked for, remember? S'what you wanted." You shake your head but he just nods, "Yeah, it is. You wanted that cock and now you're gettin' it."

Suddenly you're being lifted from the workbench, carried in his embrace with his cock still buried deep inside. You cry out, wrists straining against the ropes, itching to wrap your arms around his neck and hold yourself up with more stability. His arms come up to stretch along the expanse of your back, holding you still and pulling you even closer. As if on instinct your legs bend upwards to wrap around his waist, curling around his lower back while he pistons inside of you without restraint, without mercy.

"Fuck," you almost scream, feeling the rough denim of his jeans scratching against your ass, the heaviness of his balls slapping against you over and over again, "Fuckfuckfuck!"

"Yeah, there she is, there's that little slut," he says, a smile spreading across his face, voice somehow calm despite the fact that he's pounding into you over and over, "Nothin' like gettin' fucked stupid to sort ya out, huh? Needed to be punished, didn't you, sweetheart?"

You don't answer, can't answer, eyes rolling back as he fucks you with abandon. Of course it's not a surprise when he lands a hard spank against your ass, grips your cheek tightly in his palm and growls roughly in your ear, "Answer me, little girl."

"Yes," you force yourself to gasp out, head tilting back, "Yes sir, yes."

"S'right," he mutters, and you suddenly feel the pads of his fingers against your clit, rubbing at an aggressively fast pace that sends depraved noises spitting past your lips, "Come on that cock, tighten up that little pussy even more for me, baby, come on."

It only takes seconds for him to make you come, your eyes rolling back as your body shakes and writhes in his grasp. He doesn't slow his movements, keeps fucking you deep and hard as your legs loosen at his waist and you flop like a ragdoll in his arms.

"Chokin' that dick," he murmurs, "Had so many cocks in this little hole and you're still the tightest thing I've fucked," his brow furrows as he watches your face, watches as your eyes flutter open and your jaw slackens, "And what about your other hole, baby?" You feel one of his fingers prod against your asshole, circle the rim as he continues to bounce you up and down, "Ever had a cock in there?"

You tense up a little in his embrace, eyes widening. At your reaction he slows his movements, still holding you upright and allowing you to just sit on his cock for a moment while he continues to prod your asshole, "I'll take that as a no," he mutters, "Think my cock'll fit up there?"

"It won't," you whisper immediately, shaking your head.

He assesses your expression, eyes trailing up and down your face calculatingly, like he's weighing the pros and cons. Your heart stutters in your chest and you feel that fear from earlier slowly begin to creep back into your psyche, hands shaking under the rope.

"I won't," he states, and relief floods through your body; you relax in his embrace, becoming aware again of his cock still buried deep inside you. He very carefully prods the tip of his index finger inside your asshole and your eyes go wide again, mouth opening in protest. "Yet," he amends, smiling coldly at you, "I won't yet. Not today."

He pulls his finger out and walks with you to the work bench again, places you down gentler than before and peers at you with something in his gaze that you can't place, a curiosity that wasn't there before. It's gone in an instant though, and then he's fucking into you again without warning, gripping tight to your hips and slamming back and forth until you see stars.

"You thought this'd be so funny, didn't you?" he growls, looking at you again with that detached contempt, black eyes locked with yours. He brings his hand down and starts rubbing your clit again, not caring that you only just came a moment ago. "Thought you'd come here, have your fun, and leave again. But it's not so funny anymore, is it? Huh? Is it funny?"

"N-no," you gasp out, overstimulated to the point of even more tears as you squirm and writhe on the work bench, pussy aching from the insistent way he's pounding you and the relentless rubbing of his fingers against your clit.

"S'the last time you show up here tellin' lies," he mutters, "Understand me? Any time you come into my house from now on you're gettin' fucked, got it?"

"Y-yes," you cry, hands futilely attempting to ball into fists behind your back, and he shakes his head.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir!" you scream it, and just as the words pass your lips he stills inside of you, cock twitching as he starts to come. Your eyes go wide, mouth dropping open as his hand sends you into another climax just as he reaches his. Your head falls against his chest and you hear him groan above you, feel the way his cock pulsates and throbs and spits his cum in long and heavy spurts. Your thighs twitch and you feel his hand at your back, pulling you in close as he cups the back of your head.

You stay like that for a moment without speaking, your heavy breaths the only sound in the garage other than the rain now pelting heavily against the door. You swear you can hear his heartbeat.

"Good little girl, warmin' my cock," he murmurs in your ear, and you're still catching your breath, eyes closed, sobs wracking from your throat repeatedly. "Full o'me, huh? You feel all that, baby?"

You can only nod against his chest, wrists still straining against the rope as your toes curl somewhere below you and your body continues to shake. His cum settles warmly deep inside and your eyes roll back a bit when he pushes in further, like he's trying to keep it inside for as long as he can.

"Guess I found a new little cum dumpster, huh?" he whispers, carding his fingers through your hair, "I'll have to say thank you to your friends, or -" he pauses thoughtfully for a moment, "maybe I'll just have to send 'em a little message back with you."

You pull your face back from his chest, peering up at him with tired confusion. He reaches down and pulls out one of the drawers of the work bench, coming back up with a sharpie. You watch with fluttering lashes, unable to stop him - and not really wanting to - as he uncaps the marker and pushes your hair out of the way to write something across your chest, the cold tip making you jolt slightly.

"Shh," he murmurs, "It's okay, I'll untie ya in a sec."

It doesn't take him very long to finish writing whatever it is on your skin, and then he's slowly pulling his cock out of you. You whimper at the loss, thighs twitching as you peer down and watch his softening length slip past your hole, followed by a steady stream of his cum. He quickly reaches up and pushes what he can back inside, thumbing it back in carefully while the reality of what's just happened really begins to settle. You just let a man in his fifties tie you up, use you, come inside you, and write on your chest.

"Can't have all that slippin' out yet," he mutters, "Now, what can we use?" His eyes dart up to the shelves above you and he reaches up to grab something; when his hand comes back down you see the pocket flashlight from earlier, see the slightly flared base and know almost immediately what he's planning on using it for.

For some reason - whatever reason it is that you stayed here after he gave you an out, whatever reason you really came here in the first place - you don't protest.

He brings the flashlight downwards and quickly removes his hand from your pussy to replace it with the wide end, slipping it inside with only minimal resistance. You whimper and he hushes you, brushing his nose against yours as he assesses his handiwork.

"That should do it," he murmurs, then peers back up at you and pushes some stray hair out of your face "You keep that in there 'til you get home, okay?" His eyes have softened a bit, looking more similar to the way they did when you first showed up - is this the real him? You honestly have no idea.

You don't say anything, just nod slowly, feeling the anxiety from earlier begin to sink in yet again. How are you going to get home when you have no clothes? How are you going to explain to your friends what happened? How can you tell them - or show them - what you let him do to you?

These questions are clearly none of his concern. You watch as he backs up and gestures for you to stand with him; you do, with beyond shaky legs and the cold metal of the flashlight between your thighs.

"Turn around," he orders.

You feel him untie the rope from your wrists, essentially ending your time here - whatever it even was. It somehow doesn't feel real. You let them hang limply at your sides, feeling embarrassment flood your cheeks as you turn back around to look at him. He's watching you with a smirk, arms crossed - his dick is back in his jeans. He looks no different than he had when you arrived.

"Now get the fuck out," he says, dark eyes glinting once again under the flickering fluorescents, "before I change my mind."

The air is still chilly. The road is still wet. But thankfully, there are no cars.

You don't know how you manage to get home without anyone seeing you - hunched over, naked in the darkness, avoiding the streetlights, trying to ignore the ache between your legs and the icy intrusiveness of the flashlight still lodged inside of you - but you do. Your palms are sweaty again, heart pounding at the thought of your friends coming to greet you at the door, for the shock and confusion and screaming to begin - but that doesn't happen.

The moment you're back in the house you pull a jacket down from the coat rack and cover yourself, tiptoeing past the living room and waiting to be accosted by the friends who put you in this situation to begin with. Instead, they're nowhere to be seen. You hear the faint echo of laughter from the kitchen, hear the sounds of glass clattering and a fridge being shut. It's like they've already forgotten you even left, like the game meant nothing, and they've already found something new to entertain them, something better.

As if your futile attempt at getting a kiss on the cheek from Joel Miller is already something lost in the past.

And, you think, as you shakily climb the stairs and creep into the bathroom, tear the jacket from your shoulders and stare at your bare chest in the bathroom mirror, see the dark permanent lines that read TRUTH OR DARE...

Maybe that's how it should be.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*

4K notes · View notes

bratbarzal · 2 months ago

Text

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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more-hysteria-things · 3 months ago

Note

BEGGING FOR SOME LIKE JACK FLUFF FROM LIKE A ROUGH DAY ON SET AND HIM JUST BEING SWEET TO US!! (my first scenario🥳)

ROUGH DAY

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jack champion x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it’s one of those days on set, and jack is not having it. even worse that it’s his birthday, the day when it’s supposed to be fun and carefree. then, you come along to truly show how much he means to you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none! just tooth rotting fluff :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,224

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: FIRST JACK FIC LFG.

also, since this is my other account for non-sturniolo fics i’m still putting the same tag list. if you would like to not get tagged for this blog, just let me know!

shoutout to bbg @venusbabysblog for helping me get started🥹

𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 blessing. it’s a job where you have great opportunities to meet amazing people and be in hit films, but sometimes it’s a struggle. jack opens the door to his trailer with a clenched jaw, shutting the door as he looks around. his eyebrows twitch in confusion, noticing how you’re not in sight.

your boyfriend loves to bring you along to wherever he goes for filming. one reason being that he honestly can’t live without you, but also because you’re his biggest fan and will support him through anything. usually, you’d be watching him act from afar or you’d be waiting in his trailer by watching TV or keeping yourself occupied in general. however, you’re nowhere to be seen.

he’s on a long break until later tonight, which annoys him. he just wants this day to be over. “y/n?” he calls out, peeking his head into the small bedroom. alas, you’re not there.

alarms start to go off in his head, although it’s silly. you can’t really go anywhere, but since you’re not in your usual spot, the caring boyfriend in him makes him worry that something bad has happened. especially since you didn’t text him that you were going somewhere or anything.

then, a giggle is heard along with the opening of his trailer door, and he turns around to face the noise. he takes a small sigh of relief when he sees you beaming from ear to ear holding a present bag.

while in the middle of a scene, jack texted you about the day he’s having—lines he couldn’t nail, and a director who seemed impossible to please. you frown slightly when you see his semi-disgruntled face, shuffling over to him excitedly to wrap your arms around his body in an embrace he desperately needs. he exhales deeply, bends down to nuzzle his face into your neck, and kisses it softly.

“sorry, i was hoping i’d be back before you were, but your mom and i got stuck in traffic,” you say in his chest before pulling away after long seconds. trying to make the atmosphere more positive, you smile and extend your arm with the bag in hand. “happy birthday!”

the smallest smile appears on his face, grabbing your hand to head over to the leather couch to sit down. he places the bag onto the floor, removing the tissue inside of it to reveal his presents. his eyes widen in surprise, seeing more than he thought you’d get him. “you didn’t have to do all of this...” he says, a small blush forming on his cheeks.

he pulls out the first thing that sits on top of the rest, which is a homemade birthday card out of construction paper in his favorite color. he lets out a chuckle as he looks at the front of it, seeing two drawn stick figures that are supposed to be you and him holding hands with the title in big writing: HAPPY BIRTHDAY •ᴗ•

opening the card, there’s a bunch of words scribbled on the right side.

jack,

*queue song* happy birthday to you!

i am so incredibly proud of you watching the way you chase your dreams. here’s to many more birthdays, memories, and quiet moments in between the chaos. no matter how many lights and cameras around, you’ll always just be jack to me. the one who laughs too loud, holds me close, and somehow manages to make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.

i’m so grateful to be apart of your story.

always, y/n ❤︎

p.s. like what your name implies, you are indeed a champion.

his heart jumps with joy, closing the note and leaning in to peck you on the nose. your face turns red as you try not to beam with happiness, tilting your head to the bag. “there’s still a lot more.”

he nods, placing the card aside as he grabs a leather journal, specifically personalized for him. the border of it is embroidered with eye-catching detail, his initials JC in big cursive letters in the middle. you know jack sometimes likes to scribble lines down in between takes in a way to remember, or something to put his ideas in for fun. he flips through the pages rapidly, the gust of air flowing on his face as he smells the paper and leather mixed.

you watch his every move, nibbling on your bottom lip excitedly when he pulls out a small, navy blue box. inside of it is a chained necklace with a small pendant of a waxing crescent. the moon phase the day he was born.

scratching the back of your neck nervously, you speak. “this one’s a little girly…” you trail off. “you don’t have to wear it, you can hang it up or something for decoration. i just thought it was pretty.”

he nudges your arm with his elbow. “stop that. it’s beautiful; i love it.”

jack carefully takes it out of the box, undoing the chain and reaching behind his neck to clip it. the length is perfect, and the accessory oddly suits him. “thank you.” he says softly, running his hand over the moon and reaching into the bag once more.

this time, he pulls out two things. another book along with a film camera on top of it tied in ribbon so both items can stick together. while untying it, he notices the scrapbook underneath.

THE STORY OF US…

he glances at you as he starts to look into it. the pages are filled with film photos, ticket stubs, and little mementos from your favorite times together. you’d written little captions under each, capturing inside jokes and sweet moments. it was something he could flip through on hard days.

however, each left page is blank. “you can add to it whenever you have the time. it takes two people to make a love story, you know.” you explain, feeling somewhat cheesy and cringy at the saying, but you mean it.

last but not least, the last few items are snacks. homemade cookies, energy bars, and even a small container of his favorite food.

he feels overwhelmed by all of the gifts but in a good way. nobody has ever shown him this much adoration before, and it’s obvious how much he means to you. “y/n.” your name rolls perfectly off of his tongue, his eyes not leaving the presents now scattered on the couch cushion. “i love it all so much. genuinely, thank you.”

you place your hands on the sides of his neck so he can look at you, kissing him full of love. he cherishes you, and he couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend. he’s always so grateful that he met you that time in his hometown. you made his 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐘 turn around completely.

“how’d you even do all of this?” he adds, starting to feel dumbfounded about how you did all of this under his nose without him knowing.

“i don’t kiss and tell.” you say with a smirk. “but also with the help of your mom.”

laughing, he grunts as he lays to rest his head on your stomach, your hands finding way into his wavy hair. “i’m so in love with you.” he mumbles, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it.

best. birthday. ever.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @freshsturns @etershine @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @deareststurns @starz4star

#jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion imagine #jack champion fanfic #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #scream #scream six #scream 6 #ghostface #{ 𑁍ࠬܓ } : requests!

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hiitsm · 7 months ago

Text

All I want is to have some Peace, with You.

You find yourself wrestling with recurring negative flashbacks from your childhood, unsure how to broach the subject with your girlfriend, consumed by fear of her reaction.

All I want is to have some Peace, with You is for 18+ only.

PTSD, Childhood trauma, Smut, Fluff

Important note:

This piece is deeply personal to me, drawn from my own journey through PTSD. It's important to note that everyone's experience with PTSD is unique; what I've shared here is just one perspective.

I'm incredibly proud of everyone navigating their own path through this journey, no matter where they are along the way. And want to give a shoutout to those who support their loved ones through it all-it means more than words can say.

Sharing this piece is a vulnerable step for me, so I ask that we all approach it with kindness, no matter our thoughts or opinions.

Just before you met your girlfriend, you were exhausted. Your body constantly felt tired, and you couldn't quite figure out why. The doctor advised you to wait and see if things worsened, suggesting you return if they did. Although it didn't worsen, your body remained tense all the time, draining your energy.

To you, life felt monotonous. You woke up, had breakfast, went to work, and often conversed with your parents, where your mother would eventually get upset over something small you did or said. Then you'd have dinner and go to bed.

It was the same routine, week after week. Despite this routine, you couldn't understand why your body constantly felt on edge, always tense and drained of energy.

Then you met your girlfriend. One rare evening, you decided to go to a bar in the center of Barcelona, and she happened to be there. She offered you a drink, and the conversation flowed effortlessly. You couldn't quite grasp how such a beautiful girl would notice you, let alone want to talk with you.

Your body completely relaxed when you talked with her. Every time she chuckled while sharing a childhood story, you felt at ease without realizing it. You were so captivated that you didn't notice how much your body was unwinding, as if to say that everything would be okay, even though you weren't sure what "okay" was anymore. You had become so accustomed to the tension that it felt normal, which is why you didn't recognize the change.

When you went home that night, you couldn't help but feel light. For the first time, life seemed to have more purpose, all because of her. She was intoxicating in the best way possible. The conversation had been wonderful, and she looked so beautiful. You exchanged phone numbers, and just as you were lying in bed, she texted you. That's when you realized she was one of the greatest footballers of all time: Alexia Putellas. But you didn't care about her awards, even though they were quite impressive. You cared about her as a person and were so glad you got to know her without any preconceived notions.

Your first date together came swiftly. Despite not consciously noticing the change in your body when you were with her, whether in person or talking on the phone, one thing was unmistakable: she made you feel cared for and loved, and you reciprocated with the same warmth. You made an effort to support her during her matches, even though the loud environment and crowds weren't really your thing.

After a particularly hard-won victory for her team, Alexia invited you to dinner at her mother's place to meet her and her sister. Nervous as you were, you couldn't say no.

That's when you finally noticed a change in your body, but it wasn't the positive relaxation you felt when you were with your girlfriend; this change was unexpected and negative. One moment, you were holding your girlfriend's hand under the table, laughing at something her kind mother had said, and the next, you accidentally knocked over a glass, causing it to shatter on the ground. Alexia's family reacted warmly and kindly, reassuring you that they had plenty more glasses, but you couldn't hear them over the ringing in your ears and the racing of your heart.

Suddenly, a flashback hit you. A memory of your younger self, maybe around eight years old, dropping a glass and your mother reacting with intense upset, even physical punishment. You had buried that memory deep within, but now it resurfaced with startling clarity. You found yourself in shock, unable to even apologize to Eli before Alexia squeezed your hand under the table, grounding you instinctively. Eli was kind and forgiving, but the tension in your body remained.

Despite Alexia's loving gestures and efforts to ease your discomfort, the tension persisted throughout the dinner.

As days passed, you found yourself struggling with daily tasks more than usual. Simple things like focusing at work or even enjoying a meal became daunting. The tension in your body seemed to escalate, and more flashbacks from your childhood would unexpectedly flood your mind.

You hadn't yet spoken to Alexia about what was happening. In truth, you didn't fully understand it yourself. The memories that resurfaced were fragments of a past you had buried deep, and confronting them felt overwhelming.

One evening, when Alexia came over to your apartment she noticed that you hadn't done the things you normally would have. The dishes were piled up, and the laundry was untouched. She could see that something wasn't right.

You had experienced more vivid flashbacks of your mother physically hurting you in the past, but when Alexia asked if you were okay, you hesitated. Instead of sharing the truth, you told her you were feeling sick. Without a moment's hesitation, Alexia took charge, helping you into bed and preparing homemade soup to comfort you.

As she sat by your side, her concern was palpable. When she gently inquired about your parents, your body tensed involuntarily. You had been avoiding your parents for a while now, a fact she wasn't aware of. Once again, you chose to lie, deflecting her concern with a half-truth.

The next day, as Alexia headed off to training and you had a rare morning off, you found yourself overwhelmed with emotions. But amidst the turmoil, the strongest feeling was guilt. Guilt over lying to your girlfriend. It wasn't about the physical pain you had endured in the past, nor the mental scars left by your parents' admonitions to keep quiet about it. No, what weighed heaviest on your mind was deceiving Alexia.

You spent the morning wrestling with your thoughts, debating whether to confide in her. Would she stay if you told her the truth? You couldn't bear the thought of losing her. The fear of her rejection paralyzed you, yet the burden of keeping these secrets from her felt increasingly heavy.

Throughout the day, memories resurfaced, each one a testament to the walls you had built around your past. But Alexia had breached those walls with her kindness and genuine concern. As you recalled her comforting presence and unwavering support, a flicker of hope emerged. The hope that she might understand, that she might stay.

But it wasn't easy. Every time you tried to open up, the words faltered. You could see the concern in your girlfriend's eyes, her worry for you evident even though she didn't fully understand the source. Her deep love for you acted as a balm, soothing many wounds, but in her absence, the shadows returned.

When she wasn't around, the flashbacks intensified. The memories you had buried resurfaced with a vengeance, overwhelming you with panic attacks. The tight knot in your throat, the trembling in your legs, the waves of nausea, they all surfaced when she wasn't there to anchor you.

It took time for these panic attacks to manifest fully, but now they were a part of your reality. They reminded you of the unresolved pain and fear that lingered beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged and healed.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration and self-blame. Here you were, a grown adult, yet unable to carry on with your day when the flashbacks hit. You questioned yourself relentlessly. Why couldn't you move past the memories of your childhood? There were surely others who had been through worse. Why did these emotions surface now, when you had found happiness with your girlfriend by your side?

These thoughts stirred a mix of emotions within you. Anger, confusion, and a deep-seated sense of inadequacy. You berated yourself for being so emotional, for letting these past experiences affect your present life. In response, you pushed your emotions down once again, burying them beneath a facade of composure.

Whenever you felt overwhelmed by negative emotions, you found solace in kissing your girlfriend. Her kisses had a way of making your mind go pleasantly fuzzy, and you knew they had the same effect on her. It wasn't necessarily the most practical solution, but it worked, if only for a fleeting moment.

You would kiss her softly, savoring the sensation of her lips against yours, a reminder of the love you felt. Every time of day, you couldn't help but tell her how beautiful she looked, still amazed that such a radiant woman had chosen to be with you. Your kisses lingered, slowly exploring each other, shedding any barriers between you.

You would gently undress her, admiring her soft, full form, and your hands found their way to her curves, losing yourself in the pleasure of her touch and the sweet sound of her moans. With tender care, you would lift her, laying her down on the bed, whispering words of love and admiration, reaffirming how much she meant to you.

As you kissed your way down her body, you would marvel at her beauty, taking in the sight of her soft arousal. You circled her clit with gentle pressure, lost together in the waves of pleasure. Making love to her was a slow, deliberate act, a tribute to her kindness and support, unaware of how deeply she touched your heart and healed your soul.

Until one night, your mind was besieged by flashbacks, but you refrained from seeking solace in kisses because you respected her need for rest, always mindful of her boundaries. As you grappled with your thoughts alone, you recognized that continuing this way wasn't sustainable, prompting you to take action.

Sleep had become elusive, and after a particularly taxing day, you pushed yourself to seek help. The journey led to an unexpected diagnosis of PTSD, a revelation that caught you off guard. To you, the symptoms had felt like a part of daily life, a burden you had unknowingly carried for so long.

You lay on your side, your back turned towards your girlfriend, feeling the weight of tension in your body and the ceaseless churn of thoughts in your mind. It was important to you that she got the rest she deserved after a challenging game. Meanwhile, she lay on her back beside you, still wide awake, sensing the emotional distance between you both.

You knew she was overthinking it, and despite your efforts to suppress it, the need to unburden yourself grew stronger. "Amor," you whispered softly into the quiet of the room. Before she could respond, you found yourself blurting out, "I want to tell you something, but I'm afraid you'll leave," your voice catching as tears welled up.

Your girlfriend shifted closer, wrapping her arms around you, her front pressing against your back. "I won't leave," she reassured you, her own heart fluttering with anxiety. Her embrace was a testament to her unwavering support, a gentle reminder that you were not alone in this moment of vulnerability.

You broke down in tears, turning to bury your face in her neck, unable to stop sobbing. "I lied to you, and I'm so sorry, but I didn't know how to tell you," you managed to choke out between sobs. Your girlfriend held you tightly, her hand gently running through your hair in a soothing gesture, trying to comfort you through your tears.

"I've been having these flashbacks from my childhood, and my mother wasn't kind," you finally confessed, the words heavy with pain. Her response was a gentle whisper against your ear, "I'm so sorry to hear that, mi amor," her voice filled with compassion, causing another wave of tears to escape you. "I didn't realize... I had buried it all, but it's all coming back," you hiccuped, the weight of the memories overwhelming.

"It's coming back, and they says it's PTSD," you admitted, feeling vulnerable yet relieved to finally share this burden with her. She continued to hold you close, recognizing the emotions that had been building up over time. Her presence and understanding were a source of comfort as you let yourself cry in her arms.

"Who says that, mi vida?" she asked softly, her voice free of judgment.

"My therapist," you replied, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. Alexia's response was a gentle sigh of relief upon learning that you had been seeking help from a professional.

"Aren't you mad?" you asked cautiously, uncertain of how she might react.

"I don't understand how it's PTSD," you continued, struggling with the concept because you had always associated PTSD with a single traumatic event.

"It's okay, mi amor," Alexia reassured you tenderly, her voice soothing. "This stems from your childhood, from being in a toxic environment for years. I'm so proud of you for taking this step and seeking the help you deserve from a professional. PTSD is just a diagnosis—it won't define who you are, I promise you that."

After Alexia's reassuring words, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders, if only slightly. Her acceptance and understanding were more than you had dared hope for. You turned to face her, eyes filled with gratitude and a hint of disbelief.

"I... I didn't know how you'd react," you admitted quietly, your voice still trembling with vulnerability.

Alexia gently cupped your face in her hands, her touch grounding you in the moment. "Mi amor, I'm here for you. Always," she said earnestly, her eyes reflecting unwavering support.

You leaned into her touch, feeling a rush of relief and gratitude. "Thank you," you whispered, overwhelmed by her unconditional love.

"I want to understand," Alexia continued softly, her thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. "If you're comfortable, tell me more about what you're going through. I'm here to listen."

You hesitated, grappling with the fear of burdening her with your pain. But her patient gaze encouraged you to share. "It's like... these memories keep coming back, and they feel so real," you began haltingly. "I thought I had buried them, but they're here, haunting me."

Alexia nodded thoughtfully, her expression one of deep empathy. "It must be incredibly difficult," she murmured, her fingers gently tracing soothing patterns on your back.

"It is," you admitted, feeling the weight of years of suppressed emotions. "But having you here... it makes a difference. Knowing that I can lean on you."

"You can always lean on me," Alexia affirmed, pulling you into a tender embrace. "We'll face this together, mi amor."

As you rested in her arms, the knot of fear and uncertainty began to loosen. For the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope. A sense that with Alexia by your side, you could navigate the stormy seas of your past and find peace.

The therapy sessions had become a regular part of your life, a deliberate effort to untangle the tightly wound threads of your past. Through EMDR, you revisited memories long buried, each session leaving you emotionally drained yet oddly liberated. But it wasn't just the memories that haunted you; it was the residual effects that surfaced unexpectedly.

One evening, as you strolled through a crowded plaza in Barcelona, a sudden movement caught your eye, triggering an involuntary flinch. Alexia noticed immediately, her concern etched on her face.

"It's okay, mi amor," she murmured softly, drawing you closer as you continued walking. "I'm here."

Grateful for her understanding, you nodded. These moments were unpredictable, flinches at sudden movements, a racing heart at unexpected sounds but Alexia's presence was a steady anchor. She knew about the therapy, about the fragments of your past you were piecing together, and she didn't flinch from your moments of vulnerability.

As you settled into a cozy café, Alexia reached across the table, her fingers intertwining with yours. "You're doing so well," she reassured you, her voice unwavering. "Facing all of this takes incredible strength."

You managed a small smile, feeling the weight of her words and the warmth of her touch. With Alexia, there was no need to explain yourself, she understood without words, offering solace in her silent support.

One evening, as you and Alexia were relaxing together at home, she moved suddenly to hand you a book, and you flinched involuntarily. It shocked you because you knew deep down that Alexia would never hurt you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."

Alexia's heart broke as she immediately took you in her arms, holding you close. "Shh, mi amor," she whispered softly, her voice laced with understanding and concern. "It's okay, I know you didn't mean it."

"I just... I just want to have some peace with you," you sobbed, your words choked with emotion. Alexia held you tighter, gently rocking you as you released the pent-up sorrow and fear.

As your tears subsided, Alexia continued to hold you close, her touch a soothing balm to your troubled soul. Feeling a surge of gratitude and love for her unwavering support, you gently pulled back to look into her eyes.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice trembling with emotion. "For understanding, for being here."

Alexia smiled tenderly, brushing a tear from your cheek. "I love you," she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity.

Moved by her words and overwhelmed by the depth of your feelings, you reached up to cup her face in your hands. "I love you too," you replied softly, your heart swelling with love for this extraordinary woman who had changed your life.

In a spontaneous gesture of affection, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to hers, a kiss filled with gratitude, love, and a promise of healing together. Alexia responded eagerly, her arms wrapping around you as she deepened the kiss, both of you melting into each other's embrace.

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso one shot #alexia putellas #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

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skyfallscotland · 8 months ago

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Ok so Rebecca did a one hour panel today in Sydney with Lynette Noni hosting, where she asked questions and then they opened it to fans. I've kind of summarised the things I haven't seen mentioned over and over, but I don't frequent the subreddit anymore or use TikTok, so there might be overlap. In any case, it's long. Settle in. I've sectioned it into plot/character relevant first, then themes and interesting facts about her and her writing. Basically, you all came with me. 💗

• In book three (and every book thereafter) we'll be going to more and more new places. She specifically worded it as "watching the map expand" whether that's significant or not, I don't know. (I was thinking Isle Kingdoms for OS, but maybe that's just my wishful thinking).

• She implied Jack will have a reason (explained) for uh...being a power-hungry prick? lol

• She's hella defensive of Dain, which I love. #DainApologistsClub 😌 Some highlights include:

"You guys give Dain so much shit for the same thing Xaden does. You really do and you're so fast to forgive Xaden and not Dain. Why? Is it because he's hot?"

And, "when push comes to shove, all Dain did—yes he violated her boundaries, as does Xaden—but all he did was trust his dad when his best friend no longer spoke to him. That's it."

"When Dain looks at her (in the interrogation chamber) and says 'if you had just told me, none of this would have happened', he's not just talking about the interrogation, he's talking about Liam, he's talking about if she had just trusted him (in Fourth Wing) it never would have happened." 😢

• She was asked about Liam's appearance in the interrogation chamber and definitively put to rest any signet theories involving that. "She's so alone in that moment and...I don't read fan theories but sometimes they reach my ears; she's completely disconnected from her magic in that moment, she can't even reach out for Tairn or Andarna, which are the bonds that are actually most important to her. She can't reach out for Xaden. And that's the one person who would have prevented that from happening the last year, so it's natural that's who her mind would summon."

• She's thought about a spin-off series, but she's just trying to survive this series.

• Someone asked her if there'd be any redemption and romance for Jack Barlowe and honestly, thanks guys, I don't think she's ever coming back to this country 💀 ("Are you getting enough sleep? Uh...I mean, from his prison cell maybe? No.")

• Someone asked "what is Garrick's signet and why hasn't it been shown yet?" (shoutout to this girl, she's the real MVP) to which Rebecca said "it's very much in book three, I love it."

• Someone asked about the orange dragons and unpredictability re: Amber, Jack, Varrish and then Imogen and Brennan. Rebecca said some dragons might look for traits like their own and some look for balance because it's a partnership; and that Brennan as a strategist needed that little bit of unpredictability in his life (lol, I think he got it).

• She didn't always plan for Violet to have two dragons. Originally it was going to be one (Tairn) and the editor had hoped that she would sway towards a weaker, smaller dragon and she thought that was a little too close to Abraxos in ToG, and so they compromised and gave her both. She also went on to say she doesn't like overpowered heroines and since Tairn is extremely powerful, Andarna balanced that out. (I'm not...I'm not sure how that works out? But that's what was said.)

• We are definitely going to find out more about the original six (and Lynette asked if that was a spin-off possibility and was shushed, so she's thought about it at least, but I get the idea she's thought about a lot of possibilities 😂)

• There's no timeframe for the release of the final two books.

• Someone asked if Violet's dad was Malek to which she was kind of shocked. He's not a god, guys. And low-key I JUST WANT TO KNOW HIS NAME. 😤

• On Sgaeyl: "You do (get more of her) but holy crap is she pissed. So—I'll tell you that about Onyx Storm—she is really, really mad at Xaden and she's not exactly speaking to him at the moment. So it's hard for her to speak into that bond when she's not speaking to him." 💔

• She was asked about the Violet dated Halden theory (which was fucking hilarious because the poor girl misspoke and asked if Xaden dated the prince and we were all really confused about which TikToks the poor thing had seen (note to self: consider cam/xaden), anyway after we got to the bottom of that, Rebecca replied, "I think you should read the third book." Which I'm taking to mean, the man is making a damn appearance and we're gonna find out for ourselves 👀 Hey, if I'm lucky maybe we'll even find out his surname

• Finally she said she has EP on the Amazon series, they've all been exceptionally protective of it and that she's happy with how it's going (they're not near casting yet and she doesn't want to really comment on that ever, to leave each role open to as diverse a cast as possible). She said the production team has come to the signings in LA to meet readers and see what they love and are passionate about when it comes to the series to make sure that's honoured.

"Like I mean, I've seen certain...like what can I say without getting tackled to the ground? Let's just say they've already taken steps to make sure that what you guys love about the story is envisioned and that it's not run amok. And I'm very happy with it, they're super protective of it." Which could just be me reading into it, but the first place my brain went was the dragons 👀🐉 and the CGI or whatever.

• She was asked about where the inspiration for the universe came from and she said that when her Entangled decided they were going to do romantasy they asked her for five pitches and Fourth Wing was one of them (she won't say what the others were because she might still write them someday). She said she likes the fated mates trope but she wondered what that would look like if the dragons were the ones mated, not the humans and the humans who couldn't stand each other were forced to be around each other because of this.

• Her first ever book was romantasy but it didn't sell

• She's never really written enemies to lovers before.

• She likes found family themes because she was raised in a military family and moved around a lot, so that makes it hard to keep in touch with your extended family, and after she married her husband and became a military wife, it was their found family that was there for her—it was her found family who helped her move her house, who sat with her when her husband was injured in Iraq, etc, so she thinks it's very important to show that your family is also the people you choose and that can be just as strong as any blood tie.

• She was asked (by Lynette) why she wanted to show death and the reality of war and she said, "I've been surrounded by it. My husband's been at war since 2003, he spent 22 years in the army, first as a 19 Delta cavalry scout and then ten years as an apache pilot and we buried our friends. And I saw what it did to him, and I saw what it did to our friends, I saw what it did to our children, to us, and I love being able to examine it from a fantasy perspective just because I think fantasy gives us a unique environment from which to critique our own world by viewing it through the lens of another. And I've always delved into those themes as to why we do this to each other and where is there hope to stop it?"

• As an author her favourite scenes in Fourth Wing were the dagger stealing scene (very important to their chemistry and romantic development—"she's the only person he's taught ever, how to actually kill him") and the first kiss scene.

In Iron Flame it was the interrogation scene and how that ends with Dain and Xaden and everything coming together.

When asked about a similar scene from Onyx Storm that elicited the same strong emotion from her she said "you're not gonna like it" and that's it 💀

• She would consider writing fantasy again after she's done with the Empyrean world, maybe one of her other pitches, but she won't truly think about it until she's survived this one.

• She spoke about the "kill your darlings" writing advice and how if you love a scene but it doesn't move the plot, you've gotta cut it, and how she did that with the final scene in Fourth Wing, which was originally 7k words of Violet POV pulling information out of Xaden.

• When asked about fan theories she actually said something I found a little sad. "I don't listen to fan theories. One, I'm not on TikTok—it's a little bit more important for me to be alive than to listen to what other people think they know about me, and two, I don't ever want fan theories to bleed into my writing."

〰️ And that's it! If anyone's going tomorrow, please voice record the whole thing and report back lmao 🙏 🫶🏼

ETA: part two is here, x

#fourth wing #the empyrean #rebecca yarros #fourth wing spoilers #iron flame spoilers #onyx storm #onyx storm theories

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ahappydnp · 1 month ago

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philm club rewatch #1

phil 7/21/12

detailed timestamp notes below the cut but my overall summary thoughts are

you could tell phil was still getting into the groove of liveshows so it's a little awkward and slow going in the first 15 minutes are so with lots of shoutouts and showing the camera random things. liveshows got sooo much better after just a year or so it's fascinating to watch them getting comfortable

mind boggling to think back to a time they were willing to show up to fan meetups and then made a point to state publicly why they weren't there AND share their location so openly constantly (obviously they were about to move but STILL they showed the outside of their flat So Much back then)

the juxtaposition of how naturally comfortable they were with each other (stealing hats, sharing food, having their little jokes and songs) vs. them remembering the chat and having to recalibrate (i don't want to procreate with you)

i'm gonna be sooooo real i still spent the entire hour kicking my legs and twirling my hair and having to pause to compose myself because that's my phil like that was my guy and it brought back all those giddy feelings :3

i love them both so dearly and i love that era despite the bad rep it gets in fandom now because it was also so exciting and new but they were growing up together and taking on the world like 2012 WAS dnp vs. the world and dnp won <3333

0:28- agrees to marry a girl and a boy

1:38- final broadcast from manchester!! moving to london

2:40- stressed bc logistics for moving (he’s trying to be a grown up). interesting that he is taking the reigns on coordinating and not dan

6:27- PIGEON NOISE MY BELOVED

8:50- phil refers to processed ingredients as “skanky stuff”. sure.

11:59- he's gonna put lion in his backpack during the move 😭😭 he doesn’t want to lose him

15:01- dan jumpscare popping into defending phil for not showing up to a meet up

16:21- dan gives him an A star….girl

21:30- american phil i haaaaate it i hate it i hate it

21:57- “everyone just says awkward for everything now” okay this but now everyone says “help??” in the replies of every tweet WHAT DOES IT MEAN???

22:35- cornelia playing harpsichord at phil’s parents

24:42- phil attempts a guest broadcast with a fan and he’s being so cute despite the horrors

28:42- they’re going to see muse again 😭😭

30ish- fanfiction segment i love his brain

33:55- dan gets caught playing gw2 and not packing asdfghjl. omg their apartment is a mess they stress me out

34:39- the way they used to show off their exact locations was truly a time like girl internet safety!!

35:21- he still wants to call his children jack and emily (cuts quickly to mo and slyvester lester joke and i won’t think too hard about what that means with this also being the era of dan being SO deadset on having 2 or 3 children like god they were just babies with dreams)

37:14- phil thinks max the guest is australian and has The Biggest Grin phil you slag ilysm and now he’s promoting him hard lmao

39:57- drawing game. he went too fast i couldn’t keep up so i stopped. unfortunate slur from the chat.

44:38- had to check his tumblr archive to see the kstew gif he mentioned and found a mv a fan did of the manchester flat to i will always love you phil reblogged (phannies never change)

45:27- sneak peak of the “new” apartment WHAT IF I SOBBED!!!! the first london flat…god they had no idea what’s coming and all the things that will happen in that house ;___; living with danisnotonfire who is through that wall and Not Packing (married babies)

46:24- NEW I LOVE YOU FOR THE ILY SPREASHEET FUCK YEAH!!!

46:41- he’s getting a bit annoyed at the go get dan comments and it’s such a specific shift in vibes which makes sense because this was younow and god knows what that chat was also saying

48:57- omg it’s danisnotonfire! what are you doing here get out of my house (you’re the same person dot gif) also sooo funny they already had their sides™️

50:36- that iconic dan hair push up and swoop is simultaneously the most comforting/nostalgic and single most anxiety inducing motion of all time

52ish- they’re sooo low energy in this one but it’s still comforting

53:35- these two…

57:52- phil putting things on dans head because of course he does and taking dans thing because of course he does

58:00- i am not immune to phil in the trapper hat.

58:24- them seeing all the screenshots and immediately making jokes (fun little note for those who don’t know is younow would have a pop up everytime someone took a snapshot so they knew every time they were being archived which had to have been a specific kind of hell and also what a shit feature??) their skin molecules are touching

1:01:48- quite possibly the single most controversial shirt dan has ever owned. people haaaatedddd it for years (now im just soft bc its nostalgic)

1:04:06- dan and alexander mcqueen 4ever truly lmao also phil immediately having an opinion on the one he liked dan in better

1:04:44- "dan played it on repeat all yesterday" “whenever i get sad i listen to it” :(( dan

1:05:15- dans fashion opinions haven’t changed and also the start of them being So conscious of revealing what they spend their money on because fans “didn’t like” when they spent a lot of money on things

1:05:46- we made it an hour before they read a gay comment but he’s handling it better than usual. phil saying “ don’t go there”

1:08:05- dan is STILL yapping about the hat god i love him he simply must elucidate

1:09:29- aweeee a fanboy <333 he’s their love child (except dan reminds phil they’re not down to procreate with each other)

1:10:24- i love that phil has always thrown a random question at people to ease the tension like it’s suuuch a phil thing to ask what your worst fear is when you’re feeling awkward

#philm club #phan #dan and phil

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supermarketbae · 2 years ago

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dom billy punishing you’re being a brat flirting with other guys at a party, he grabs you and shoves you into a closet. It’s really rough hot , and ur both so sweaty and he’s rails his huge thick cock in you. Degrading and praising you. After it’s done you both collapse, cus ur so tired. And he places huge sloppy kisses on your face telling you what a good girl you are, whilst your still shaking from your orgasm.

HEM HeM seeing as it's my **FAVORITE LITTLE REQUESTER**(if there was a way to make 'favorite' more emphasized believe me I WOULD) ig i just have to do a quick little somethin on it (by quick i mean never ending- soul consuming-sending all my brain cells that are in commission to work on it-perhaps multiple chapter-fic) again, I don't make the rules I just work here. (shoutout to @billysbot for literally being the sweetest human!! It's too fun talking to you while i write these funny little fics! (even if you are a tad distracting😏) HAVE THE BEST DAY BB !!) guys please read🙏i went on a half an hour journey to see if the word 'simp' was used back in the 80's

Naughty and Not so Nice

a series

warnings: secret!relationship, P in v smut, degradation, praise, jealous!Billy, Whiny!Billy, Loud!reader, Hopper!reader, choking kink, breeding (ig), semi public sex, idk this whole fic again lmao.

"Tie me up?" you smile as your boyfriend, Billy's hands ghost up your back ever so slightly teasing. "Hargrove, I swear to god don't make me regret liking you!" you laugh as he nimbly tightens the strings of the black corset you wear. "I could never, I'm too amazing." he chuckles coming to nuzzle you from behind breathing in the sweet aroma of your perfume, arms wrapping around your waist possessively. You tsk feigning annoyance, "so cocky baby" you smirk pressing a kiss to his now blushing cheeks. "Shut up." he groans hiding his face in your neck. "We'd better get going darlin'" Billy mumbles to you making no moves towards the door of his room. You groan audibly, "Do we have to?" you whine. You had agreed to go to Tina's Halloween party with Billy. He'd practically begged you to go with him, and who were you to say no.

You knew it was risky wearing semi matching costumes, both of you clad in all black, but what could you say, you longed to be Billy's girl. You wanted everyone to know. Everyone to see that your his. See, the only problem with everyone knowing was your father, Jim Hopper. Needless to say If anyone wanted to get back at you for anything, all they would have to do is tell him you were Hargrove's girl, and you were fucked. You knew the minute that happened you'd be grounded till 55. rolling your eyes at the thought, Billy sighs "I know darlin' but I'd promised some people I'd be there and I'd hate to disappoint." He smirks. "By 'people' do you mean half the high school girls?" you prod giggling "You know me well madam." Billy replies grin boyish. "Attention whore!" you laugh as his hands tickle into your sides and you fall back into him smiling still. "little minx." Billy grumbles kissing your cheek and pulling you to the door.

The party was somewhat fun.However, Billy had disappeared to god knows where. Either way, the food as always, was delicious. The drinks were abundant. It was loud, chaotic, and lively all at the same time. You lean towards Robin to hear her better. "I said," comes her raspy voice. "Do you know if Nancy and Steve are still a thing?" the slight blush on her face makes you smirk "Somebody's intrestedddd in Nancyyyyy" you tease watching her yelp with indignation "Bold of you to assume but ok!" she bites back eyes glittering with amusement "Ohhh you have it bad!" you sing watching Robins face glow deeper red "Shut it! I'll find her myself" she grumbles rolling her eyes at you lovingly. "Good luck!" you shout to her giving her an exaggerated wink and kissy face. You snort as she flips you off, stalking away to find Nancy.

Grimacing at the bitter taste of alcohol in your spiked lemonade you sit back on the couch content, that is, until Jason Carver comes sauntering over. You groan as he smiles down at you scooting the closest he possibly can to you. "What's a pretty girl like you doing by yourself?" he slurs gently to you. You cough aggressively , he positively reeks of alcohol. "Hoping to be near people like you." You state back prettily. The stupid smile on his face only spreads as he lays an arm around you. "We should go out sometime baby, I'd promise I'd make it worth your while." He winks at you cheekily and you giggle swatting him on the arm "You don't mean that!" you say lightly smacking a hand to your mouth to cover your simpering. "I do-" he is leaning closer to your face when he suddenly is yanked away "Get the fuck away from her Carver." Comes the animalistic growl you've come to recognize as your boyfriend.

"Whats'it to you, freak." Apparently, Jason had a death wish today,choosing his words most unwisely. A few people, yourself included gasp as you watch Billy throw Jason off the couch with ease, combat boot coming in contact with the burnette's chest, holding him down. "If you even look at her again. I'll fucking kill you." Billy snarls, voice poisonous. He turns to you possessive gleam evident in his eyes, "get over here." the command sends a shiver down your spine as you get up following him through the crowded room to the upstairs. "The fuck were you playin' at" Billy bites the minute he shuts the door, locking you both into to a tiny bathroom. "You left me. I was bored. He flirted," you say calmly feigning innocence "I don't see the problem, Baby." you say voice seductively low as you inch your hands up his strong frame.

"I guess I have to remind you who you belong to then" he rasps mouth harshly coming to bite at your neck. blatantly marking you. "B-billy-ah-my friends-" You moan as licks a stripe of your neck ferally groaning as he humps into you. "Shut the fuck up-god sweetheart I'm already so hard for you- shoulda-ah-should've fuckin thought of that when you were whoring out for Jason huh?" You mewl at his words eyes rolling back into your head as he clamps a hand over your mouth "c'mon darlin' shut that pretty mouth of yours, d-don't-goddd-don't w-want your friends to hear you moaning my name like a slut huh?" You whimper out muffled as he bends you over the small sink counter, other hand coming to knead into your ass before giving it a rough slap. "Billy~ ohmygod-please babyyy!" you whine as his hands come to play with your hardened nipples. He tsks eyes trailing over your wiggling figure,

"begging me to rail you already love?" Billy mocks as he slowly removes your panties moving your short skirt higher. "So wet already darlin'" Billy keens fingers coming to rub at your swollen clit, you whimper, jolting from the sudden spike in pleasure as he unbuckles his belt, the small clinks of metal sending a shiver down your spine. "Gonna take all of me huh? Pretty fuckin slut. g-good-oh godd-"

You cry out in unison as he thrusts into you, yours loud and perfectly pornographic. "Such a-so tight sweetheart-pretty slutty thing for me yeah?" Billy grunts as you clench around him hand snaking to your hair to pull you back. "Or is it for Jason hmm? you think-ah-fuckin take it darlin' justttt like that- you think he could fuck you like this?" you whimper shaking your head vigorously spasming as he grips your hips slamming them back onto his. "Words, darlin'" Billy huskily mumbles to you. "Nonono j-just you-ah godd Billy so good-just you baby-feels so-ohhh" You cry out, his hand is doing little to muffle your wanton moans now. "Such a slut yeah?-fuck you're milkin' my cock so good baby-good girl such a-ah fuck-good girl." you sob at his words pretty tears streaming down your cheeks "Billy-'m soso sorry baby pleasee I can't s'too good." you slur, you feel like your coming apart at the seams as he rams his thick cock into you. "Awh is my dumb little whore crying for me-such a pretty little thing." He groans as your sobs spike in volume "You can take it darlin', I-oh god baby squeezing me so fucking tight-I know you can take it-so gooodd for me!" Billy purrs to you whimpering.

"Suck 'em, Angel," Billy's fingers hold your mouth open as you moan gratefully, tongue swirling around his digits. "Gotta keep your slutty mouth quiet somehow darlin.'" he chides to your already reeling figure. "f-fuck me Billy P-pleaseee" Your mewl comes out breathy and intelligible as you choke on his fingers. "Ohmygoshd-Billy-mph-Pleaseee-wanna cum!" Billy chuckles as you drool around his finger thumb pad coming to wipe against the bottom of your lip. "droolin'-ah- for me baby?-so-goddd too tight so fuckin tight-such a precious thing." You cling to him as he pushes you closer to the edge. Billy groans tilting his head back, and you wail when his hand comes to play with your already overstimulated clit. "B-Billy~ S-so ohmygmf-I needa cum pleasee-" Billy chuckles darkly "All mine baby-ah-good girl- all fucking mine- so good!" you whine when his thrust grow sporadic, turning your head back, you lock eyes with him, your cock drunk ones coming in contact with his blown pupils, blue completely hidden. "please." you whimper to him. Billy's eyes roll. "God yes, darlin cum for me- all-oh shit darlin' cumming too-oh Goddd." Billy rambles to you pulling you closer as you bawl out his name a final time spasming a final time around his cock, feeling his cum fill you up.

"sosoSO good for me baby, did so good, all mine, all fucking mine darlin'" Billy moans into the shell of your ear softly as you come down from your high. A warm blush fills your cheeks at his praises. You collapse, falling into him. Billy holds you up pressing kisses to your flushed cheeks as you shake, positively scorching from your orgasm. Billy is clinging to you mouthing at any skin he can reach. "love you so much- so fucking much." he slurs out kissing your cheeks again and again. "mmmm love you too baby" you sigh out completely blissed out. Cuddling closer into him. Unaware of Robin searching for you outside...

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JUAHIHSIWUHWWUIDH AGAIN THIS GOT OUTTA HAND!! MbMB (this is the start of a tiny mini series idk bro) THANK U BB FOR READING!!

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x female!reader #stranger things billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove my love #billy hargrove my beloved #billy hargrove headcanon

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night-dazai · 11 months ago

Note

helloo can you please do a threesome with toji and nanami but in a non sorcerers au maybe like a office au and they are my higher ups?

The au isn't necessary but pls do a threesome with toji and nanami

Toji x Reader x Nanami

Tags: Degradation, rough sex, threesome, smacking ass, female reader, blow job, slight voyeurism smut with little plot.

(picture taken from Pinterest, shoutout to the original artist )

This was the worst, the most horrible thing that could happen this Friday.

Tears threatening to spill from your eyes you stood there listening to your manager Nanami scold you. His voice was not loud or rough or anything but it was cold and demanding and ordering you to work better and you have not been doing it for a week.

Your bf broke up or more like got caught by you when he was cheating with your best friend, your house water pipes all broke and you are staying at a hotel. It's the month's end and money is not flowing for you, crying about your break-up was not an option.

You just had to mess up the worst client order to get shouted at now “I should smoothly fire someone for making such mistakes for a whole week y/n do you hear me ?” he asked looking at you as if you dared not give him a glance of your ugly face sobbing “so..sorry …I am sorry …sorry “ was all you could say looking down.

Nanami sighed knowing he could not make up look up but smirked listening to your rambling “ I had a … bad…break …up ..it was not …water …pipes….house gone …” you kept rambling. Nothing made sense is what you thought and would greatly bend down again apologising “sorr..I am sorry “.

Getting fed up with your rand words he spoke “ I should fire such a useless employee but .. it seems you could not get fired “ he said. Cold face getting smug as a smirk played on his lips as you looked up for the first time in 30 mins to look at him “Yes sir, what is it “ you asked.

Tears still running down your checks, but no black lines. Means you don't wear makeup or if you did it was not too much .” She looks naturally slutty huh ?” he thought and pushed his chair and manspread his legs throwing the files to the side “Kneel “ his voice still the same cold and demanding.

It took you a few seconds to understand the demand, your face getting red and more tears spilt down. You were grasping at straws and this is the straw that you got but who cares “ he cheated not me “ you thought. Your boss was always the eye candy in the office, he was everyone's dream man but if you can spend a night with him why say no?

Slowly you walked near him as he pulled you down making you kneel and grab your pony pulling your face to look at him “Now that's a good girl “ he mumbled and spread more to let you in. Pushing your face closer to his bulge by your hair “Be good the door is still open and it's 7:30 pm only office closes at 8 pm only “ he said and pulled you inside his desk and scooted closer pushing you inside the desk.

Fumbling for a minute you freed his cock from the restraints of the creamy pants, and you stared. It was big mush bigger than your cheat of a man's dick and thick you could never imagine something so big in you. Testing waters you licked the tip with a strong lick and earned a hiss and tug at your hair “Don't play around or else it would be bad for you . “ the warning went straight to your core while your mouth to his dick sucking it.

It tasted nice and salty but hot it throbbed each time you licked it, slowly you tried putting the tip and a little of the shaft in hollowing your checks, while you were busy thrusting his dick into your mouth little did you notice your wet panties and the knock on the door.

His grip on your hand did not lose “Come in “ he said in the stoic voice he reserved for general business. You could not hear who it was but your heart was thumping hard very hard when a surprise thrust in your mouth had you moaning but nothing came out.

You kept sucking him while the other person kept talking about how the client was very mad and that they might have to change the project manager itself. Hearing this your head hurts from the strong grip and your jaw burns with pain due to the subtle but firm thrusts.

Clawing at his thighs you were forced to suck him off while after talking for what seemed like ages the person closed the door. The click sound was the same time your hair was free and your mouth empty.

Coughing you looked up at your boss with tears strained, a red flush face while he looked at you with a blank face, eyes unreadable due to his glasses “Get up “ he said holding your hand and pulling you up and at the same time the door opened “ boss ..” a rough voice spoke.

In an instant, you were pushed back to your knees and inside the desk “ Toji ..” kept saying looking quite surprised “Boss I know it's late have a minute ?” the bull-like man asked.

Your heart was beating faster than ever, he was the person sitting next to you at the desk, the other man girls drool over and someone who has the reputation of a fucking anyone.

Nanami nodded while pressing his foot on your thigh and slowly worked his way to your cunt as you sat legs open on the tiny desk, pressing it.

Holding your breath you covered your mouth to stop the moans from spilling out as he continued to press on your clothed clit, you scooted closer to him and opened your legs more.

“Do you remember y/n ?” Toji asked making both you and Nanami pause “Yes what about y/n?” your boss asked and counited to rub his foot on you. “ Well I think she is having personal problems, she is not the type to mess up such a project. She has been looking down the whole week and one day she looked like she might have cried all night “ his voice got a little annoyed towards the end.

Nanami pushed an eyebrow up “Mh… yeah I do know but you should also know that this project is about to leave our team cause of her “ his voice was lanced with anger. Toji nodded “Yeah I did hear that but …why not let her off with a warming or something, “ he asked scratching his head.

Scoffing Kento spoke while giving a particularly harsh press on your cunt “Why are you supporting her so much ? You have some relation with her ?” he asked. Toji smirked and looked at his boss without speaking he walked towards the door “No, her boobs and I say hi to each other . That's the only reason I look at that girl “ he locked the door and turned to face his boss with a smug look “ time is 8: 25 pm and more than half the people left the office you can let her out boss “.

His words shocked Nananmi but he soon gathered his compurese “Well you are sharp “ he said pushing his chair back to let you crawl out.

You did not want to, you were horrified. Your co-worker found you giving a BJ to your boss and he also just said that he likes your body.

“Get out “ Kento spat as you crawled out and showed your drool and pre cum dripping chin and tear-filled eyes and wet checks.

“Thought I could join your game “ Toji said losing his tie and walking towards you and Nnanmi just sat and waited for his subordinate's next move. Whic was to rip your buttoned-up shirt open in one go and remove your bra as you struggled “Noooo….Toji !” you squealed but soon it stopped when Toji sealed your lips.

Struggling under the man as he kept removing all the clothes on you “Please…. don't do this…” you cried and looked at your boss but he was busy enjoying the show. “Bend her here” Nanami said moving a few files and then you lay bent over the desk ass towards Toji and face towards your boss “Can I sir ?” Toji asked permission and got a nod in response.

Soon you felt something hot, big at your entrance “Nooo..” you cried but it was not loud from your earlier dick-sucking. You tried to push him by his stomach but Toji grabbed your hands in one move and pined it on your back “Quite “ he said and entered your tight walls.

“AH…….big…too bigg” you said squirming but not able to move much stood and took his length. You need not turn and look, you knew the was big and thick and not everything was in but you felt full as if it reached your throat.

Kento grabbed your jaw “Keep busy “ saying he stuffed his dick back in your mouth.

As to rammed his strong hips on your cunt, balls slapping your clit. You were there in between 2 men whimpering while the other abused your mouth. Thrusts from the back made you jerk forward but thrusts from Kento made you move a bit back.

Being naked on Kento’s desk which was made from nice original oak wood rubbed at your hard perky nipples creating a lot more stumialtion. Never in your life did you imagine such a situation.

But never in your life did you also receive so much pleasure, a dick filling you to the brim on both ends “Don't cum so fast “ Toji said slapping your ass again on the same side making it throb with pain.

He pulled out when he felt your walls clenching on him tighter “You don't deserve to cum yet “ he said while your cunt clenched around nothing Nnankmi emptied his load in your mouth holding your jaw tightly making sure you took each drop.

They switched positions while Nnami entered your already wet hole, Toji took your mouth and rammed in with the same force while your pussy got abused more. “That's much better might think of keeping you around “ Nnami said giving strong thrusts as you moaned on Toji’s dick he hummed in satisfaction “Do it more “ he said.

“You said his boobs were nice right ?” Nnanmi suddenly asked stopping his actions and making Toji stop his too “Yeah?” and with that, both men pulled out again and in a second you were flipped on your back by Nananmi “Let's have a look “ he said entering your hole again and flicking a nipple while Toji took your mouth again.

The grip on your jaw tightened, and your neck hurt from the angel but your throat inside felt nice and soon you feel both men twitching inside your mouth and pussy. Toji came in your mouth which was already filled with Nnanmis's cum now mixed with his “Don't spill slut “ he warned gripping your neck while Nnanmi pulled your nipples while fucking you.

Eyes rolling back both you and Nnananmi came at the same time, the laid hot and lots filled your gummy walls, he slowly pulled out with a lewd sound. Both men took a moment to admire their artwork “One more ?” Toji asked not satisfied.

Coughing and stuttering you lay on the desk trying to catch your breath and life which seemed to be slipping away “Yes of course “ Kento said removing his shirt and revealing a chiselled body while Toji did the same and soon you knew, this was going to become your life in the office.

At least you are not fired and you can still pay bills.

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arcane-vagabond · 1 year ago

Text

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Five

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Language, Mean girl Mandy, Flirting, Alcohol, Siren call, Supernatural elements, Kind of suggestive/smutty but not really? idk

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Alright, alright! The ball is starting to roll! We've got a lot going on now, I think. Can't wait to hear y'all's thoughts! Also, shoutout to @goldenseresinretriever for letting me bounce ideas off of her! You the real MVP!! If you're feeling kind/generous, please consider buying me a ko-fi! I will be referring to that Google form from now on! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist

“I thought the bonfires happened the other night?” You asked Bob as the two of you made your way down the practically deserted streets. It was late, and the only people out were the young adults still looking to have a good time. The family friendly activities had ended hours ago, and now it was time for the partying to start.

“They were supposed to,” he said, eyes scanning the dimly lit street, “but they got postponed because of all the rain the other week. This was the only night that worked for most everyone around town.”

“That works out for us, I guess,” you hummed, hearing the sound of crashing waves grow closer as you neared the beach.

“Hey, thing one and thing two!”

The two of you turned around to see a grinning Bradley jogging up behind you, and you turned with a smile to greet him.

“Hey, Bradley!” You chirped. “We thought you’d already be down at the beach with everyone else.”

“I was, but I forgot my phone at the house,” he said, waving his phone in his hand. “So I ran back to grab it. Everyone else should already be down there, though.”

“We better get a move on before all the drinks are gone,” Bob mused, already moving once again. Bradley fell into step alongside you, bumping your shoulder with his.

“Feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, Skipper,” he joked, casting a smirk down at you. “You been avoiding me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you giggled.

Bradley scoffed, giving you an offended look that was made less serious by the grin on his face. “Me? Avoid you? Don’t be ridiculous. Who in their right mind would avoid a sweet, little thing like you?”

“You must not really know her then,” Bob snorted. “She practically cut my hand off when I went for the last fry at lunch today.”

“That was entirely your fault,” you huffed, sticking your tongue out at him. “You know how much I love french fries.”

“Yeah, enough to cause grievous bodily injuries, apparently,” he smirked. You scowled at him before looking back at Bradley who was also smirking at you.

“He’s being dramatic,” you offered with a shrug.

“Barely.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” you griped as the three of you walked down the stairs and onto the beach. You could see the glow from the various fires flicker in the night, groups of different people huddled around each one. “I have to set an alarm every morning to wake up before he does if I want any bacon.”

“Oh, trust me,” Bradley laughed, steering you towards a fire on the edge of the grouping, Bob in tow. “I grew up with him. I know how much bacon he puts away.”

“I am not that bad,” Bob huffed, earning identical dubious looks from both you and Bradley. You giggled when Bradley quirked his eyebrow at you.

“Sure you aren’t, Bob,” you laughed, earning a scowl from your best friend.

“You made it!”

The three of you turned to see Nat waving at you, the rest of the squad already settled in on the towels surrounding the small fire. You felt a shiver run up your spine as you made eye contact with a pair of mossy green ones. You looked away as your cheeks warmed, letting Bradley guide you across the fire and down on a group of towels, Bob on your other side.

“So,” said the brunette sitting next to Jake, blue eyes calculating as she took you in. She was just as beautiful as the last time you saw her. Tan skin glowed in the light from the fire, body lithe and athletic. She looked like she walked off the cover of a fashion magazine, and her narrowed gaze was trained on you, lips curled into waht appeared to be a permanent sneer. “You must be the tagalong I’ve heard so much about. Skipper was it?”

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing over at Bradley as he stiffened next to you, a glare fixed on his face as he looked at her.

“Yeah,” you said, offering an anxious smile as you looked back at her. “That’s what they call me anyway.”

“It’s cute,” she said, tone indicating that she most certainly did not find it cute. “I’m Mandy. You’ve probably heard of me from the others.”

“Oh, yeah,” you smiled. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I’m not surprised,” she continued with a smirk. “I’ve known everyone here since we were in diapers. We go way back, you know. Don’t feel bad if you end up feeling left out in our conversations, okay?”

You shifted again, this time knocking your knee into your bag. The shells you carried with you jostled, clinking together, and you blushed when everyone looked at you.

“What was that?” Mickey asked, peering over to get a better look. You lifted your bag as you began to pull each shell out and placing it carefully on the towel.

“Oh, these are the shells and things I’ve been finding everywhere!” You smiled, running your fingers over the conch. “Aren’t they amazing? I’ve never seen so many beautiful shells in my life! And they’re all perfectly in tact, can you believe it? It’s like someone just plucked them up off the ocean floor and set them out for me to find!”

“That’s quite a collection,” Nat chuckled, shooting a smirk off to the side. You followed her line of sight, and your eyes made direct contact with the mossy green ones from earlier. Jake looked at you with an expression that could only be described as awe as he took you in, eyes peering down to where you cradled the conch gently in your hands before looking back up at you. His eyes shone in the firelight, a hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. You felt another blush creep up your neck, and you leaned forward to place the conch closer to the fire for everyone to see. You heard a sharp intake of breath, and you looked up to see Mandy with a look of rage and shock on her face as she stared at you. You realized quickly she wasn’t staring at your face, but rather down at the base of your neck. Her eyes darted up to meet yours and her expression shifted quickly into one of cold contempt.

“You actually carry those around with you?” She sneered, scoffing out a laugh. “What are you? Five?”

You frowned up at her, suddenly feeling self conscious as you glanced around the group. Their smiles had shifted into looks of irritation as they glared at the brunette.

“Oh, I just-”

“I mean,” she sniffed, cutting you off, “I suppose it’s fitting for someone who looks like you though, right? You’re not exactly dressed to impress or anything.”

You looked down at your clothes, a frown on your face. You weren’t normally self conscious. Sure, you didn’t look like a model like Mandy, but you didn’t think you were hard on the eyes. You had dressed for comfort though, and it was plain to see in your jean shorts, tank top, and white button up. Mandy wore a pair of cutoffs and a tight fitting tank top that showed off her figure, and her makeup was immaculate. You hadn’t seen the point in putting any on. Should you have?

“Mandy,” Bob growled, glaring in a warning.

“Oh, I know she’s your friend and all, Bobby,” Mandy continued, a viscious smirk poised on her lips. “But let’s be honest. I mean, we’re among friends, right? And friends should be honest with each other. You’d be lucky if anyone gave you the time of day looking like that. Nevermind the silly, little shells you’re carrying around everywhere. You really should have left those back at the house, you know. And tell me you brought something nice to where for the ocean dance festival. Can you imagine if you wore some frumpy shorts to something like tha-”

“Shut up.”

All eyes turned to Jake who was glaring into the fire, eyes cold as the water that lapped the shore behind you. Mandy narrowed her eyes at him, rage clouding her features.

“Excuse me?” She spat, turning to face him. His gaze shifted to her, jaw clenching.

“Was I not clear enough?” He said evenly. “I said ‘shut up.’”

You hadn’t even realized that tears had gathered in your eyes until Bob laid a gentle hand on your shoudler causing you to jump. You looked over at him, sniffling as he gave you a concerned look. You wiped at the corner of your eyes, scrambling to your feet. You felt everyone’s eyes on you as you shifted from one foot to the other, avoiding their gazes.

“I’m, uh,” you gulped, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “I’m gonna go get something to drink.”

“I’ll come with you,” Bradley said, moving to his feet and giving you a gentle smile. “I’m parched.”

You turned to Bob with a watery smile. “You want anything?”

He studied you for a second, eyes uncertain. You gave him a look that you hoped communicated your need to pretend like you were okay, and he pressed his lips together.

“Just a beer.”

“You got it!” You smiled, trying and failing to add your usual cheeriness to the statement. You gave a half smile that you were sure came off as more of a grimace as you made your way towards the line of coolers on the other side of the fires. Bradley followed you silently, and you kept your head down, feeling the tears start to stream down your cheeks.

You knew you were being silly. They were just words after all, and you were a grown woman. You shouldn’t be letting silly words get to you like this. But why did they hurt so bad? You knelt by one of the coolers, fishing out two beers and a coke. You handed one of the beers to Bradley, refusing to make eye contact with him as you pushed the lid to the cooler closed.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing onto your arm gently, pulling you so that you faced him.

You kept your head down, and Bradley let out a sigh.

“Listen,” he started, hesitating as if he were choosing his next words carefully. “You shouldn’t listen to Mandy, okay? She’s a stone cold bitch on the best of days, and, well, she’s never been told ‘no’ a day in her life. She’s always gotten what she wanted, when she wanted it.”

“What’s your point?” You muttered, glancing off to the side as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Bradley let out another sigh, taking his hand from your arm to run it through his hair.

“My point is that she’s taking her new experience with the word out on you, and it’s not fair. I know it’s hard, but just ignore her, okay? She’s just jealous.”

“Of me?” You scoffed, finally meeting his gaze. Bradley smirked down at you, casting you a wink.

“You’re pretty great, Skipper,” he hummed. “Anyone with eyes can see it. Now, come on. Let’s head back to the others, yeah?”

You nodded, and the two of you made your way back to the fire. As you approached, you noted that Jake was the only one still there, eyes trained on the flames in front of him, seemingly deep in thought. He jumped when Bradley plopped down next to him, leaving just enough room for you to slide in between them.

“Where’d the others go?” Bradley asked, twisting the top off his beer and taking a swig from the bottle. Jake grimaced, gesturing around towards the other fires.

“Take your pick.”

Bradley hummed, leaning back on the towel with his legs outstretched towards the fire. The three of you were silent for a moment, and you felt a tingling sensation on your left side. You turned to find Jake already looking at you, eyes soft as they took you in. Your breath caught in your throat, cheeks flushing. You thought you should have been been creeped out with how intensely he was staring at you, but you felt oddly comfortable under his gaze. In fact, you found yourelf sitting up a little straighter, almost preening under his gaze, and a small smile tugged on Jake’s lips as he took you in, eyes blazing as they reached your neck.

You jumped as Bradley suddenly leaned over in front of you, breaking the spell you found yourself under. A shit eating grin was etched onto his face as he looked at Jake.

“Did you know Skipper here always wanted to be a mermaid?”

You felt yourself begin to splutter as your cheeks warmed for a different reason, eyes growing wide as you peered between the two men. Bradley waggled his eyebrows as Jake’s own shot up on his forehead. A smirk graced his lips, giving him a devilish look to his already handsome features. He looked at you, smirk intensifying as he saw your flustered state. He leaned forward, smirk growing into a grin as you glanced away.

“Is that so?” He hummed, warm breath ghosting over your face.

“I will remind you that I was, like, five at the time,” you snapped, glaring at Bradley. He only chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he smirked lazily up at you.

“I think you’d make a cute mermaid, don’t you agree, Jake?”

Jake nodded with another hum, eyes taking on a look you couldn’t place, but it made you squirm nonetheless.

“Just imagine her swimming around with all her little fishy sidekicks,” Bradley teased, eyes alight with mischief. You scoffed, turning to face him.

“As if,” you snarked, “my sidekick wouldn’t be a fish, it would be a stingray.”

Jake quirked an eyebrow. “Why a stingray?”

“Oh,” you blushed, your nerves kicking up again. “Because they’re my favorite.”

Jake nodded slowly, like he was trying to commit that fact to memory. Bradley snorted beside you, and the two of you looked over at where he was smirking, eyes peeking at Jake before looking back at you.

“How could I forget?” He drawled, taking another sip of his beer. “I met Rusty when you and I were snuggled in bed the other morning.”

“That’s not-”

You were cut off by a growl to your left. You turned to see Jake’s entire expression had changed. His jaw was clenched, eyes trained on Bradley as if he wanted to take his head off. His fists were clenched so tight, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was drawing blood from where his fingernails dug into his palms. He was almost too still as he glared at Bradley, the other man looking smug as he took in his friend’s appearance.

“Are you okay?” You asked the blond, and his eyes glanced over at you, gaze seeming to soften as he took in your concern.

“Bradshaw!” Reuben called from across the way. “Get your ass over here!”

Bradley heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes as he got to his feet. “And that’s my cue,” he muttered.

You watched as he strutted over to where Reuben and Mickey were gathered with a group of people you didn’t know, leaving you alone with Jake.

“He’s such an ass sometimes,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Isn’t he one of your best friends?” You asked him with a giggle. Jake’s demeanor seemed to relax at the sound.

“Unfortunately,” he grumbled, casting another glare over at where Bradley stood chatting and laughing.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You frowned, noticing how tense he still seemed to be. He looked back at you, hesitating before letting out a sigh.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just feeling a little overheated or something,” he muttered, flexing his hands as he uncurled his fists. He moved to stand, and you followed suit.

“Think I’m going to go take a walk to cool off,” he mused, rolling his shoulders back. You frowned, rubbing a hand over your arm.

“Oh, okay,” you said, glancing at the ground, shifting your feet in the sand that covered the towel. Jake seemed to hesitate once more, chewing his bottom lip.

“Do you want to join me?” He asked you, his green eyes hopeful as you met his gaze. You felt a smile tug on your lips as you nodded.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you murmured, moving to grab your bag. You stopped when you noticed it was placed neatly on top of the towel you had been sitting on previously, shells already back inside.

“I, uh,” Jake stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want anything to happen to them, so I put them back in your bag. I guess I should have asked first instead of just moving them. I’m sorry if I-”

“No,” you smiled, “it’s okay. Thank you.”

Jake gave you a nervous, tight lipped smile before nodding. “You can leave your bag here if you want. No one is going to take it.”

You returned his nod, gesturing for him to lead the way down the beach.

The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes, the ocean waves crashing off to your right, and the cool, night breeze ruffling your hair.

“Listen,” Jake started, stopping to turn to you, eyes earnest as they took you in. “I’m sorry about Mandy-”

“Oh, no, Jake,” you frowned, shaking your head. “You don’t have to apologize for her.”

“No, but I do,” he stated firmly, face serious as he looked at you. “It’s my fault she’s taking it out on you. She’s been so convinced that she and I are going to end up together, and now that she knows that’s not the case, she’s on the warpath.”

“Jake,” you sighed, “I understand feeling some kind of weird responsibility for her, but her actions are her own. You shouldn’t have to apologize on her behalf. She’s a big girl just like I am, right? We’re adults who are capable of making our own decisions and apologizing for the wrong we do. None of this is your fault.”

He didn’t look convinced, and you took his hand in yours to offer him some kind of reassurance. A bolt of electricity ran through you, causing you to let out a gasp, and a warmth rushed over you, causing you to squirm. You felt like a magnet, drawn to Jake in a way that you couldn’t even begin to understand. You wanted to feel more of him, to consume and be consumed by him. You had never felt anything like it in your life, and you looked up at him hazy eyes to find that he wasn’t any better off.

His own eyes had a haze to them, seeming to glow in the moonlight. His breathing came out labored, almost like he was fighting to maintain his composure. His eyes raked over you, a hand coming up to rest on your cheek, and you nuzzled into it without thinking.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathed, voice barely above a whisper as he inched closer to you.

“You’re just saying that,” you muttered, leaning into him.

“No,” he stated firmly, causing you to jump just a hair. His other hand came up to rest on your hip, pulling you closer so that you were practically molded against him.

“No,” he said again, gentler this time. “I mean it. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

If it were possible, you were sure your skin would have heated up even more than it already was. As it stood, a pleasant warmth spread through you at his proximity, and the hand that was cradling your cheek slowly drifted down until it brushed the mark on your neck. You let out a wanton cry at the shock of pleasure that jolted through you at the simple touch, and Jake smirked down at you, stroking softly over the mark again and again as he drew more pleasured cries from you.

“It’s okay,” he cooed, leaning his forehead against yours, nuzzling his nose against the tip of yours. “I’ve got you.”

You couldn’t find it in you to feel embarrassed at the intense amount of pleasure you felt at the simplest of touches, too focused on the way his hands felt on you. You raised your own, one hand cradling his cheek as the other ran through his golden hair. He let out a groan as you tugged gently on the soft strands, and you couldn’t help the small smirk that spread across your face. Jake’s eyes met yours, the green of them so intense that it took your breath away. He glanced down at your lips, slowly leaning in-

“Jacob Seresin!”

You gasped, grasping at your ears at the almost inhuman shriek that pierced the night air. Jake pulled back, placing you almost protectively behind him. You peered around him to see Mandy glaring at him, blue eyes practically glowing with rage. Her gaze turned to you, and you shrank back slightly, hiding behind Jake a little more. This only served to make Mandy even more irate, and she snarled as she stomped closer to the two of you.

Jake bristled, standing taller as he continued to block you from Mandy’s warpath.

“How dare you,” she spat at him, lips pulled back into a sneer. “You’re mine.”

“No,” Jake growled, “I’m not.”

You shifted behind him, moving out from behind him slowly, and the pair turned to look at you. You gave them a sheepish smile, as you inched around Mandy, hands up in a form of surrender.

“I’m just going to head back so you two can talk in private,” you murmured. Jake looked like he wanted to argue, but Mandy’s glare had you moving before he could say anything.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you walked back towards the bonfires, already missing Jake’s touch. You had never felt anything so intense in your entire life, and you wondered what had come over you to make you act so brazenly. You weren’t one for hookups, but you weren’t even sure that’s what that was going to be. He had held you so gently, like you might break or run away at any moment. You had been so ready to give him every part of you in that moment. You knew you should have been worried at that thought, but a large part of you thought that it felt right, that you should give yourself to him. The more you thought about it, the more you found yourself wanting to turn around and go back to him.

You were about halfway back down the beach when it started. It was quiet at first, distant. But then it grew louder, and you found yourself slowing to a stop, turning towards the crashing waves to your left.

The song was beautiful, melancholic. It was unlike the one you had heard before, this one sounding more animal like than human, but you still found yourself drawn to it. It called to you, begging you to listen, and you did, feeling the sound drift through your mind and pulling you in. You weren’t sure when you started walking, but you felt the sand shift beneath your feet as you slowly made your way towards the water. The fires faded from your sight, the churning waves beckoning to you like gentle hands that promised refuge. The song grew louder, all consuming, blocking everything else out but the need to answer. You felt the wind whip your hair around you, the cold sting kissing your cheeks as the crashing waves grew louder, the song more desperate. The sand beneath your feet grew cold as you ventured into a spot where the water met the shoreline. You’re almost there, the song called to you. You felt a relieved smile tug on your lips at the thought of finally reaching your goal and answering the song. You felt the water come just up to your toes before retreating back. You closed your eyes in anticipation. Just one more step.

You let out a cry as you were yanked away from the water, a strong hand on your upper arm. Your arms reached for the water, your mind still foggy as a loud, keening cry sounded from the water before disappearing entirely. You whirled around to see Javy staring at you with an intense worry, Nat just behind him, worry clear on her face.

“Wha-” you mumbled, pressing a hand to the side of your head as it began to pound. “What happened? Javy?”

“Hey, Skipper,” he murmured gently, pulling you closer, away from the water. “We’ve been calling you for a while now. You okay?”

“I…” you trailed off, glancing between him and the water. “I’m not sure.”

“How about we get you some water, yeah?” Nat suggested, wrapping her arms around you as she led you back to the bonfires. You nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” you muttered, glancing back at the ocean. “Yeah, okay.”

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman x reader #top gun hangman #hangman imagine #hangman top gun #hangman seresin #hangman #mmats #meet me at the sea

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dxscxndxnts · 7 months ago

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My Thoughts on Descendants Canon

I was thinking about it and wanted to share. I’ve noticed everyone from screenwriters to this fandom over the years has brought a LOT to the canon (including me) and this last movie…kinda doesn’t fit that canon.

We’ve always perceived these characters to be continuations of the OG Disney Movies. Sleeping Beauty, Mulan, Beauty and the Beast, etc all happened as they did in their animated movies and the next thing was Descendants. It’s likely Descendants Canon doesn’t even consider sequels (Little Mermaid 2, Cinderella 2 and 3, etc)

Now, lots of us (myself included) do nitpick some other Disney canons for fanfiction or theory purposes. For example, I roll with The Little Mermaid: The Musical Canon that Triton and Ursula and Poseidon’s kids. Someone can correct me if I’m wrong but I’m pretty sure that’s never mentioned in the OG cartoon movie. Another example I’ve seen is folks accepting Maleficent (2014) as canon, which led to a lot of King Stephen is Mal’s father theories. Also, Greek Mythology? We all love discussing the complexities of D3 Hades being…D3 Hades.

Then there’s the books, by my guess written retroactively to the movies. I love them, I love the depth De La Cruz gives to this world. Unfortunately, I’m not sure book canon is heavily considered when writing the script (tho shoutout D4 for making Castlecoming a thing).

All of this to say: the Descendants Cinematic Universe (yes, this is DCU now) was originally thought to be based on JUST The original animated films.

Except now all those characters are in High School together? What?

I’ve said this once already, but it reminds me of The School for Good and Evil. All the Heroes and Villains went to school together and then after graduation went off to be in a fairytale. I think the DCU could be interpreted as something similar. Hear me out:

First thing: Let’s assume for a minute DCU is separate from the original movies it’s based on. The blue-haired Ella and the blonde cartoon Cinderella are different characters. A little trickier: Teen Maleficent and Maleficent (D1) are the same person, but not the same as Sleeping Beauty (1959) Maleficent.

Second thing: Take exact copies of all those Original Animated characters and put them together in the same place at the same time. Now they all go to high school together. This part is the SGE-like part, but the difference is there isn’t such a strict distinction of heroes and villains. Merlin teaches everyone. Their fairytales are their choice.

Which brings me to the third: ALL OF THE PLOTS STILL HAPPEN, and in their world it’s just common place and also translated differently. Ella still has an Evil Stepmother, a dance to go to, and a prince to see, but it doesn’t look like the cartoon at all.

Other examples:

Hades is indeed a teenager, and just casually a King of the Underworld and a God. That’s just how this place works.

Jaladdin. JALADDIN. If they’re together, their story already panned out, but maybe in a way that’s more DCU-like. Maybe Princess Jasmine needed to have a date to a certain royal event (instead of picking a suitor). Maybe good ol Vizier Jafar sent a skater punk in detention to a pawnshop for the lamp. Yes, Genie was a Genie, but maybe also a thriftstore owner who helped Aladdin get the girl with some thrifty style and a dusty magic carpet. I’m spitballing here.

My point is: all the fairytale stories will still take place, and all the characters are the same BUT separate from Original Animated Disney Canon. Aladdin already happened. Cinderella is currently happening. Alice in Wonderland is SO FAR in the future. Peter Pan may happen soon. Captain Hook already lost his hand, so he already blames Pan for that. (Can yall imagine its his twerp cousin or something, lol)

(I can’t explain Morgie. Morgana La Fey is from Once and Future King (King Authur’s story). She was not in Disney’s The Sword in the Stone, which is only 1/4 of OFK. The main villain in Disney’s movie was Madam Mim.)

This explanation also makes it a little easier to digest the fact that Beast was able to unite the kingdoms and banish the villains. If DCU was straight outta Disney canon, he would have to unite 1920s Louisiana (Princess and the Frog) with Aladdin’s Agrabah (just not real).

So yeah, that’s how I’m somehow wrapping my brain around all this. What do y’all think?

#descendants 2 #descendants #disney descendants #descendants 3 #rise of red #descendants rise of red

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mulders-too-large-shirt · 23 days ago

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fight the future part 2

waaaah! what a point we left off on last night. i want to leave a few random thoughts here so that you must click the “read more” link and therefore i shall prevent the girlies who, like me, are only now getting around to watch txf, from major spoilers….

so, thoughts of no particular importance:

scully likes her soda sweet and takes pleasure in teasing mulder :)

mulder is a big ol softie and he seems to not drink alcohol very often (BUT he does occasionally go to the bar)

and they live in different parts of the city! i assumed they lived closer because they are always at each other's place

i like scully's outfit :)

skinner is like an uncle to me

okay, an actual recap beneath the read more link...

i left off last night with the syndicate promising to take away what mulder loves most… what he cannot live without (dramatic cut to scully). the virus is mutating and maybe earth has been a pawn of the aliens this whole time. and since mulder and scully and kurtzweil know this, they must be dealt with. dun dun DUUUUN!

girl, i don’t watch this show for the aliens, i watch it for the slowburn and vague spooky aesthetic. so i hope they figure out the black oil and what not.

but the black oil made the fireman have an alien baby… is it because he was cold? they don't usually get to keep those exposed to the alien virus cold. or is it because the virus that the fireman caught had mutated to the point of producing new life? why didn’t krycek and mulder and all the russian gulag guys have an alien baby when they got oiled up?

shrugs. who tf knows.

so, i left off at 54:42, and now i must reload the DVD to this point in time. the DVD is so fuzzy and the captions are different from what they are actually saying which is equal parts endearing and annoying, lmao

okay. back to scully and her very cool suit in the desert. she had to have been hot as hell.

well, it doesn’t look like much of a dig site, but mulder makes scully pinky promise that the fossils were infected with the same stuff she saw at the morgue.

insert that (it fucken wimdy) fox here as mulder’s hair and suit gets blown around in the desert

ooo, how convenient! a brand new playground right over where once a dig site lay. mulder is going to sniff around that newly installed grass, point out that it is brand new, and then talk to some local kids on bikes.

they kids say they can’t talk about it and they don’t believe that they’re FBI agents. and why is this?

“cause y’all look like door-to-door salesmen” <- LMAOOOOO, SCULLY’S SMILE I’M DYING!!

well, a quick show of the badge gets 'em to snitch. so much for the shady government's bribery for silence with new bikes. and off the agents go, in the direction these small children point.

RACING DOWN A DESERT ROAD IN A WEIRD LITTLE CARRR YEAHHHH!!!! SUCH IS THE LIFE OF OUR FAVORITE AGENTS!!!!

LMAOOOO they don’t know which way to go… scully says right and mulder says left… so he barrels ahead straight BAHAHAHHA

“fives years together scully, how many times have i been wrong? never! not driving, anyway” <- LMAOOOO this is a terrible thing for a man with no sense of direction to say

shoutout to this little grey nondescript car going on quite the adventure

as always, i wonder what they talk about as they drive for hours and hours…. it’s night by the time they roll up to a…. fence?

ohhh, scully is mad :(

“this is great, this is fitting”

“of what?”

“i have to be in washington DC in 11 hours for a hearing, the outcome of which might possibly effect one of the biggest decisions of my life, and here i am in nowhere, texas, chasing phantom tanker trucks” <- AWW MY GIRL IS STRESSED TF OUT!! and can you blame her?!?

too bad they didn’t have zoom back then to do a virtual hearing…

she’s about to tell him she does NOT have time to track down alien viruses (and it is so funny that she straight up asks what he isn’t telling her) when a train appears!!!! time for more chasing!!!

bro is driving up a hill��.. and they see something weird…. domes?? big glowy domes??? in the distance!!!!

use the large man to forge through the cornfields that are mysteriously growing in the desert!!! this is an excellent tactic, scully!!

what if the corn has smallpox? like those bees and the honey that we saw before?? please be careful!!

dome time. why does the door open right up when they approach!!! and more it wimdy time as their hair blows about!!! yeah, scully, fix that wind tossed hair!!

the inside of the dome is temperature controlled and making a weird humming noise. mulder puts his head to the ground as if he’s listening for the floor’s heartbeat.

NOOOO, THE BEES ARE RELEASED!!!! the smallpox bees!!!!! or some other virus-having bees!! SHE CAN’T SEE WHERE SHE IS GOING SO HE GUIDES HER THROUGH THE BEE STORM.......... OHHH MY GOD….

he asks if she got stung and her hair is all messed up :(

what if we were coworkers and i was blinded by bees so you took my hand and led me through the storm...........

RUN!!! helicopters approach!!! escape into that cornfield!!! she gets down, but he keeps running.

NOOO, HE CAN’T FIND HER!!!! he’s doing his famous “scully” screaming!!!! WAHHHH

(i always admire how he never seems to have to inhale before letting out the longest "SCULLLLLYYYYYYY" of all time)

after lots and lots of screaming, they find each other, and i imagine they will also swear off corn mazes for the rest of their life. which is probably fine because they didn't have much appeal anyway

NOOOOOOO, scully is almost late for her hearing, but is now dramatically trying to make herself look okay before going before the scary panel, and not appear as if she has been attacked by smallpox bees…. she wants to make a good impression :(

she’s trying to present the fossils to the panel!!! they don’t seem to like that she went back to dallas

meanwhile, mulder is back at that dingy bar. which has a big moose on the wall. to talk with kurtzweil!!!

NOOOOOO…. a bee is on scully's neck….

kurtzweil only guesses that the crops and bees are for spreading a virus, which is NOT pleasing to mulder. fight fight fight in the alley!!!! how do you only take a GUESS about that critical information?

OH NO, SOMEONE IS WATCHING HIM!!!

back to mulder's apartment and the fishies, and he looks through a scrapbook… he has a scrapbook in his desk?? from his father? or is it a bunch of pictures from his childhood he put together himself? hard to tell, but either way, a surprising detail for him. and he finds kurtzweil in there!!! hanging out at a picnic!! oh shit, he really must have known his father!!

(i kind of thought he might have been lying about the whole thing)

scully arrives. “what’s wrong?” “salt lake city, utah. transfer effective immediately” <- NOOOOO, SHE CAN’T DO UTAH!!!! she needs her caffeine!!

so she handed in her letter of resignation….

oh my god, i can tell i’m going to want to quote this whole thing and my fingers cannot move fast enough

SHE DEBATED ON EVEN TELLING HIM IN PERSON??? she was just going to DIP??

“we are close to something here! we’re on the verge”

“you’re on the verge, mulder. please don’t do this to me” ohhhh…. oh scully….

WHAT?!?!?!??

“i need you on this” “you don’t need me, mulder. you never have. i’ve just held you back” <- YOU CAN’T SAY THAT??? YOU DID THE SCIENCE AND FOUND OUT THERE WAS A VIRUS?? look at his face when she says that…..

oh, he is not going to let her walk away!!!!!!

(what is on his wall…. it looks like some sort of architectural art print thingy)

angry man follows her out!!!!

“why did they assign me to you in the first place, mulder? to debunk your work. to rein you in, to shut you down”

“but you SAVED ME!” <- OH MY GOD….. i knew she saved him, we all knew she saved him, but to hear HIM tell HER that information will make me fall to my knees and WEEP

“as difficult and frustrating as it’s been sometimes, your goddamn strict rationalism and science have saved me a thousand times over” OHHHHH MY GOD…. tell her what she means to you…

“YOU KEPT ME HONEST. YOU MADE ME A WHOLE PERSON” MY JAW DROPPED????? did he feel like a half person before her????? oh my GOD?? i feel like i always type "tell her what she means to you" and it NEVER happens, which makes this incredibly satisfying to hear

“i owe you EVERYTHING. and scully, you owe me nothing” OH MY GOD???????? oh my god. hey hi guys!!! can you hear me screaming??

(augh... still losing it over this line after watching it all. the writers so clearly favor him and his worldview and just writing his character in general so to hear mulder acknowledge that he owes scully is just... so perfect)

“i don’t know if i want to do this alone. i don’t even know if i can. and if i quit now, they win”

oh she’s crying….. and they hug…….. and he bends over to hold her head….

AND SHE KISSES HIS FOREHEAD…….??

(still screaming about this btw. stand on your tippie toes to kiss that freak, scully. oh, the intimacy of a forehead kiss, it's always going to punch me in the gut)

and he holds her face while she cries…. are they gonna kiss……. OH MY GOD THEY’RE GOING TO KISS?? THE MUSIC GOT ALL INSTRUMENTAL??

NOOOOO!!! something happened. okay, hold on, i need to watch all of this again for my own sake.

she got stung by the smallpox bee, but hold on. i need to see this again. i need to see this man desperate and telling her she deserves the world once more. look at her crying. oh my GOD. are these tears of goodbye??!!! and the forehead kiss…. how he puts his hands on her face, and she has a hand behind his neck…….

AND THEY BOTH LEAN IN FOR THE KISS, BUT HE APOLOGIZES…….

“ow! jesus!” “i’m sorry” oh, he looks so embarrassed to have violated a boundary- OHHH MY POOR MULDER, YOU SOPPING WET TEDDY BEAR- so she clarifies that “no, something stung me”

she pulls the whole bee out and he peeks into the back of her shirt to try and see what happened, rubbing the back of her head to comfort her (hey guys. oh my god??!? are we all seeing this or is this some sort of figment of my imagination??)

“mulder? something’s wrong” he’s still grabbing her shoulders and he says “what” so softly…

“i’m having lancinating pain in…” “what?” “my chest”

this diva… she might be dying but she is going to use the medically accurate words for what she is experiencing… and i love that about her <3

“my motor functions are being affected” she says as he’s trying to hold her, panicking, saying her name

oh my GOD (again. hey god. i keep invoking your name. i just wanna say thank you for these characters) he lays her down on the floor, but she has just enough energy to say that she has no allergies, so this cannot be anaphylactic shock!

NOOOOO!!! he calls 911, but as they take her into the ambulance, the paramedics think it’s an allergic reaction and are ignoring mulder when he says it might be a virus!!!!!!!!

WHAT THE FUCK??? THE DISPATCHER PULLS OUT A GUN AND SHOOTS HIM IN THE HEAD????

my jaw is ONCE AGAIN on the floor………… what the fuck!!!! how are they going to get out of this sticky situation!!

meanwhile, an infected body is being brought somewhere…. to CSM!!!

WAIT, SHIT, IT’S SCULLY????????? i thought it would be the fireman from before who exploded!!!!

WHERE ARE YOU TAKING HER, YOU SICK FUCK??!!

who is bickering over mulder……? THE LONE GUNMEN YAAAAY! “cowardly lion, scarecrow, and… toto” <- AWWW he can’t even be mean to byers because everyone loves him

so they must not have aimed at his head very well if he can still speak...

he wants to go get scully now, but ENTER SKINNER!!! “mulder, EASY, EASY, you’re staying right there!!!” <- OHHHH SKINNER…. this man wants to just go find his partner, but needs skinner to remind him he literally almost JUST died…….. skinner points out that "they" will know if he leaves!!!!

“tell me where she is, i’ll look” “i don’t KNOW WHERE SHE IS, but i know someone who might” (oh, he’s so whiny when he says that………)

(god. after seeing it all, i'm imagining skinner going instead of him to find her. i mean, i know mulder never would have let that happen, but just picture some sort of alternate universe where it did, and all of the things that i write about next took place between skinner and scully... it would have been very interesting)

((and my god, skinner's desperation, offering to go in his place...... he really loves them both. i get choked up about it))

langley wants to help. “what can we do?” “you can strip byers naked” “what?!” “i need your clothes” AWW, POOR TOTO!!!

i have rewatched this scene like 5 times because they put crack in skinner forcing him to lay back down. mulder takes off the bloody headband…….

and he gets out wearing byers slash toto's clothes!!!! run, run man who just got shot in the brain!! i am sure that this is a good thing for you to be doing instead of resting!!! (heavy on the /s)

i know skinner was mad as hell to see him go LMAO. alas. he is an unstoppable force.

kurtzweil is loitering about an alley, presumably waiting for mulder, when WELL-GROOMED MAN APPEARS!! leave him alone……. but no, he is not alone, for someone else pulls into the alley…

mulder’s at the bar, and it seems his presence has killed the party vibe. he runs out the back, looking for kurtzweil, but well-groomed man is closing the trunk!!! he says he’s come and gone!! oh lord!

well-groomed man says that if mulder gets in the car, he will give him the location of scully and how to save her……… and he gets in the car, very suspiciously… where are they taking him?! this has to be a trap.

well-groomed man says he has vaccine and her coordinates. and it has to be administered VERY SOON.

so it’s NOT smallpox in the bees this time, it’s an alien virus from the original inhabitants of this planet.

so the aliens never fully left?? because they were the first ones here on earth. they went underground and evolved into a pathogen??? waiting to be reconstituted and use us as hosts. and we have no defense.

huh! answers! how rare are those for this franchise? i still wanna know about the alien bodies with the vaccine scars in arizona, though, from the anasazi arc. i have a feeling they will never come. but i WANT them.

so, well-groomed man (and i assume the rest of the syndicate) thought that the mass infection would simply make us a slave race, but it began to gestate??

man. y’all gotta stop trying to make scully have babies. make mulder have the babies. he has the oil in him!!!

so they’ve been working to secretly develop a cure. but mr. mulder didn’t buy the whole plot.

“he sacrificed my sister. he let them take samantha”

“without a vaccination, the only true survivors of the viral holocaust will be those immune to it- human-alien clones. he allowed your sister to be abducted to be taken to a cloning program for one reason”

“so she would survive… as a genetic hybrid”

OH SHIT!!! so was mulder NOT the favorite child??!

not sure how i feel about getting so much rapid fire plot explanation in one hefty dose after a slow and tiny drip for 5 seasons. and the retconning this does of the existing lore...

“your father chose hope over selfishness. hope, the only future he had: his children” <- well. he still let the aliens take her. like, i get maybe he was trying to do the right thing, but i’m not sure how much that’s worth when that was his baby girl that he gave to the aliens.

and he hoped that mulder would fight the future (woohoo!! they said the name of the movie!!) and uncover and stop the project. no fucking pressure, right?? geez. mr. mulder and i need to fight it out.

well-groomed man says that soon he will die, and that he is telling mulder about this whole evil plot for the sake of his own children, hoping he can stop it. but he doesn’t answer where kurtzweil is…

mulder would like to get out of the car NOW. is he gonna hitchhike from some random alley?

OH SHIT, well-groomed man says he was ordered to kill kurtzweil AND mulder, and he WHIPS OUT A GUN and KILLS THE DRIVER?!! BLOOD!! AND BRAINS!! ALL ABOUT!!

“trust no one, mr. mulder”, he says

so the colonists don’t know the vaccine exists?! i guess that gives them hope! they just have to make a ton of it!

"find agent scully!!!! go now!!!" (well-groomed man pulls out his little gun again and tells mulder to gtfo)

OH SHIT!!!! he gets back in the car and it blows up!!!!!!!!!!!

look at that rumpled, bloodied mulder on the ground…….. his shirt unbuttoned a little at the top….

it is a good look.

RIP my bestie well-groomed man… sorry i called you the wrong name for 800 years… it was for consistency’s sake…. you weren’t a great guy, but i guess you did what counts in the end

(unfortunately i knew he was going to die because that time i googled his name to make sure i was spelling it right (and i wasn't), i sadly encountered spoilers. but this is still a bummer. now his grandson has broken legs AND no grandpa. rough day for the kid)

let’s go to antarctica now!!! LMAOOOOO it’s mulder in a big jacket driving a…. thingy!!! he’s gonna find her, don’t you fucking doubt it for a minute!! even if the fuel is low and it is hard to see!!!

(after seeing the whole film i'm laughing because they did not include any context at all as to how he GOT to the end of the world right away to go rescue her. i am pretty sure you cannot simply roll up to antarctica, especially on such a time crunch. but you know, i guess the plot had to happen)

NOOOOO the fuel 💔 he's all out!

okay, so he’s at the exact coordinates where well-groomed man said he would find scully, but doesn’t see anything except for a rocky hill. climb that hill!!! see what is on the other side with your binoculars!!

and what is on the other side? igloos!!!! and vehicles!!!! it looks like the empire strikes back out here!!

NOOOOOOO, he falls into a sinkhole!!!!!!! not after he just got shot!!!!! this has to hurt so bad!!!! his poor head!!!

he decides to go deeper into the cavern, where i fear some aliens may be in there.

me, anytime i see a cave system: oh, this is JUST like skyrim

he finds a whole labyrinth with all sorts of cave and crypts and people buried in the snow……….

back on the surface, it’s CSM driving the antarctic buggy thing outside the igloos? wow. he is multi-talented, i guess. i wonder when he got his cold weather buggy driving certification. his resume must be so long

mulder is still exploring this… underground city thingy. it looks like blackreach. to me. there’s some sort of conveyor belt thingy.

he must find his scully!!!! and not slip…..

NOOOOO, he fell down a giant slide!!! AGAIN, his poor head!! please don’t fall into the abyss!!! is the vaccine okay??? did it crack and spill everywhere? eeek, that gave me vertigo!!!

okay, so death by falling from a tall place has been narrowly avoided.

NOW WHERE IS SCULLY???? he finds her clothes and her necklace!!!!!

these people are in ice cubes, and she must be in there somewhere!!!!

he found her in an ice cube or glass tube-y looking thing all naked and frozen, and he’s bonking it, trying to get to her :(

CSM realizes there is some sort of breach while mulder is trying to break scully free from the goop and ice. and he is trying to inject her with the vaccine…. is she even in there????

oh my god, there is some sort of like… tube thing?? it’s coming out of her mouth????

oh my GOD, stop torturing her!!!!!!

(gagging thinking about the mouth tube in retrospect. icky!!!!!)

he breaks her free!!!! “cold. i’m cold” “i’ll get you out of there” SHE IS GOING TO FREEZE!!! WE NEED TO GET HER A BLANKET NOWWWW

CSM says everyone in the base needs to evacuate NOW, but mulder won’t make it out, so they don't have to bother trying to track him down

god, he’s laying her down like the pieta, and wrapping her in his coat….

(i hope he pocketed her necklace; i couldn't tell if that happened or not)

the scientists and CSM are fleeing as mulder tries to haul her up the ladder…. but all of the goop and ice chambers are melting!!!!! the aliens!!! they will get loose, won’t they??

she says she can’t keep moving, so he hauls her over his shoulder…….. but the alien!!!!!

she can’t grab the vent because she’s out cold!!!! and the alien is getting mad!!!! there is no time for all of this!!!!!

mulder must give scully CPR while the angry beasts look around……..

SHE OPENS HER EYES!!!!! and he's holding her head, telling her to breathe…

“mulder… i had you big time” <- OHHHHHHHHHHHH MY GOD…. their smiles at each other…………

(this will devastate me for a few centuries at least)

meanwhile, all of the aliens are breaking free, and they are mad!!!!!! are they going to get his legs???

crawl through the vents!!!! get out into the ice!!!! pull that poor scully around like a rag doll before everything blows up!!!!!

it’s all falling in and the ice is collapsing!!! run, mr. track star, run!!!!

NOOOOOOO, THEY FALL!!!!!!!

so this whole base thing they just escaped from.... it’s a giant UFO??!!!!!!!!!!!!!! which is now flying away from them???!!!?

he wants scully to see, but she can barely open her eyes….

(appreciate the commitment to preventing scully from seeing these things LMAO)

are they just going to lay down and die out here??! holding each other????

now she’s holding him!!!!!!!!! cradling his head!!!! ANOTHER pieta tableaux!!!!!! oh!!!!! how tf are they going to get out of there???????

GIANT HOLE where once a spaceship was!!!!!

well. SOMEHOW, they escaped. and how? this is never answered. which, like the lack of context as to how mulder got to antarctica, is deeply amusing to me. the writers didn't think about it that hard. i feel like they never do. still, i feel deprived of a scene where skinner comes and saves them!

scully is before the hearing team again!!! they don’t believe her report!!

so they’re burning down the crops and saying that they cannot investigate what she wrote in her report.

she angrily approaches and presents the honey bee, saying she doesn’t think the FBI has a team that can handle the evidence she has presented!!!!!!

skinner looks at the lady in charge... what does he want to say to her……..

and mulder reads a news report about the “fatal hanta virus outbreak in northern texas” being contained. was he waiting for her??? outside of her hearing!!! :(((

they’re just going to bury this, too…… she told them everything

she wants to go over their heads, but he doesn’t!!! “how many times have we been here before, scully? right here, so close to the truth. and now with what we’ve seen and what we know, to be right back at the beginning with nothing!”

“this is different, mulder”

“no, it isn’t! you were right to want to quit, you were right to want to leave me, you should get as far away from me as you can. i’m not going to watch you die, scully, because of some hollow, personal cause of mine. go be a doctor. go be a doctor while you still can”

“i can’t. i won’t. mulder, i’ll be a doctor, but my work is here with you now. that virus that i was exposed to- whatever it is, it has a cure. you held it in your hand. how many other lives can we save? look…. (she grabs his hand) if I quit now, they win”

so they walk off, holding hands :,)

WAHHHHHHH. "my work is here with you now" (LOUD SOBBING. SHE FOUND HER PLACE IN THE FBI)

cutscene to tunisia, where CSM finds another cornfield in the desert!!! so there must be more of these dome thingies. ohhh, they know him in tunisia. and he brings up mulder; “oh that name, again and again” LMAOOO get him random tunisian guy

“one man alone cannot fight the future” <- YEAH, WELL HE’S NOT ALONE. HE HAS SCULLY AND THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP. IDIOT!!

(CSM hands a paper to the tunisian guy, who walks away sadly)

it says…. X FILES REOPENED!!!!!!!!!!! YEAHHH BABY, WE ARE SOOO BACK!!! go sadly smoke in a desert cornfield, you murderous dweeb!!!

THAT IS THE END????

wait, hold on i better watch the credits for all this. there is even a song playing. and it sounds very 90’s.

so!!! they simply moved to a new alien plant farming base in tunisia???

so where do we go from here? how are they going to destroy all the other domes of evil bees and toxic corn and alien bases? what about the aliens who got loose from the collapse of that ship? did they get crushed or are they Out There? will the alien colonists know that there is a vaccine now because scully was saved, or will the humans be able to cover it up?? i have so many questions as to what just happened and also what will happen next!!!

(pauses to cheer at gillian’s name in the credits)

blythe danner is a hell of a name.

woah…. what am i thinking about?

i am thinking about how scully wants to save lives. forever and ever. and how mulder wants The Truth, and therefore their wants intersect, even if they approach it through different methods. and i am thinking about mulder wrapping scully’s naked and frozen body in his jacket and then stopping amid alien explosions to give her CPR. “had you big time”

and i am thinking about how there was no in-story explanation for them getting out of antarctica. but you know what? it doesn’t matter 💔

(i lied. it does matter to someone like me who needs continuity or my eyeballs start twitching)

and i am thinking about scully steadying mulder on their commitment to move forward.

and i am thinking about the scene in the hallway, the way he told her that needs her, that he is nothing without her…

wait, what the fuck? i left the credits on, and now the foo fighters are singing

okay. “i’m on your back”, they are singing. right, right.

see, i was really lost in thought there, but the fighting of the foo just threw me off.

oh my god. “i cannot be without you, matter of fact”, they sing, and yeah, that’s Them.

thinking of scully cradling his head as he lays in the ice……

thinking of the attempted kiss, and how mulder apologized because he thought he was violating a boundary (especially after scully had told him to “go home, you’re drunk” a few days before) and how he thought he somehow hurt her, but it was a sting!! it wasn't him that hurt her or broke her trust!!! and how scully described all of her symptoms with medical accuracy as she fell so that he could tell the doctors what she was feeling…

and i am also thinking of skinner trying to shove mulder back into the hospital bed………

wow. i have so much to think about. forever and ever. and i can just rewatch this whenever i want.

so, what did i actually think of the movie?? i liked it!! the dialogue was great and the character development was (chef’s kiss). it was weird to have so much plot when we are used to all of the alien stuff being slooooowly drawn out. and then well-groomed man was like “let’s have a story time in the car before i blow everything up!” which felt tonally off after 5 seasons of veeeeery slowly learning information about the aliens and the syndicate (and then half the time, whatever we do learn about the overall mythology of the series is immediately called into question, leaving us with only murky ideas, such as "there are aliens" and "they can change shape" and "the green goo kills them")

what matters is putting our characters in a situation and seeing how they play out. i don’t really tune in for the aliens. and while i do wish there was more consistency in the myth arc, again, ultimately that is not what i’m tuning in for. i watch for the undying devotion and some general spookiness.

so the aliens turning into people, or oil going into people and growing into aliens... or the oil BEING the virus that mutates and gets you alien pregnant... i don’t really understand that. so they had to cut krycek’s arm off so he didn’t grow an alien baby? and mulder, like, burned his out or something?

or was it the virus that causes you to grow an alien??? and that virus is from the bees and not from the oil? but the fireman that had the whole chest burster thing was hit by the OIL, not a bee!! did they put the oil in the crops and then the bees pollinate the crops and then they sting you and the oil goes in?? or is it evolved from the virus???

girl. i just don’t know.

skinner :((((( my uncle :((((((

AND THERE ARE EXTRA FEATURES!!

oh boy, i will surely have lots more to say at some point in the future, but now i want to see the EXTRA FEATURES. this is big for me, because i barely know anything about the behind the scenes stuff. so i shall learn here and now.

#wow! what a journey!#i took these notes about a week ago and there is still so much i am thinking about and processing #the dual pieta scenes of cradling limp bodies in particular... yeah <3 #the lore? doesn't make any sense to me. i feel like that meme where someone says “don't worry about it kitten” “okay yay❤️”#i think the rapid fire plot exposition felt very Off due to that Not Being A Thing in the show #but it was a very good film and i am happy to know it exists and that i can watch it again and again and again!#juni's x files liveblog #the x files #txf

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