#this fic was really long but it was fun to read <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 3/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

>PART ONE< / >PART TWO<

I'll spare you from everything, if you would still have me, I'll be waiting all my life

General Warnings: pining and longing and fluff galore!!! I think maybe sexual references but who remembers atp. angst (slut shaming, mentions of past relationships and I can't think of a better way to say daddy issues we've all been there)

A/N: we did it, Joe!!!! desktop tumblr really didn't want this to happen!!! I can't believe I finished this!! thank you guys so much for reading, and liking, and messaging me and reblogging and all the commentary, and all the love!!! I appreciate it so much!!

if there is a crossover of readers of on your side and readers of this fic (first of all ily) there is a little oys easter egg in here!! did I think through the logistics of this being set in the same universe? no. did I have fun anyway? yes. I fell in love with writing Luke in that fic so it was only right for me to add it in here!!

Happy New Year to everyone, thank you for reading my work!! 2024 was the year I finally plucked up the courage to write all my random thoughts down and the fact that it spiralled into this blows my mind a bit, but I'm grateful to be here!!

You can distinctly remember the first time you had properly taken notice of Luke Hughes, and it wasn’t back in the restaurant at the club like he probably thinks.

It had been early November, in your freshman year.

Ellie had finally convinced you to join her at one of the games at Yost, and you were bundled up in a coat two sizes too big, the only thing you had remotely close to team colours, and the only thing likely to keep you warm enough to tolerate a whole game and warm-ups.

You were watching the boys skate around, and he had caught your eye in an instant. 

“Who’s that one?” You had asked, pointing down to where number 43 was reaching out awkwardly to sweep up pucks with his stick. You could see the soft brown curls peaking out the back of his helmet from all the way in the stands, and his height made it unmistakable to realise that you recognised him.

He had come up to you at a Halloween party the week before, and if you hadn’t been so preoccupied by the fact that your only-just-ex boyfriend at the time was in the same room, his tongue down another girl’s throat, you might have been endeared by the boy in the dog costume. 

Friendly smile, boyishly handsome features and warm eyes that under any other circumstances might have made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him - you vaguely remembered the gift basket, and you knew he was in a couple of your classes, but you had never really spared him more than a fleeting glance before that party. 

As soon as he had noticed your teary eyes upon approach, his demeanour had changed in an instant, and where anyone else might have backed off, might have been uncomfortable or deterred, done a u-turn and given up on his mission to approach, his expression had softened - worried and caring in a way that made your throat go dry, and you had to dash off to the nearest bathroom to splash your tears away.

“That’s Luke,” Ellie had told you, “Luke Hughes, Jack’s brother.”

“Oh,” You had pouted, disappointed. Jack had made it painfully obvious that he wasn’t your biggest fan the first time you had met him, and if you’re honest, you were hardly a great admirer of his, either. 

Ellie had noticed your expression, had nudged you with her elbow until you took your eyes off of the figure on the ice, and had narrowed her eyes right at you. “Why?”

“He’s in a couple of my classes, is all,” you shrugged, eyes travelling back and finding him in an instant.

“Luke’s cool. You’d eat him alive, though, probably get bored within a week.”

“I wasn’t thinking about him like that,” you frowned, watching him skate around the ice with the grace and enthusiasm of a clumsy puppy dog. Cute. “Just curious.”

“He’s waaaay too nice for you,” she scoffed, and you had tried to swallow down the pang of offence you had felt, knowing she had very little of your past to compare him to. The two of you had only been roommates for a couple of months at that point, and she had only ever seen you interested in your ex. “He’s also kind of a like a little brother to me. Dorky and annoying, but I’m very protective of him.”

You had bit your tongue at how patronising that had sounded, knowing Ellie was one of the youngest people of your freshman class - a July baby - and Luke might even have been older than her. 

“Like I said, just curious.”

You had noticed Luke a lot more after that, though.

A quiet, recurring presence.

A seat behind you in business comms, a figure against the wall in the corner of the room at different parties, on posters that lined the walls and the perimeter of Yost Arena, in articles you edited for extra credit in the Michigan Daily. 

You had even made small efforts to get him to talk to you - never being the type to make the first move, yourself - started talking to his friends, some of the guys on the hockey team, had made sure his name was on the list for your sorority parties, you’d even dropped your pen once in class, and he’d just handed it back over with a soft smile, never uttering a word.

You wouldn’t call it a crush, but it was somewhere around the borderline of that - especially looking back after the summer you shared with him.

And you think, in retrospect, that if he’d have ever made a move, would have spoken to you even just once after the incident at the Halloween party, you probably would have developed one.

You hate to admit it, now, but he had been right all those weeks ago in the restaurant. 

He’s kind of inevitable like that.

By the time he disappeared in your sophomore year that little spark of something had mostly fizzled out, but it didn’t entirely stop you unintentionally keeping tabs. Stats that cropped up on the sports channels, articles in the paper, posts on your instagram feed.

And you don’t know what you would call it, the way he kind of stuck with you, but when you’d seen him in that booth in the beginning of summer - when he’d spoken to you in full sentences, had met your eye and held contact in a way that sucked you in like a vacuum - you kind of felt that spark reignite.

The boy you almost, kind of, could have known, once upon a time, finally making the effort to get to know you.

And Luke Hughes is persistent. You have a detached admiration for just how much. He pushes, and he presses, and he perseveres until all your resolve is gone - resolve you’ve spent years mastering, with quick wit and snark protecting your heart from anyone who dares to take aim for it.

But that detachment is waining. 

Especially as you lay on your front on your childhood bed, the NHL awards playing on the TV in your room back at your mom’s house, and you try to busy your hands with the crotchet kit you had picked up from the mall before you came home for a couple of days. 

Your admiration is blooming and blossoming in the depths of your stomach into something intricate and uncontrollable. 

And it has nothing to do with his name, his career, the award he is nominated for.

It’s just him. 

Larger than life on your TV screen, but it still doesn’t capture him in his entirety, and you think for the first time that you miss him. You miss movies in his bed, you miss watching him from the passenger seat of his BMW, the sun shining from the window beside him, illuminating his profile until you burn from the glare. You miss his stupid jokes and his teasing smiles, and you miss the warmth in your cheeks when he looks your way.   

And it’s only been like 2 days.

You miss Luke Hughes.

You kind of think you missed him before he even left.

You might have even missed him before you knew him, but that would be crazy, right?

Maybe he makes you crazy.

Maybe you need this week to recuperate, to attempt to build those walls back up before they’re damaged beyond repair. 

Luke hadn’t given much thought to missing you before he and his brothers left for Vegas. He’d been so caught up, internally, about his and Quinn’s nominations, that he had thought it would continue to distract him the whole time they had been out there, but boy was he wrong.

All he remembers about his trip is thinking of you, and when the boys got back, and you had been visiting your mom for the weekend, all he could do was think of you more.

He thought of you when they sat at the table for dinner, and your place across from his was empty. He thought of you when he watched movies alone, thought of texting you some sort of commentary as he worked his way through the list of rom-coms you had given him, but you hadn’t texted him yet, so he gave up quickly on that idea.

He thought of you in bed, thought of the last time the two of you had been in there, together, and if he’s honest, he thinks of that almost all the time. Of messy kisses, wandering hands, and connection so deep he doesn’t think it will ever fizzle out. 

And when he finally sees you again, he thinks he might have to get Quinn to source some sort of defibrillator for the house, because he swears his heart stops beating.

You poke your head into his bedroom, a shy smile on your face, and your bag is still on your shoulder, which means he had been your first stop, before you’d even gone to drop your things in yours and Ellie’s room. 

He sees you in the reflection of his mirror, and turns immediately, clumsy fingers releasing the tie he’s been struggling to get right for a couple minutes, and steps toward you before he can even begin to tell himself not to seem so eager.

“You’re back!” He grins, and when your face lights up in return, he can hardly find it in himself to care anymore how down bad he comes across.

“Yeah,” you breathe, stepping into the room, discarding your bag by the door and shuffling toward him. “You didn’t have get all dolled up for my return.”

You reach to take both sides of the tie into your hands, and he feels himself go warm all over at the mere proximity of you after so long apart. 

“It’s my cousin’s wedding,” he tells you as you start to knot the tie, knuckles brushing slightly across his chest until he’s holding his breath, lungs expanding so that he feels your touch a little more. “They’re having their reception at the club, later, you should come down.”

“You’re asking me to your cousin’s wedding?”

“Not like that,” he chuckles nervously as he looks down at you, eyes focused on the task at hand. “Just, haven’t seen you in a week, wouldn’t want to leave you here alone, it could be fun.”

Not to mention the fact he’s been watching the door for the past two days while he’s been home, waiting for you to get back and hoping it would be before the event, and he could figure out some way to ask you.

“You can’t just invite a random person to your cousin’s wedding reception, Luke.”

“She said I could!” He reasons, frowning when you raise a brow at him. “Not a random person, she said I could bring a friend.” He grasps gently at your hands as they straighten the fabric, halting your movements. “We’re friends, right?”

“If you say so.”

That wasn’t a no, he thinks, courage building within him in such a way that he starts to buzz with it. That would definitely have been a flat out no, before.

“You’d be doing me a favour.” He bargains, still holding your hands against his chest. “Quinn and Jack are bringing Josh and Turcs, I’d be like a fifth wheel,”

“So what you’re telling me is that you have no other friends?”

“Sure, if that’s what tugs at your heartstrings.” He has plenty of friends he could ask. Eddy, Duker, Luca - they’re all in town. None of them would look as pretty in a dress as you would, though. He wants to say there’s no chance of any of them kissing him after a few cocktails, but that would probably be a lie. “C’mon, they’re not gonna be checking IDs at the bar,” he wiggles his eyebrows in an attempt to convince you, “The free bar.”

“I don’t have anything to wear to a wedding,”

“What about that blue dress you wore to the formal last year?”

He remembers his throat going dry at just a picture - frosty baby blue silk against glowing skin, hair falling past your shoulders, the prettiest smile he’s ever seen in every photo.

And that is where misplaced courage gets him, he thinks. Letting slip that he has been creeping on your Instagram like some deranged stalker, because where else would he have seen you in that dress? He’d been in Jersey, by then. Scrolling down his timeline and swiping at every photo dump in what he didn’t even realise at the time was an obvious attempt to catch a glimpse of you.

Idiot.

“That was Ellie’s dress. I think she gave it to the Goodwill or something.” You frown, barely even picking up on his slip - unaware to the point that his heart rate can level back out to normalcy.

“You’ve got time to go shopping, you could get another,” he shrugs, reaching into the pocket of his pants. “Here, take my card.”

“Gee, thanks, Daddy Warbucks,” you push at his hand when he attempts to give it to you.

“I’m not adopting you. I’m more like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman.”

“Are you implying I’m a prostitute?”

“No,” he scoffs, only because, unintentionally, he totally was, and now he can’t get the picture out of his head - you in thigh high boots, legs for days stood out of the blue skirt, and the white top with the cutouts, soft summer skin he’s been missing the touch of peaking through - and he starts to wonder if that would be too much too soon to ask of you; to dress up for him like that. Maybe for halloween, if the two of you have progressed past whatever this is, by then. Keep dreaming, Hughes, he can already hear you saying. “More like a sugar baby.”

“I don’t need your money.”

“I’m trying to do something nice for you.”

“You don’t have to buy me things for me to like you.” You pout, and his own lips curl up at your defensiveness - so eager to prove yourself to him over something he isn’t even actually pressing. 

“Because you like me already?” He can’t help himself, a small voice in the back of his mind telling him to push, push, push at your buttons until you practically malfunction - craving you in whatever disoriented state it was that he had seen you in last, pliant and willing and crumbling so nicely for him to scoop up and piece back together. “Because you missed me?”

He shouldn’t want that - want to have to hold you in place, that is, not really - but he does. He wants to be the one that gets you like that. The only one. 

“What time’s the reception?”

That should also have been a flat out no.

Interesting.

You give in so easily, then, to the point where Luke gets giddy, letting you know when and where he wants you - always and anywhere, if he’s honest - and you roll your eyes as you agree, but you stay right in front of him long after you’ve finished with his tie, and he’s so tempted to kiss you that he’s buzzing with excitement. 

He sneaks a kiss to the corner of your mouth - quick enough that you don’t push him away, or make any sort of comment about it, and darts down the stairs at Quinn’s calls for him, leaving you to figure out whatever it is you need to do to be ready for later.

And he thanks his lucky stars that later comes before he has the chance to really dwell on it. His day passes in a blur, the ceremony over in a flash, family photos taken before he even realises he doesn’t need to force a cheesy smile, and only brief moments spared over the course of the early afternoon to think about the things he’s lacking.

As he sits in the church between his brothers, he realises that he wants to be sitting with an arm slung around you and a hand in your lap - your fingers swirling absentminded shapes into his palm as the two of you watch the ceremony side by side. Wants to look down at you staring up the aisle in bewilderment, a soft flush to your cheeks, a dopey grin on your face and a far-off look in your eyes. Wants to mutter stupid jokes in your ear and watch you twist your lips to bite back a giveaway smile. 

As he rides over to the club in the back of Quinn’s car, sandwiched between Alex and Josh with his brothers up front, he thinks he’d kill to have you in his lap - as illegal as that may be, but it’s only 5 minutes, and he’d make sure you were safe with an arm curled around your waist.

And when he’s waiting in the reception hall at the club, the late afternoon ticking into early evening, hearing speeches about falling in love and finding your person, he wants you in the seat beside him. Wants to rest his arm on the back of your chair, play with loose strands of your hair or stroke soft fingertips against your warm skin, and press gentle kisses into your temple.

It’s alarming how quick these thoughts consume him - his college years spent pining, his summer spent basking in whatever attention you choose to give him - and he can’t help but let himself be carried away with the hope of it all, that maybe he is wearing you down enough to give in to such thoughts.

Especially when he sees you walking in, and he swears the world has started moving in slow motion like a scene fresh out of one of those rom-coms you keep trying to subject him to.

His legs stretch without any instruction from his brain, pushing himself up onto his feet until he can make his way over and meet you halfway.

Your eyes light up and your hand lifts in a nervous wave as you start heading straight for him, the action causing the thin spaghetti strap of your dress to fall down your shoulder. 

“Hey,” he breathes out, in what feels like relief, mouth breaking out into a dreamy grin until you’re right in front of him.

“Sorry I’m a little late, it took me forever to find a dress, and then my hair wouldn’t go right, and then the Uber took every back road known to man despite me literally telling him,” Luke reaches to readjust the fallen strap as you talk, fingers trailing ever so slightly against the soft skin of your shoulder, “That I knew a quicker way, and then we ended up at those lights over on Palmer for like 10 minutes, I think I was in that car so long I’m all crinkly.”

His eyes drop slowly down your figure, the silky fabric clinging to your curves in all the right spots, the soft yellow a perfect match to the tie around his neck. “You’re beautiful,” he reassures you with ease, cheeks flushing ever so slightly when your eyes meet his - but he’s used to that, by now, the way his head goes hot when you look at him. “I was gonna get a drink, do you want one?”

He extends his hand out to you in invitation before you even nod in response, and when your fingers slide between his, the heat that is swirling around his head and face starts to spread down, past his neck, into his chest, settling there as the two of you make your way over to the bar. 

This last week without you has been hell.

Sat in his hotel room in Vegas, checking his phone for any sort of update - a text, an instagram post, a story - and wondering if that night before he had left had been playing on your mind the same way it had on his. 

Soft, slow kisses pressed into reciprocated lips, hands memorising every inch of each other’s bodies, desperate but intentional movements into one another. It was hardly his first time, but God, had it felt like it. It was definitely the first time he had ever felt anything that deep for another person - felt so connected, so attached.

And, despite the lingering insecurity that he thinks he might always feel when it comes to you, he knew you felt the same.

You had told him in the simplest terms - you wanted him - but you had shown him so much more. Eyes stuck on his as he moved against you, foreheads pressed together, lips seeking his at every given opportunity, nails scratching at the broad expanse of his shoulders when he had taken the lead and flipped the two of you over. 

Gasps and moans, pleading and pining, begging and singing for him as you came undone for the first, second and third time. 

He doesn’t know how you can possibly even try to carry on pretending you don’t feel even an ounce of the infatuation he does.

Not when you look at him the way you do, eyes sparkling and wanting. Not when he had spent the past week pressing his fingertips into the bruises you had kissed again into the lowest part his stomach like that had become your spot, hoping he could aggravate them enough to linger until you could make some more. 

Not when, even though the two of you have been stood at the bar now for a good few minutes, you haven’t made any efforts to take your fingers from where his are playing with them between the two of you.

“You never answered my question, earlier,” he hums as the two of you wait for your drinks.

“You talk so much, Hughes, you’re gonna have to remind me which question that was.” 

“Did you miss me?” His head tilts with curiosity as he watches the hesitation cross your features, lashes fluttering as you look up at him with your lips pressed together to keep them from spluttering out the truth. “I missed you.” He admits, in the hopes that expressing his candour might elicit the same in you.

“I’m surprised you found the time, you looked very occupied on your brothers’ stories.” Bingo.

“You been keeping tabs on me?” The smirk that accompanies the question is instinctual, and he manages to catch the slight shift in your demeanour before you can retreat, closing his fingers around your hand before you can pull it away. 

“No,” you scoff, and when you pull insistently for him to release your hand, the strap of your dress falls loose down your arm again, Luke’s eyes following before he fixes it for you once more. “Just stumbled across some pictures, I guess,”

“Yeah, you just tripped and fell into stalking me?”

“Don’t act like you weren’t doing the same, I saw those little 3 dots come up so often I was starting to think you were typing up the entirety of War and Peace.”

Which means you’d been lingering in your message thread with him, too. Gotcha.

“You know, the world won’t end if you just admit you missed me.”

“Fine.” It slips out before you know what you’re saying, eyes widening like a deer in the headlights as you realise you’ve already given in. “I missed you.”

He smiles, but doesn’t press, and it’s a smile that lingers as the two of you just look at each other, his eyes drifting down to watch your lips twist and press together, biting back whatever insult or chirp you’re just dying to throw his way to cover up. He waits for it to come, but loves that it doesn’t, and loves even more that you’re holding onto the moment as much as he is. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Luke asks a while later, once the two of you have gulped down a couple of drinks, have sat with the others for a little, and he’s watched you watch the dance floor with a yearning gaze.

Your eyes meet his after he poses the question, a confidence in his demeanour that has you crumbling immediately.

You nod, allowing him to guide you over to where a few other couples are swaying on the dance floor, and you let him guide you into his arms, one hand in his and the other resting on his shoulder. 

It should be awkward, you think, remembering back on all the times you’ve tried this before. School dances and proms, clumsily shuffling and trying to avoid being stomped on by your partner’s feet - but the two of you move with ease, and you’d like to think it’s because his body knows yours by now.

“This is so weird,” you mutter, eyes cast down to watch his feet move in his fancy Oxford shoes, a soft flush to your cheeks.

“What do you mean?” He asks, nerves heightening as he stiffens like he’s waiting for you to let him go - to step away and cut this short like it doesn’t make you feel the same way. 

“Slow dancing is for old folk like war veterans and millennials.” Your lips twist as your eyes meet his, and his lips turn up into a slow smile, a deep, melodic chuckle following closely behind.

“If you’d rather bump’n'grind on me, I get it,” he smirks.

“You’re such an idiot,” you scoff back, twitching to shake the hair from your shoulder, assuming that’s what is causing the shivers currently shooting down your spine, and not the large, possessive hand resting in the dip of your waist. 

“Y’know, I’ve realised something about you lately,” he starts, voice low as he leans in, angling into your exposed neck and stopping his lips within mere inches of your ear, “You have a tell.”

“A tell?” You turn, brow raised as your gaze meets his, faces close enough that you can feel the soft pants of his breath on your skin.

“For when you’re enjoying yourself more than you think you should be,” he hums, his eyes fluttering a little as they drop to watch your mouth, the swipe of your tongue wetting your lower lip. “You call me an idiot,” his hand on your waist squeezes ever so slightly, your back arching a little into his touch, “Or stupid,” he uses his other hand, the one clutching at yours, to pull you closer, “Or dumb, or a dork.”

You can feel your heart thudding at the call-out, beating in time to the music, in time to the way your bodies sway together, creating it’s own rhythm for the two of you to dance to. 

“Maybe you’re just a stupid, dumb, dorky idiot.” You squeak out, immediately hating the way the words taste in your mouth, your face souring and eyes narrowing in deliberation. There’s no way that was at all convincing, and the smirk that tugs up his lips is all you need to know he sees right through you.

“Maybe,” he humours you, anyway. “And yet, you can’t get enough of me.”

“A smug dorky idiot.” You correct yourself, cutting out stupid and dumb, the sharpness of those words cutting at your tongue like a knife. 

The pointlessness of such discussion almost waters down the exhilaration you feel at being this close to him, in public, nonetheless, where literally anyone else could call you out on your growing tolerance of Luke, could connect the dots regarding all the time the two of you have been spending together and wave the evidence of your growing affection like a chequered flag for all to see.

This definitely feels like you’re crossing the finish line.

And, of course, it’s Jack who does the honours, primed all night to find some way to get between you and Luke upon your arrival, stumbling up to the two of you at the end of the song you’re swaying to and laying a heavy palm on your shoulder.

“Isn’t this cosy?” 

“Fuck off, Jack,” Luke scowls before you get the chance, a pointed glare directed towards his brother, the palming grip at your waist growing faint as you try to wedge a little distance between the two of you, fighting a losing battle with your instinct to run and hide. 

“I need to talk to your girlfriend.”

“I’m not his-,”

“She’s not my-,”

The two of you speak simultaneously, and despite the fact that you were saying the exact same thing, him saying it kind of dampens your mood, putting a good couple of steps between you and Luke with your arms crossing over your chest as you look toward his brother. 

“Whatever. Can I borrow her for a couple minutes?”

“I’m not property, Jack, you can ask me directly.”

“Please can we talk? Alone?”

“Let’s go outside,” you huff, storming off before he has the chance to say anything else and making it all the way outside before he speaks again. 

“Sorry for interrupting, you and Luke looked kind of cute-,”

“What do you want?”

“I’m sorry I said you were messing him around, and that you were toxic.” 

You frown at him, watching as he diverts his gaze to the ground, nervously shuffling on his feet and fingers fidgeting with the cuffs on his shirt. 

“I’m sorry for all the things I said and did at that party, I didn’t mean them, I was just drunk and upset. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

You chew nervously on the inside of your cheeks as he talks, arms wrapped around yourself to shield from the brisk night air, and you watch as Jack starts to unravel before your very eyes.

For as long as you’ve known Ellie, for as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him as anything less than cool, calm and collected - it’s kind of the main thing that grinds your gears about him if your honest, the fact that he never seems real. Like he’s putting on some sort of persona to seem like he has all his shit together, when you know he doesn’t.

“I really like Ellie, you know,” he sighs, and you scoff, because of course you know that. “And I was blaming you for putting this wedge between us when it’s really me that’s been fucking up.” You know that, too. “I’ve been thinking about her this past week, and I really wanna pull myself together and finally do something about it. Stop being such an idiot.”

You bite your tongue from questioning the reality of that. He’ll always be an idiot, you think, but that’s best left unspoken. It’s not even personal to him, that’s just part of being a man.

“She likes you too,” You tell him instead, despite the fact that it goes against all sorts of girl code to do so. You’re doing them both a favour, and the universe should really just let you off, you feel. “I don’t know why either of you have wasted so much time when you’ve both felt the same way all along.”

“You really think she’d say yes if I asked her out?”

“I do,” you shrug, “And it doesn’t need to be done on some romantic boat trip or some crazy elaborate scheme, you should just ask her when she gets back next week. Like as soon as she comes through the door, it will save us all a headache.”

“You sound like Luke.”

“Yeah, well, he’s rubbing off on me, I guess.”

“I don’t need to hear what the two of you get up to when you’re alone, that’s my little brother.”

You reach over and shove at his arm, and for the first time ever, when your eyes meet his, neither of them are narrowed. He’s smiling, and you’re smiling too, and it feels a little like a weight has been lifted from your chest, fresh air filling your lungs.

“Let’s go back inside, Luke’s probably thinking we’ve killed each other.”

“I’m just gonna take a second, it’s kinda stuffy in there.”

Jack nods, before making his way back to the reception, and you make your way over to the fountain, heels working through the gravel until you take a seat on the side. 

It’s a couple of minutes before you hear footsteps, and before you see the fancy oxfords come into your view, eyes roaming up the long, lean body of the boy who has your brain running marathons.   

When your eyes meet, his gaze is warm, and it feels like he can see right through you. Like he’s looking into the depths of your mind, holding a big cheesy sign as he waits at the finish line for your thoughts to come to an end.

He sits wordlessly beside you, his knees knocking against yours, and waits for you to speak - although the silence doesn’t feel awkward, or forced. He waits, patiently and understandingly, and you feel like he’s giving you the time to figure out what you want to say. 

It feels monumental, this moment, like you’re teetering on the edge of something real and honest for the first time in a while.

“The other week, when we,” your voice feels heavy, thick at the back of your throat, “You know,”

“I was strictly advised to forget about it, so no, I don’t know,” he teases, and you’re kind of thankful that he’s trying to ease the tension you’re building for yourself. “But if you wanna jog my memory.” You shove lightly at his shoulder. “I’m kidding. What about it?”

“I’ve never really done that before?”

“What, snuck a guy up to his room in the middle of a house party and rocked his world?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You scoff, smiling to yourself, despite the weight of all that you’re about to admit to him. “I’ve only ever slept with one other guy, and he wasn’t very nice about it after, so I just,” you frown, “Don’t really do it.”

“You don’t-,” he frowns too, you can see it from your peripheral, eyes till on the hands fidgeting in your lap, “But I thought-,” You look over and meet his eyes, brows furrowed and lips parted in confusion. “What?”

“The first guy, Jamie,” you start, twisting to face him, knees knocking once more. “We started talking in the summer before my freshman year, got to know each other ‘cause he lived one town over from me and he’d come into work all the time, and then when I started college he was a sophomore, and he was the first guy to ever take, like, a serious interest in me. And we had a lot in common, he was on the soccer team, we grew up in the same area, we got on really well, it was the first time I ever really felt connected to anyone like that. But I’d never done anything before, so I wanted to take things slow,”

Jamie Reeves. Captain of the University of Michigan Soccer Team until he tore his ACL at the end of his last year, ruining all dreams of playing in the MLS, like it was entirely achievable for a player of his caliber anyway. You had been infatuated by him, though. The kind of infatuation that a younger you might have doodled little hearts around his name in all your notebooks.

And then he turned out to be a complete leech.

“Please don’t tell me he rushed you into it.” Luke straightens his posture, reaching to place his hand over yours in your lap, the touch immediately comforting, and his concern even more so.

“No. Not exactly.” You sigh, hating how dramatic you feel about the whole thing. “We went on dates, and things were going really well, so I figured I trusted him enough to be my first, then after we had sex he just went really off. He wouldn’t take me out anymore, wasn’t putting any effort in. And then people started asking me all these questions about him, and what we did, and I realised he was going around telling everyone all the details, like I was just some conquest he could tick off to the boys on the team.” You remember how ashamed you had felt, eyes on you in every corridor, whispers about you in every class. You couldn’t leave your dorm without someone muttering some obscene comment about you, and you just felt awful. “Every time one of them saw me they’d make all these dumb comments, and I just felt dirty all the time, like I’d done something wrong. Then I went to a party at Pike, the one at Halloween,” The party that Luke had approached you for the first time since you met, and you had stormed off in tears - not due to him at all, but due to the fact you had just seen Jamie sticking his tongue down someone else’s throat, mere days after you had seen him last. “And he was all over one of the girls on the field hockey team, didn’t even look my way again after that, not that I really wanted him to.”

“You haven’t been with anyone since?”

You shake your head. “Doesn’t stop people saying I have, though. I tried dating a couple times, but it always ended up the same way, rumours being spread about me sleeping around and being easy. And it’s so dumb, ‘cause it’s like I trusted one guy, and somehow it keeps backfiring on me.” You pay no mind, for the first time in a long time, to the crack in your voice as you say it, no longer afraid of showing any hint of vulnerability. Not to Luke. You need to get this out - get it out of the way, once and for all, so you can move past it. Move on, even, with someone you hope won’t treat you the same.

“Does that mean you trusted me?” 

You try not to think too hard about all the times the two of you have shared any level of intimacy - the physical touch mostly initiated by you, and it’s hardly ever on a whim. You think a lot about Luke, if you’re honest. About how he’s honest, and he sticks by his word when he promises not to tell anyone anything. How he always tries to make you laugh or smile, even if it’s something stupid. He isn’t afraid to embarrass himself with you, isn’t afraid to give you power, to let you take the lead. And even though sometimes he jokes otherwise, the times you hang out, he has no ulterior motives. He likes talking to you, likes watching movies with you, likes meeting your eye in a crowded room and giving you one of those smiles that have started to make your heart stutter with something unidentifiable.

“I guess so.” Your shoulder lifts in a nonchalant shrug, your words anything, but. “I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it since and I can’t explain why it happened but I feel like you and me are-,” 

Connected? Compatible?

You know what he would say you are. You don’t know if you’re there, yet.There are so many things the two of you have become over the past few weeks, so many things you’ve wanted to be for longer than you even realised, so many things you’re afraid to say.

“I feel like out of everyone, you’d have no reason to lie to me. Or about me.”

“I wouldn’t. I didn’t know all that stuff,” he frowns, and it seems like his mind only just makes sense of all the times you threatened him after the fact, making sure he wouldn’t tell anyone that the two of you kissed, or hung out alone in an intimate space and maybe potentially enjoyed yourselves. He had thought you were ashamed of it - but all this time, you’ve been protective. Of yourself, of the trust you were building in him. “Why don’t you tell people, that those guys are all lying?”

“No one would believe me,” you shrug, eyes cast down to where his hand still rests on yours, and his touch prevents you from picking nervously at the skin around your nails.

“I do,” He assures you, “And I promise the next time I hear anyone say any of that stuff about you, I’ll beat their face in.”

“Yeah, you’d drop gloves for me?”

“Look at you with your hockey talk.” He coos, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, where you had barely noticed a tear trailing down until he wipes it away with his thumb, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I would. We’re partners, remember? I’ve got your back.” He extends his pinkie out to you, and you curl yours around it until he’s tugging it toward him, leaning down to press his lips to your knuckle, his kiss like a promise as his green eyes meet yours. 

It doesn’t gross you out, this time. If you’re honest with yourself, it hadn’t the first time he did it, either. It was cute, in an entirely dorky and childish and almost nostalgic way.

And you’re compelled to do the same, leaning and touching your pouted lips to his pinky, eyes fluttering closed as you kiss his skin, the rush of blood to your head somehow louder than the steady stream of the fountain beside you. 

“Listen,” he starts, lowering his hand but keeping your pinkies interlocked, resting them between you both on the stone. “If whatever this is that we’re doing makes you uncomfortable, or brings all that stuff back, I can back off a little.”

Something akin to disappointment floods through your system, your heart rate picking up in a panicked staccato, but you try to stay cool - still, for whatever reason, holding your cards close to your chest. 

“I can make sure my brothers don’t make any more stupid comments about us, they’re doing it to annoy me, not you. And I can,” he takes a deep breath, eyes flickering between yours as if to gauge your desires before he has to reluctantly pander to them. “I can stop, too.”

You nod, because it’s all you can do to shake away the tears threatening to flood your lash line at just the thought of him giving up on you. 

It’s the lump in your throat that blocks the words coming out to tell him as much, and your lips twist in discomfort as you take in the way he’s looking at you - gaze filled with dwindling patience and waining resilience. There’s only so far you can continue to push him, you can see that now, and if you’d have told the version of yourself that first sat down with him all those weeks ago - the version of yourself that refuted any chance of ever warming up to him, that saw him as nothing more than an annoyance, a disturbance to your tips for the day - that the thought of him stopping whatever you have would make you feel like this?

That cold-hearted bitch would have laughed in your face. 

“Hey, lovebirds!” There’s a shout from across the courtyard, and Quinn  appears in the distance with hands cupped around his mouth. The intrusion has you retracting your hand, and you can see the way Luke reacts in your peripheral, a resigned nod given instinctually before he looks over to his brother. “I’m driving home if you two want a ride!”

Luke doesn’t look back at you before pushing himself up, but he offers a hand to help you stand, and the two of you walk in silence to meet Quinn by the exit.

The car ride back to the house is silent, too, save for the soft hum of the radio that filters through the car. Josh sits up front with Quinn, head lulling against the window as he falls asleep worryingly quick, and you’re squished in the middle between Luke and Alex, Jack having stayed back with their parents. It’s hard not to press your legs against Luke’s - his are so gangly and long that they take up more than their fair share of room, and it’s much less awkward despite the circumstances to be touching him than touching Turcs. You feel a lot less tense when you’re touching, anyway. 

And when Quinn pulls up, Luke still helps you out of the car - ever the gentleman, even in the face of apparent rejection.

Quinn and Alex work at lugging an overly inebriated Josh up to his room, leaving Luke to guide you through the house, and the silence starts to become unbearable as he whispers a quick and quiet goodnight, leaving you at the door to yours and Ellie’s room as he makes his way down the hall.

“Hey, Luke,” you call out in a whisper toward him as he retreats, his tall frame turning, a gleam of what you interpret as hope flashing across his green eyes.

“Yeah?” He hums back, voice low as not to disturb anyone else, gaze meeting yours, locking in place with an almost audible click.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

You’re worried for a second you’ll have to expand, that maybe his slightly intoxicated memory doesn’t stretch as far back as to remember the conversation the two of you had had out by the fountain. 

Elaborating on it would be embarrassing to say the least - because what, exactly, are you supposed to say?

I don’t want you to stop flirting with me.

I don’t want you to stop kissing me when no one else is around.

I don’t want you to stop being the only person I can talk to.

I don’t want you to stop bulldozing into my very secure and sturdy walls, thank you very much. They’re starting to tumble down in what could be a very calamitous fashion.

Worried you might have to expose a little more of yourself than you had originally anticipated, you chew at the corner of your lip, waiting.

But then he smiles - in that easy way that makes your bones feel like jelly, your knees weakening to the point that you lean against the still-closed door of your room. In the way that has that loudmouth voice you’re trying too often to suppress within you screaming, God, he’s so cute!

“I know,” he smirks, the bastard, liquid courage running deep through his veins, “Inevitable, remember?”

You scoff, almost instinctively rolling your eyes despite the endeared warmth that floods your belly. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” he says again, “You coming?”

And all you can do is nod, biting back a fully-fledged smile before you’re rushing over and slotting yourself under his outstretched arm.

You definitely enjoy him more than you should.

Living with boys for the first time in your life has taught you a lot over the weeks you’ve been staying at the lake house.

The first is that they’re weirdly messy - in ways that shouldn’t bother you, but they do. It isn’t clothes left around, or dirty plates - but it’s hand soap crusted around the spout by the faucet, shoes kicked off and discarded at random points throughout the house, and they, for some bizarre reason, never put the lid back right on anything.

The second is that they’re loud - and that should have been anticipated. Guys are notoriously obnoxious. But it isn’t just their voices that carry. It’s footsteps up the stairs, stomping in the dead of the night when one of them needs a drink. It’s chewing their food, or slurping their coffee, or scraping the feet of their chairs against the floor when they’re sat at the dining table. It’s tapping their hands on their knees in haphazard rhythm whenever there might be an ounce of peace that they, without a doubt, misunderstand for awkward silence. 

And the third is that they probably couldn’t organise a fire in a match factory. And that goes for a lot of things - the kitchen cupboards, their laundry loads, and, most importantly, one of the many parties they love to throw.

It wouldn’t bother you so much - they usually work out in the end - but this time, it’s Ellie’s birthday, and the way they leave everything until the last minute is about to give you an aneurysm or something. 

There’s no food, no drinks, no cake, no decorations, and the party is tonight.

And Jack, who’s grand idea it had been to throw her a party in the first place, seems to have kidnapped her - disappearing and leaving you to try and figure out what’s going on.

Cole is the one who finds you in the kitchen, spiralling out, frantically trying to put together some kind of list so that one of the guys can go to the store and pick up the bare minimum to throw a party together - and he manages to calm you down - gathers the rest of the guys and helps come up with a plan, sharing out different categories. Quinn and Josh are down to get drinks, Cole and Alex are down to get food, and you and Luke are down for decorations. 

And then within the next five minutes, you’re back up in your room, transferring things from one of your bags into a tote, so you can carry more stuff back to the car without having to bring back a load of plastic, and Luke is sat on your bed, leaning back onto his hands as he watches you, green eyes still tickling your skin with their tangible watch. 

“I know we’re on a time crunch, but could we make another pit-stop at the mall? I still need to find a present for this baby shower.”

“Oh, actually, I made you something.”

“You made me something?” You can feel him watching you as you dig through the bag you’d brought back with you from being home.

“Yeah, I was bored, when you guys were gone, I forgot to give it to you when you got back, got kinda distracted by the whole wedding thing,” you tell him, reaching blindly to try and find the little figure. “I went by that art supply store and picked up one of those kits,” You finally find it, pulling out the little crotchet animal that may or may not have been your fourth attempt. The first had a stubby neck, the second had uneven legs, and you don’t think the third one’s face was anywhere near appropriate to be gifting to a child. This one isn’t perfect, but you’d honestly reached your limit with it. “Don’t make it a thing, it was like therapy while I was back home to be honest.”

“Oh that’s adorable.” He pouts, accepting it from you and immediately turning it back, bobbing it’s head as if to greet you. “Why a giraffe?”

“Long neck,” you smile, reaching out to pat it. “Reminded me of you.”

“Ha ha,” he rolls his eyes, but the laughter feels real enough. “She’ll love it.”

“She?” It slips out by instinct before you can check yourself, eyes widening as his meet yours again, his lips twitching in the corners. “Thought you said it was for your captain,”

“It is.” He smirks, “Men can’t carry babies last time I checked.” 

You nod, because of course men can’t carry babies. Of course the shower is for the mother of the baby - who you vaguely remember Jack and Luke talking about - someone who works with them back in Jersey. Someone they’re both close to, clearly, if Luke’s stressing this much about a gift.

“Wait, are you jealous?”

“No.” You scoff, frowning purposefully, lips turning down in forced denial.

“You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

“You want to take this back now, huh?” He holds the giraffe in a way that it bends, adorably, like he’s trying to taunt you with it, and it’s wonky eyes do little to distract from the charm he gives it.

“Nope.” You shrug, “You can give it to whatever girl you want, doesn’t bother me at all.”

“Of course not,” he stands, stepping toward you slowly, “You couldn’t care less what I do away from this house, right?”

“Right.” You gulp, looking into soft green eyes, your legs starting to wobble at the knees, strength and integrity waining as the seconds pass. You really don’t know why you’re still keeping this game up. Ever since that night of the wedding, you’ve been sneaking off into Luke’s room as soon as Ellie falls asleep. You fall asleep by his side, and he wakes you when he gets up early, so you can sneak back without Ellie realising you’ve even gone.

You’ve kissed him every day, sometimes tender, sometimes torrid - over the centre console of his car when he drops you off at work, in his bed before you drift off to sleep, in the kitchen when you sneak off under the ruse of refilling your drink. He can tell the difference between the flavours of lip balms you wear, comments on it like he has a little ranking system filed away somewhere in the back of his mind. You both whisper your secrets in the dark of the night, and you had promised him that you would try to open yourself up more to him.

“I thought we were past this,” he hums, stepping closer, voice low in a way that buzzes through your bones. “Thought we were being honest with each other, now.”

“Honest?” You ask, voice weak, neck craning now to look up at him, eyes boring into your own as he advances on you. 

His hand reaches to cup your jaw, to tilt your head just that bit further, and presses his lips straight to yours instead of elaborating any further.  

He’s tentative, at first. Gentle, even. Fingertips ghosting along the side of your neck, pulling you closer, less with any physical force and more so with pure magnetic attraction, your skin humming - buzzing, even, to be touched by him in any which way. 

Your chin tilts as your mouths slot together in a soft, slow kiss, and when his lips touch yours, everything else fits perfectly into place. The fingers of his left hand press firmly into the flesh of your hip, now, using a slight force to manoeuvre you how it suits him - as close as he can physically get you - and those on his right reach around enough to slightly curve towards the back of your neck, applying just enough pressure so that your chin angles upward to deepen the kiss, his tongue pressing a pleading invitation into your bottom lip.

An invitation you immediately grant him, your hands finding their place on his body with ease, one flat against the warm expanse of his chest and the other matching his, soft fingertips grazing the skin of his neck until they tangle in the slight overgrowth of curls at the nape.

Everything feels so fluid, so effortless, and yet, so new - like this is the first time you have kissed, an eruption of fresh feelings bursting through you. There’s still a familiarity that lingers - one of ease, where it’s like your bodies have each other mapped out, already. You know every cell of him and he of you, and it’s evident in the way the moment escalates.

Your bodies naturally gravitate towards the nearest surface, his fingers reaching out behind your hip to soften the blow of him pushing you into the dresser, your back arching, feet moving in sync as not to tangle and trip, or stumble and break the kiss.

But there’s nothing else clumsy about it.

He lifts you with ease, the cold surface only a slight shock to the system, and it brings you to the perfect height where he can seamlessly move his kisses from your lips, past your jaw, down your neck and into the crevice of your collarbones, leaving a trail of the sticky residue of your lip balm. 

Strong hands cup your thighs, parting your legs until he can stand between them, and your fingers bury themselves into his curls, pushing into him however you can. 

When his fingers graze the inside of your thigh, his lips part from the hot skin of your clavicle, and his head tilts slightly until his darkened green eyes meet yours.

“Please,” you breathe out before he can even ask, beyond caring for whatever particles of pride you’ve been desperately trying to cling to when you watch his lips curve slowly into the most panty-dropping smirk you think you’ve ever seen.

“Please what?”

Your lips part as if by instinct, a biting remark fizzling out on the tip of your tongue as your mind works for some kind of comeback, for some semblance of resistance to whatever this version of him is, but there’s nothing. Just a frantic plea for him to do anything to you. Whatever he wants.

Your hips shuffle forward as if led by a mind of their own, trying to force his hand up, only for him to follow the movement of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you find yourself pouting, spikes of heat flashing through you at the way you can see the thoughts crossing his mind, of all the ways in which he can torture you - putty in the palm of what you thought were safe hands.

“Tell me you were jealous,” he prompts, leaning forward to press a teasing kiss to your lips, “Tell me that the thought of me even talking to another girl makes your skin crawl.”

Don’t let him get cocky, a voice prevails in the back of your mind, despite the accuracy of his words. Tell him he’d have to have an ounce of game for you to be remotely worried, tell him the only thing that makes your skin crawl is his incessant need to mouth off all the time. Tell him, tell him, tell him!

“I was jealous,” you breathe out instead, chasing the victorious smirk that stretches across his lips in the hopes you can kiss it away.

Jealous of a girl you’ve never met, in a relationship with another man, pregnant with his child, not remotely interested in Luke.

A girl who gets to see him all the time, who knows him probably in ways you might never, who he cares enough about to want to gift her something meaningful. Who he casually texts and smiles at his phone as he’s doing so, who he and Jack talk affectionately about in ways they’ll never talk about you.

You’ve officially lost it. 

“And if you don’t touch me in the next 3 seconds,” you carry on, scrambling to claw back one single iota of your dignity, your hands gripping at his broad shoulders, “I won’t let you touch me again.”

Luke laughs. Practically snorts at you, eyes crinkling in the corners in pure amusement. Your dignity is long gone.

“1,” you start, your voice shakier than you’d ever like it to be, and his hands move to either side of your hips, clutching at the edge of the dresser.

“2,” you didn’t think you could sound worse than before, definitely longer than a second ago, but you’re quickly proven wrong as you watch him leverage that grip to push himself upright, creating a distance between the two of you that drains all the heat from your body.

“3.” he finishes, taking a step back and watching you with unadulterated hunger in his eyes, daring you to follow through with your threat - and the smug idiot knows you won’t.

He knows it’s coming, even anticipates the way in which you pounce on him, arms ready to catch you when you throw yourself down onto the ground in front of him, landing with a quick thud that jolts you straight into him. Hands at either side of his face pull him down, and he does half of the work in bending his back so it isn’t as clumsy. 

You tangle yourself up in him, legs twisting between each other until you’re stumbling toward the bed, and it’s as soon as you get your fingers back into his hair, as soon as his hands are pushing your top up, grazing at the warm skin of your back, that you hear a call of your name.

You falter back from him just as the door swings open, managing to create a reasonable amount of distance as Ellie swaggers in, voice still raised as she asks, “Have you seen my-,” It’s Luke that she sees first, eyes zeroing in on his flushed face with pin-point accuracy, her brows furrowing as she takes him in, heaving chest and messy hair and all. “Lip gloss?”

Lip gloss? Is she joking? 

“You came all the way back up here for lip gloss?” You ask, still slightly breathless and brain fogged, and feeling very much like you’ve just put all your chips on the table and watched them get swept away in seconds. 

You watch as Ellie’s eyes dart to Luke’s mouth, watch him grow conscious of the balmy coating smeared across his lips, and you feel your heart stop in it’s place, your chest squeezing in anticipation of a thump thump thump that doesn’t come.

“No,” she mutters, diverting her attention back to you with a sobering shake of her head. “Balm,” she corrects, “The kind with SPF, I think I’m burning, I didn’t realise me and Jack were gonna be gone all morning.”

“Uhm, yeah,” you breathe, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ears in the hopes it helps cool your head down, some. “I have some in my bag.”

Your tote is on the dresser you had just been placed on yourself, and you use the opportunity to dig through it to will the burning sensation in your ears away, levelling out your breathing as you root around for a tube of lip balm you know is in there somewhere.

“Could you check for my car keys, too? I was thinking we could drop by the mall for lunch. Catch up” She adds, with a forced wiggle of her brows, clearly what she had actually come up here for, and you fish those out too, throwing them across to her. “Quinn’s looking for you before you go, Luke, something about a list.”

“I should go check what he wants,” Luke mumbles, putting another few steps of distance between you before he offers an awkward wave, and departs the room with heavy feet that you hear stomp all the way down the hall, the last thing you see of him being a skinny, lopsided crochet giraffe poking out of his back pocket.

Apparently Jack’s plans of keeping some element of surprise for the party had gone out of the window as soon as he had got her alone - and you’re kind of grateful for the fact.

Keeping secrets from Ellie is stressful - you of all people would know, you’ve somehow managed to keep a pretty big one from her all summer - and she usually has a way of figuring things out on her own.

You probably would have folded to her - just the two of you out together, sipping smoothies in the food court at the mall - if he hadn’t already filled her in one the plans for the night. 

It makes up a little for his lack of effort, earlier - especially now that your hands are clear of it. You don’t know how much you trust the guys to put something together while you and Ellie are looking for an outfit for her, but you have no choice but to leave them to it. Jack had reassured you he had everything under control, and despite the absurdity of that statement, it’s nice for that panic you had been feeling earlier to have been flushed away.

“I think tonight’s the night,” Ellie sighs dreamily, elbow resting on the table and her chin in the palm of her hand, “We had this really deep conversation while we were out walking, and he pretty much told me he has feelings for me, he was really nervous, it was kind of cute.”

“I’ll take your word for the cute thing,” you chuckle, sipping at your smoothie and smiling at how happy she looks. It’s nice to hear, her having hope about the situation for once, instead of dread or fear. 

“He said you two spoke at his cousin’s wedding,”

“It was nothing,” you shrug, “He didn’t need any interference from me to realise he likes you, El, he just needed a nudge.”

“I can hardly call you out on interfering,” her lips twist, nervously, “I’ve kind of been doing the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you think I’ve been hanging out with Cole so much all summer?”

“Cole?” You frown, leaning back into your chair, “You’ve lost me.”

When you’d last spoken to Ellie about Cole, she had told you they just got along, and there was nothing more to it - and you had no reason to believe otherwise. When you and Luke had been in the midst of your own interference, and you had been playing third wheel to their hangouts, they had been getting along. Almost like siblings. Cole never flashed her those flirty winks or toothy grins that he gave everyone else. 

“He’s into you.” She says, finger swiping in the ring left behind from her smoothie cup on the table, “And I was kind of giving him advice on how to approach you. I figured you wouldn’t mind, ‘cause he’s like your normal type, and you seemed like you liked him-,”

“I’m sorry, you think I like Cole?” 

You’re taken aback. You don’t remember giving any sort of indication you were ever into Cole Caufield.

Maybe you could have been, before this summer - would have probably fallen victim to his cheeky smiles or his teasing banter. He’s probably closer to your usual type, if you even have one. Confident, with a presence that sort of demands attention. But you realise, now, your attention should be earned - in more than just a flash of cute teeth and boyish features.

In dumb jokes told just to bring you out of a bad mood, and a car with the AC dialled up waiting for you after a shift on a hot day. In hands that offer you help before you ever have to ask, and eyes that see so far beyond what version of yourself you try to put out there.

You could have liked Cole, in another world, or another life, if another boy wasn’t around. 

“I did until I walked in on you kissing Luke, earlier.”

You blink slowly at her, mouth agape as she stares blankly back. 

What the fuck?

“I wasn’t kissing Luke,” you scoff, denial making your face twist in funny ways that you can even feel look deranged. “We were talking.”

“Into each other’s open mouths?” She snickers, “Unless he’s been digging around in our stuff when we’re not around, I can’t think of any other reason he’d have left the room with Summer Fridays Vanilla Beige smeared all over his lips.”

“It was Brown Sugar, actually.” You correct her, guiltily, hoping the words you mutter next through pouted lips don’t quite make it to her ears. “He says it’s sweeter.”

“Oh my God.” She guffaws, mouth agape and eyes wide in realisation. “How long has this been going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” you deny, although you can feel heat creeping up your neck, already. “We just get along-,”

“We get along, and you don’t welcome me home with an open mouth.”

“Ellie-,”

“Listen, he’s not just some guy that you can mess around with, he’s way deeper into you than you probably realise, and-,”

“I like him, okay?” you blurt out, voice just loud enough to be heard over her rambling but not enough to carry anywhere else, and the silence that follows is almost deafening - prolonged in a way that you can’t even remember if you said anything, or not.

But the way Ellie is looking at you tells you enough.

Why is everyone so caught up on you breaking his heart?

As if you aren’t putting the entirety of yours on the line.

“Luke?” She asks, like the two of you haven’t just been talking about him. “You like Luke Hughes?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, leaning onto your elbows and pressing the palms of your hands to your face, eyes scrunching tight to try clear up some mind space to make sense of what it is you’re admitting to.

It makes sense already, to you. Verbalising it is the problem.

He’s charming, he’s funny, he makes you laugh, most times unintentionally but that doesn’t make your feelings dwindle in the slightest. 

He’s weirdly passionate about that one horse movie and won’t shut up trying to get you to watch it with him, but it’s endearing in a way that you want to kiss him to shut him up. Or maybe even watch it, God forbid.

He literally never stops eating, but it’s like his body is in tune to yours now, and he always makes double if he feels like you might be hungry so you don’t ever have to ask, which is weirdly sweet.

When you lay beside him in the middle of the night, you don’t feel pressured to do anything other than talk.

And when you do, he listens to you - retains information and checks up in a way that makes you feel seen, makes you feel a way you haven’t in a really long time. He doesn’t talk over you, or dismiss your feelings, or try to change the topic when things go a little too deep or get a little heavy. He shares the load, asks questions that make you think and process things in a new way, and he isn’t patronising when he does so. He doesn’t say things that sound like they’re straight out of a Psych 101 textbook like your feelings are valid or what makes you think that?

And he compares your wildly different worlds in a way that doesn’t feel like a competition. His troubles aren’t worse than yours, his life isn’t harder.

You’re equals.

You’ve never felt like anyone’s equal, not even Ellie.

It’s like with all the other parts of your life that make you hurt, make you feel small and insignificant - they fade away when you’re with Luke.

His corner of your world is bright - despite the seemingly inexhaustible snark-meter constantly ticking between you two - it’s easy, doesn’t weigh down on you or make your chest feel tight, not in that way, at least.

You’ve been introduced to a whole new influx of feelings in your chest by Luke.

You can give in to the ugly side of yourself that wants to bite at him until there’s nothing left, to push whenever he gets a little too close, and you don’t have to worry that you’ll scare him off or push too far, ‘cause he’ll just pull you with him and bite back - only, it doesn’t hurt like when anyone else does it. Somehow, you think he savours the parts that other people might spit out - chews and swallows and rubs at his belly in satisfaction like you’re the best meal he’s ever had. 

Despite all the other things that have shattered your heart, Luke Hughes makes it feel whole, again.

And it should make you feel sick - lovey-dovey stuff like that usually does, your walls shooting straight up at the first sign of affection from anybody, metaphorical sneakers on and carrying your legs as far and as fast as they can run - but this doesn’t.

You don’t want to run from Luke, not really.

“I thought you said he was dorky and annoying.”

You’re pretty sure she had been the one to say that, at some point, but you don’t remember arguing the fact, so you don’t bring it up.

“He is.” You pout. He’s also apparently inevitable. “He kinda crept up on me, I guess.”

Ellie is quiet for a minute as she watches you, eyes narrowing as she takes you in - shoulders slumped, lips pouted, defeated.

“Why not just tell him, then? Why hide it?” She asks, leaning onto the table too until your faces are level when you peak up at her, “You know he likes you back, right? He’s got the biggest crush on you, it’s borderline problematic.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really understand why he likes me.”

“Does it matter?”

It does. You don’t want to keep running, but you can’t really help it. There’s something ingrained deep within you that is trying to shelter yourself from all the ways in which succumbing to these feelings will inevitably hurt you.

“Luke’s way smarter than me, and he’s way more successful, he’s kind and he’s generous, he comes from a great family, has this great house, we have literally nothing in common, and he doesn’t see that now because he just thinks he’s attracted to me, and he likes that I don’t just fold to him because he’s some superstar, but the second that’s gone,” you sigh, trying to swallow down the hurt in your voice, blink away the onslaught of tears, “He’ll just get bored of me like everybody else does, and then he’ll be gone. And I’ll just be some girl he broke up with and left behind, and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

Ellie frowns, a strained mutter of your name called as her hand falls to yours in an attempt to comfort you. “You’ll never know if you don’t try, babe.”

“No, I know.”

It’s all you’ve ever known.

Men who start off treating you like some prized possession - cherishing you, making you feel valued and loved - and the second the shine wears off, the second something even newer, even brighter, even sparklier, crosses their path, they’re gone.

And you’re left behind wondering what it is about you that keeps driving them to leave.

It happened with your dad, with his new wife and their perfect kids - the boys he always wanted, who he never had to force himself to like. The dream family he abandoned you to pursue. It happened with Jamie, with all the girls he saw after you, with the way he never even looked your way again, even after all the secrets you shared, and the promises he made. With all those other boys who never saw you as anything more than a fabricated story to spread for a few brownie points with their buddies in the locker room.

It will happen again.

These feelings you have for Luke - the comfort he gives, the contentment, the ease in conversation, the warmth he bathes you in until your skin prunes and he seeps in through the cracks - they’re better kept to yourself. It’s easier that way, to keep this whole heart under lock and key, not giving anyone a chance to break parts off and keep it for themselves.

It’s almost perfect the way it is.

Safe, even from the clutches of the boy who pieced it back together, brick by laborious brick.

“There isn’t long left of the summer, anyway,” you go for a nonchalant shrug, but your shoulders feel heavy, and it turns out more like an arduous huff. “I doubt he’s shy of female attention back in Jersey, he’ll forget I ever existed before he even knows it.”

“You should talk to him,” Ellie suggests, “At least let him know where you stand, even if it’s to tell him things can’t go further.” 

The thought of it is too daunting. Looking into those gleaming green eyes and laying your heart on the line.

You can pretend all you want to Ellie, to yourself, even, that you wouldn’t want more, but you don’t think you could keep up the show with him.

“He deserves at least that.”

And damn it, she’s right.

Maybe he even deserves a proper chance.

Luke never thought he’d regret kissing you for any reason, but he’s wishing he had practiced some restraint up in your room, earlier.

If he hadn’t advanced on you, had let you pack your bag and got you out of the house before Ellie and Jack got back, he could have followed through on his plan of action for the day.

A plan he’d been hyping himself up for, all week - getting you on your own, talking things out, maybe even asking you out. Properly. Not just dinner at the mall, but a real date. Planned, perfected. A fancy dinner, or a trip to the movies. A picnic blanket laid out somewhere with a nice view, and an abundance of your favourite snacks. 

He wants to kiss you without having to hide it, anymore.

He wants to walk with you tucked under his arm. Wants to have you in his lap when there’s too many people over at the house, and the group are struggling for space on the couches in the den. 

He also sort of wants peace of mind, but what’s that compared to not having to sneak around, anymore. 

He’d made his mind up in the morning, waking up beside you at 5am, rousing you from your sleep with soft mutterings of your name, and lips pressed to your cheek until he could feel you smile. 

“Hi,” your voice had been croaky, and your movements slow, shuffling against him as your skin became illuminated by the soft glow of the rising sun slipping through the gap in the curtains. Your legs had been tangled with his under the sheets, and you did little to untangle them, and he was tempted to lock his so that you couldn’t. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, lips still moving against your skin, nipping at your cheek, your jaw, your throat, and your fingers rose until they clutched at the back of his hair, curls wrapping around them as you held him in place. 

“What time is it?”

“Around five,” his own hands landed on your waist, slipping under the hem of your tank, and trying to savour the warmth of your skin, your body hot from being against his all night. “Figured you’d need to be a little earlier today with it being Ellie’s birthday and all.”

“Thank you,” you used your soft grip on his curls to tug, until his face left the crook of your neck, and you blinked softly, smiled sweetly, and he felt his heart beat at twice the normal speed. You leant up and kiss him, straight on the lips, and he smiled against you just as you pulled away. 

He felt cold all over as soon as you detached yourself, and he rolled onto his side to watch as you stood, arms raised to stretch and lifting the bottom of your tank top to rise up your belly.

He felt robbed. Like he deserved longer with you, and it had been as you crawled back over your side of his bed, and had kissed him once more before leaving, that he had decided he needed to do something about it.

His original plan had been to steal you away at some point in the night, everyone else too distracted by the party to notice or care, but being teamed up with you to go get decorations seemed like it would work too.

Until Jack came back and fucked his plans up.

Jack said that he would go get the food with Turcs, that he had already paid for a cake, and he had to show his ID when he picked it up. He said Ellie shouldn’t have to do anything, and that you would be the best person for her to do nothing with, which left Luke picking up decorations with Cole.

It wasn’t that he minded Cole’s company, but Cole isn’t you.

He probably could have tucked Cole under his arm as they walked side by side through target and picked up a bunch of of banners and streamers, given the logistics of their height difference, but it wouldn’t have been as cute.

He has managed to get a lot of unexpected information though. And of course, his only thought is that he can’t wait to share it with you. 

Cole tells Luke how he and Ellie have only been hanging out all summer to make Jack jealous.

He bites his tongue to refrain from telling him that sort of trick doesn’t work on his brother, but Cole seems too pleased with himself for Luke to rain on his parade, and he finds it kind of funny that everyone’s been working to get the two of them to wake up to their feelings, not just you and him.

Cole might have even ended up putting more effort into it than you and Luke did, acting as a go-between for Jack and Ellie, and raising the stakes for both of them to make a move.

“And what do you get out of any of that?” Luke chuckles as he works at taking the banners out of their plastic wrapping, Cole taking the plastic and putting it straight into the trash.

The smile drops as soon as Cole says your name, though, and Luke’s hands stop in place. “Ellie’s been giving me insider info. I’m primed and ready to make a move.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Luke frowns, “You like her? Since when?”

He tries not to let the panic stirring in his chest reflect on his features, but it’s hard. 

Cole and Ellie had been hanging out for a long time, now. He can’t have been into you that whole time, right? Not without saying anything to anyone else - Cole is kind of mouthy, like that. Word would have got back around to Luke if Cole’s liked you for months. 

“Since I met her. She’s a really cool girl, really funny.” Cole scoffs, hand reaching out for more trash. “And she’s, like, one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen, you know?”

Of course Luke knows. He’s seen the most beautiful sides to you - soaked head to toe from a garden hose, eyes crinkled from laughter, or the aftermath, curled up on a couch with just-dry hair and heart opening up to him for the very first time. In an orange baseball cap and a Mets jersey, twirling as you exit one of the fitting rooms you had found in the mall, a big cute grin on your face as you allow yourself to dorky with Luke, and only with Luke. Sat out on the fountain at the club, skin bathed in the glistening moonlight and your heart thumping in the palm of his tender hands. Laid beside him in the early hours of the morning, soft snores falling from between your lips and hair splayed out against his pillow.

But he can’t exactly say that to Cole - who has apparently been working to pursue you this entire time without Luke ever catching on.

“Ellie says I’m her type, so I don’t know why I’m stressing about asking her out-,”

“Out like on a date? Like you want to date her?”

Luke knows he sounds like an idiot without Cole giving him the weirded-out look he gives, but he’s starting to lose out to the dread that is flooding the pit of his stomach. He stumbles to follow Cole out of the kitchen and into the living room, where they had set up a step ladder before to hang the decorations.

“You really think I’d be trying so hard if I didn’t?” Cole scoffs, “Catch up, Luke, I’m trying to end my summer with a girlfriend-,”

“She’s hardly girlfriend material.”

The words taste sour in the mouth that moves before his brain has time to think - sour enough that he has to try not to grimace, wishing he could suck them back in and swallow them back down like they never came out. 

“What do you mean?” Cole asks, his features dropping into a frown. “I thought you two were getting along.”

“We are,” he agrees, despite it seeming like an understatement, but words are starting to pour out before he can filter them, and he can already feel himself getting carried away. “And she’s a nice enough person, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t think it would work out with her like that.”

“You think she’d be hard work?”

He knows you are. But he likes you that way. He doesn’t want anyone else to worm their way into your good graces like he has. 

“Yeah,” he huffs, “She’s always out, and always flirting with guys at the club, you’ve seen it.” He knows he’s pulled that out of his ass, but what else is he supposed to say?

“I think she’s just fishing for tips, Lukey,” Cole chuckles, and Luke’s cheeks flush with humiliation at the pet name. He feels small, like he’s just something that Caufield can steam roll straight over without much protest. “Can’t blame her, some of those guys have deep pockets.”

“I’ve just heard stuff, you know.”

“Like what?”

Jesus Christ, Cole, he thinks, wishing he’d just take his word for it and get over you, already. As if it would ever be that easy. He doesn’t particularly enjoy saying these things out loud - using the words you had so carefully confided in him against you - but there’s a panicked desperation creeping up within him, becoming possible to ignore, and it’s cancelling out all other rational thoughts in his brain. 

The second you find out Cole Caufield is interested, you’ll no longer have any need for Luke.

Luke, who your every conversation with starts or ends with some sort of bickering argument, who annoys you to no end, who riles you up like it’s what he was put on this very Earth to do.

Cole is charming, he’s always had an ease when it comes to talking to girls that Luke never quite found in himself, and he’ll win you over in no time - and that’s if you aren’t interested, already.

But Luke is building up to that.

He’s been building up to it all summer.

Even before then, without entirely knowing it. 

The two of you have something, even if you refuse to admit it. You wouldn’t have kissed him all those times, otherwise, wouldn’t have come to his bed in the middle of the storm those weeks ago, and almost every night since he came back from Vegas, wouldn’t have slept with him before he left, wouldn’t have begged him to give in to you - not if you weren’t interested in him.

You’ve shared parts of yourself he knows no one’s ever seen, and he can’t let that be for nothing. 

But now the rug is being pulled out from under him, and all he can do to cling on to the edges with an idiotic possessiveness that curls his upper lip and brings his heart to a screeching stop. 

“Like how she’s with a different guy every week at Michigan. Apparently she gets around.”

“Oh,” Cole frowns, and Luke watches as his face turns, his own fists clenching at the urge to take it all back, to defend her and call Cole out on his immediate shift despite it being his own fault. 

He’s made his bed, now. He has to lie in it.

“Ellie didn’t mention all that stuff.”

“She’s hardly gonna call her friend easy.” Luke scoffs, and he thinks the way the words are spat out of his mouth is some sort of reflection of the way his lips don’t want to say them. Like they’re disgusted that his brain would even conceptualise them enough to be spoken. “Especially when you were doing her a favour with the whole Jack thing.”

“I don’t know man, I think you’ve got the wrong idea of her.”

Luke rolls his eyes as Cole makes his way back toward the step ladder, banner in hand, jaw tensing as he scrambles to think of something to stop this.

“She’s not the kind of girl you date,” he manages to call out, despite the tremor in his voice, every fibre of his being fighting the words from being spoken. “And there’s like a month left before we all leave for camp, so if you were to start anything, it would just be for the summer, anyway.”

“Jack and Ellie have started something with just a month left.”

“That’s not the same thing, they’ve been into each other for years, they text and call all the time, nothing’s really changing for them except for a label, you really think you’re gonna keep that up after just a couple months of knowing her?”

He reaches out for the other end of the banner and holds it as Cole positions his side, lip tugged between his teeth and a frown on his face as he mulls Luke’s words over. 

“You’ll be in Montreal, and she’ll be here, and you’ll be focusing on hockey, and training, and you won’t have time to keep up something serious with a girl you barely know.”

He tries not to think about how it’s the same distance to Jersey - an almost 2 hour flight - and how he’d be doing the exact same thing, swept up into the season before he knows it and potentially doing nothing but letting you down. 

“And you know what she’s like, she’d find something to argue about with a monk, for God’s sake,” he scoffs, brows furrowed so hard he can feel the tension in his forehead, “All you’d get from her is an earache. She’s not worth it.”

Cole turns to narrow his eyes at Luke, but something else over the top of his head catches his attention, instead, and the surprised muttering of your name turns Luke’s blood to ice.

Frozen in place, eyes wide, heart thudding in his ears, he waits with bated breath for something to happen - for Cole to break into a shit-eating grin, and tell him he’s just fucking around. For the ground to swallow him up. For anyone - literally anybody else - to respond.

But your voice carries straight over to him. Travels through his ears, ricochets around the cavern of his skull, shoots down his spine and makes his legs go numb.

“We uhm,” your tone is shaky, and Luke, for the first time, maybe, ever, hates the way you sound. “We were just checking if you needed a hand with the decorations.”

He turns slowly, and it’s Ellie’s eyes he meets first. Pointed, narrowed, betrayed, even, she glares at him like he’s just kicked a wounded animal right in front of her. 

“You can’t decorate your own party,” Cole laughs from behind Luke, as Luke’s attention drifts slowly your way. 

His eyes meet yours, and he can see the watery glaze over them from across the room. Can see your throat working to gulp down your hurt as your lips twist.

Ellie says something in response, and he vaguely hears Cole speak too, but all that he can focus on is the blood rushing around his head, a whooshing and whirring that makes him feel like his ears are about to pop, or his brain is about to explode. His lips part to speak, to say something, anything, to explain what you had clearly overheard, but your gaze drops to the floor, and he sees your walls build back up right before his eyes, brick by brick, cementing themselves back in place.

He’s such an idiot.

He’s such a monumental asshole.

The last time he had seen tears in your eyes had been sat by the fountain at the club - he had wiped them away, and had promised you he had your back, and you had just caught him having anything but with Cole. And all that after you had told him why you had ever been hesitant to let anyone in the first place.

He doesn’t think he’s ever messed up like this.

He steps forward, unsteady on his feet, and you step back, still not able to look him in the eye again, before turning on your heel and making your way upstairs.

Luke hears the stomp of your feet as you go, watches Ellie go after you, wishing it could be him, and stands, motionless, until he feels a firm pat on his back.

“Don’t worry, man,” Cole says, “She’s cool, she’ll be over it after a couple of drinks.”

Luke doesn’t even think he says anything coherent when he responds, a grunt or a grumble - it can’t have been words, because he can’t even form them in his brain. 

“I’m gonna ask her out tonight, anyway,” Cole chuckles, “So what you said won’t even mean anything.”

Great.

He’s just fucked things up with one of the greatest people in his life, the girl of his dreams, and it doesn’t even mean anything.

Not the kind of girl you date. 

Not worth it.

All that from the boy who supposedly had your back not that long ago. The first guy in a long time, maybe even ever, to make you feel secure, and safe, and like you could trust someone again.

Luke thinks you’re an earache. 

He thinks you’re argumentative, and only worthy of a brief, summer fling - that keeping up anything with you when he goes home would be a waste of the time and energy he should be dedicating to hockey.

And he’s probably right, you think.

It’s only what you’ve been telling yourself in the back of your mind all summer. Self-deprecating thoughts about how he’s far too good for you, and you’re only interesting when he can’t have you, and he’ll get tired of you before you can even realise he’s already drifted off.

Ellie had told you all the way back in your freshman year that the two of you weren’t a good fit. Jack had been telling Luke the same all summer. And you had only just managed to convince yourself otherwise on the drive back to the lake house from the mall.

You can hardly blame him for being two steps ahead.

You think that’s why you can’t bring yourself to cry - the sting of tears prickling persistently but never pushing through, eyes watering so much you can’t even put on mascara without the fear of it trickling down your face and ruining the rest of your makeup.

You’d tried crying, before. Had ran up to your room and had sat on the other side of your bed, hidden from the door and knees pressed to your chest. Your breath had stuttered, and your lips had trembled, but the tears wouldn’t fall, try as you might to have made them.

And when Ellie had found you, had sat beside you with an arm stretched over your shoulders, you had tried, then, too.

And it would be your luck that as soon as you press the inky substance into your lashes that they would finally fall, so you’ve been sat trying to wish them away for the past ten minutes - the tube clutched in a death grip in your hands as you sit at the makeshift vanity you and Ellie had set up all those weeks ago when you had moved in, taking deep breaths and willing the hurt to go away.

It’s where Luke finds you after knocking with no response - you barely remember hearing it - shuffling wordlessly into the room and perching himself down behind you on the edge of the bed.

You see him in the mirror, your eyes darting away before his can meet them in the reflection, and you stiffen your shoulders, bracing yourself for the blow.

“I didn’t mean any of what you heard.”

You breathe out a humourless chuckle, bitterness settling into the pit of your stomach and your lips trembling with resistance. 

“I mean it, I don’t think those things about you, I promise, I-,”

“It doesn’t even matter,” you cut him off with a roll your eyes, pushing the mascara tube toward the mirror and figuring you’re just gonna go without. 

“I was panicking, and it just came out like word vomit, and I feel really sick about it, and really stupid, and I wish I could take it all back-,”

“I said it doesn’t matter.” You meet his eyes this time, trying not to fall for just how distraught he looks behind you in the mirror. 

“Of course it matters,” he frowns, and you look away as soon as he pushes himself up, knowing he’s coming for you. “I need you to know that I would never have said those things-,”

“You said them, Luke,” you scoff, “What do you mean you would never have said them, you literally did.”

“I know-,”

“It doesn’t matter-,”

“Can you stop saying that!” He frowns, appearing at the side of you, hands gripping your shoulders to get you to face him. “I’m trying to explain this to you, I’m trying to fix things, and you’re-,”

“What, giving you an earache?”

All those weeks ago, the backs of your legs sticking to the bench in the booth in the restaurant, leaning over the table and sparring back and forth with him, you had convinced yourself that he liked it.

That the glint in his eye was indication of as much, the twitch at the corner of his lips, the way he would bite back without a second to think about it, and had matched your every effort to get one over on him. 

You had thought the two of you had something real. Something you had never found with anyone else. Quick wit, and similar senses of humour, shared boundaries, a mutual level of respect. 

You had thought his persistence had been something that would stick.

And clearly, you thought wrong.

He whispers out an utterance of your name that hurts like fingers wrapped around your throat - clenching and squeezing until you go hot in the head.

“I keep saying it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t, Luke. You were right, we wouldn’t have been able to keep this up past the summer, anyway.”

Luke’s brows furrow your way, eyes darting between yours as his lips part to speak, but nothing comes out.

“You’re going back to Jersey soon, I’m going back to school, it was fun while it lasted but things have run their course.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“We both do.” You shrug, wearing your feigned indifference like armour, just like you know so well to do. “You don’t say the things you said on a whim, Luke, some part of you has to believe that they’re true.”

“I don’t-,”

“I’m giving you a chance to cut things off with no hard feelings-,”

“No hard feelings?” His disbelief cuts through you a little, the hurt in his eyes and the scrunch of his features, too, but if you give in, now, you’re setting yourself up for a world of hurt. 

You had barely just built up the courage to give your heart to him, in whatever shape he had scrunched and squeezed it into before, and he had already managed to bruise it. Giving in will only result in it breaking. 

“I have feelings. I have feelings for you. And I know you have feelings for me, too, you can’t pretend you don’t-,”

“It doesn’t-,”

“It matters.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like this - so sure, so serious, so raw - and when he takes a hold of your face, hands cupping your jaw, tender but firm, and forces you to look at him, you see the same in his features. “Cole is into you. And he said he was gonna ask you out, and I panicked trying to convince him not to. I should have had faith that you would have turned him down. And I should have been honest, and I should have told him that I’m into you. More than into you, I think I-,”

“I wouldn’t have turned him down.”

You lie with such ease that it makes your heart ache more than the truth, but it’s the only thing you can do to protect it.

If you let Luke carry on, you’ll let him back in.

You can’t let him back in.

Not with the tears that now well his eyes, or the way his face drops like you’ve just struck him in the gut - pained and powerless.

“What?”

Your hands shake in your lap so much you have to clench them shut, knuckles turning white as Luke’s touch slips from your skin. 

“If he asked me out, I would have said yes.”

Luke runs a hand through his hair, blinking repeatedly before he tears his gaze away from yours, and you feel like you can see his walls building - a sight that should flood you with relief, but doesn’t.

“So, what, everything we’ve been through together, all the things we’ve done, all the things we’ve said, you’re just gonna throw it all away like none of it matters?”

You can hear the hurt - can feel it even, clawing at your skin as if it’s trying to find a way to dig past the barriers you’ve put in place. 

But you have to do this.

“I guess not.”

Luke was always going to hurt you. Was going to burrow himself through whatever cracks you left bare to him, weasel his way into your heart and tear it from the inside out. And maybe you were always going to do the same to him.

“Alright then,” he mutters, robotic and distant, with his eyes stuck on the floor. 

He stands from where he had been crouched beside you, backing away before turning completely, and he walks away in long strides, the door to your bedroom closing with a soft click behind him. 

The tear that falls when he’s gone does so slowly. You feel it trail all the way down your cheek from the corner of your eye, until it drops, almost audibly, from your jaw and onto your lap. 

And then the rest follow, uncontrollable and unrelenting.

Inevitable, just like he had said.

A/N: so...... please don't hate me I wrote the ending first lmao!! I imagine this will cause riots in the streets tbh but please let me know what you think hahahah this whole story has become my baby!! she's problematic but she's mine!!!!

[clearwingedmaven]

So we tied. And for the starting blog:

Favorite underrated Sherlock Holmes stories, and why you should read them!

1) The Five Orange Pips: Look. I am a sucker for examinations of consciousness, and this was like the first time we've seen Sherlock Holmes feel and seem human. Be vulnerable. Be angry, despairing, haunted, even. He's lost a client, and as far as we know, that's the first time that's ever happened to him. It's the first time he's failed at this magnitude.

And his rant to Watson before he goes to chase down Openshaw's killers is definitely a worthwhile read.

2) The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb: After doing the research for the fic, and finding the terrifying Paget drawing for this one, yeah, this one's good. It's a little bizarre, given the ending, but the implications of Colonel Stark still being out there, and maybe doing this to other people is chilling. If you like... well, horror, definitely worth a read.

3) The Adventure of the Naval Treaty: I don't see this one talked about a lot! I find the cottagecore aspects appealing, and the interwoven political intrigue and little bits of back story for Watson are fun, too. An absolute bonus is the ending: I would also be jumping up and down if I got my important document given to me for breakfast, and the monologue with the rose... also a plus!

4) The Adventure of the Lion's Mane: I do like cottagecore Holmes, I guess! I love this little story, especially that Holmes, despite being retired, still immediately rushes in to help solve this mystery. I feel like it's a great demonstration of Holmes's humanity and kindness, rather than just his logic and rationality.

5) The Problem of Thor Bridge: I can't say that this... elaborate plan made sense, but it was deeply intriguing. I love how again, it's a great showcase of Holmes’s humanity and kindness, and the woven cold blooded rivalry, and plotting made for an intriguing short story in the long run. Extreme bonus points for the Granada adaptation: Jeremy Brett strutting across the bridge was an incredible image.

And finally:

6) The Adventure of the Missing Three-Quarter: I really don't see people talking about this one, either! There were bits of mystery that were deeply intriguing, such as the papers that were left about, and it's a very bittersweet tale, but also as a deeply human tragedy. There's no real villain here(apart from Lord Mount-James), but there is death and despair with the death of Godfrey's young wife. If you like an angsty read, this is worth it.

And that's my two cents.

[1dcommunityficrecs]

Rec List: New Authors!

Welcome to 2025! And as we say goodbye to 2024, this list is taking a moment to shout out new authors who ventured into 1D fic this year -- welcome aboard. It's truly amazing to me that 15 years since the band was formed, and 9 years since they as a group put out new music or performed together, new people are still joining the fold -- or dipping their toes into writing and posting fic, after hanging out in other spaces for a time. I'm sure plenty of people are joining via the solo music, but it still warms my heart to see this community that has meant so much to me continuing to grow and flourish. New fans are just as valid as old fans, and are absolutely essential for a healthy fandom ecosystem.

So with that said, here are 9 fics from people who started posting for the 1D fandom in 2024. And some of these writers have been incredibly prolific -- two of the fics listed are over 100k, and one of the authors has sixteen 1D fics already! Here's hoping we see more from them in 2025 and beyond -- please join me in giving them a warm welcome to the community!

Notorious by violetlilachyacinth (64021, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: period-typical homophobia, implied/referenced rape/non-con

1946. WWII has just ended, but there's still work to be done. To help bring Nazis to justice, U.S. government agent Harry Styles receives a new assignment: recruit Louis Tomlinson, the American son of a convicted German war criminal, as a spy. Neither knows the full extent of the task they're asked to complete nor the full impact they will have upon each other. The stakes are quite high.

Reccer says: This fic blew me away! It's an adaptation of a film, and I can imagine how much work the author did to make it their own. Harry and Louis' connection leapt off the page. And no spoilers, but I loved the ending.

freaky friday by tracksuitponytail (1700, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post Warnings: dubious consent due to body swap

It’s Friday the 13th—a day like any other for Louis until he wakes up in the middle of the night... in his best friend's body.

Reccer says: SO well written! I enjoyed it so much, and it really cheered me up on Thanksgiving

Coffee and Confessions by Vyshv (676, General, Zayn Malik/Harry Styles)

A cozy coffee shop in New York City, with the warm aroma of roasted beans and the soft hum of chatter, two lost friends find each other.

Reccer says: This fic so so soft and lovely! I love the feelings it evoked

Hazelnut by BlackRose_Lilly28 (100, Not Rated, None)

Another drabble based on a twitter prompt. This time: "Hazelnut."

Reccer says: Fun to read, and very sweet!

here for the thrill by worldsofdreamers (3357, Explicit, Niall Horan/Zayn Malik)

niall wore a cowboy hat and he was just saving a horse

Reccer says: we needed a fic of niall in his lil cowboy hat and this fic DELIVERS. always love fics from this author. they’re very good writer and they are a good go to if you’re in need of a ziall fic.

All in the Golden Afternoon by leighllbealright (126028, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

When Louis Tomlinson needed to find a new preschool for his daughter, he wasn't expecting the one across the street to be everything he and Goldie ever needed. Or: the one where Louis is closed off, Harry is the weirdest person ever, and Gemma may as well be a psychic. Somehow, calico-cat-style, they forge a beautiful family from pieces that don't quite fit.

Reccer says: This series is one of my top 10 from 2024. Brilliant characters, gorgeous writing, Harry’s sweaty elbow-pits, everyone is a flower, naked treehouses and more.

Whole Lot of History by Blue_Green28 (73592, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

With 3 children coming out of their twelve years long marriage Harry and Louis are essential parts of each other's lives even though they have moved on with new partners since their divorce ten years ago. Or have they?

Reccer says: Exes to Lovers, Miscommunication, mpreg

everything of mine is yours by blueskiesrry (33000, Explicit, Harry Styles/ Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

With Harry in New York finishing up his PhD and Louis in London working as a solicitor, they try to navigate their eight year situationship including almost-daily phone calls, the occasional indulgence of casual phone sex, and endless gossip sessions as the feelings they have for each other get harder to ignore.

Reccer says: The scene where Louis reads a Lincoln biography out loud to H in the bath? Swoonworthy!

The Handbasket Diaries by Hazel_tea_dreams (160326, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

London’s expensive and work’s a grind but everything is a little better when you have good mates who understand you. The narrow brick flat building in Brixton, home to Louis, Liam, and Zayn and affectionately referred to as The Handbasket, is more than a place to catch winks and reheat leftovers. When Harry stumbles into its midst (and Louis' lap) with flatmate Niall in tow on a particularly hot Pride weekend, none of the five of them will be fully prepared for the shenanigans, tomfoolery, true friendship, or steamy romance that will unfold over the year.

Reccer says: This was so fucking lovely. I binged it in two days—only put it down to scream about it on Bluesky (and sleep and like, essential stuff). The writing is witty and tender and, apparently, communication kink is my jam. This is the only fic (in recent memory) that I finished and then wanted to restart immediately.

[sugaryplum]

LENKA'S ULTIMATE FICS HALL OF FAME ༉‧₊˚.

i’ve been reading fics on tumblr for a whileeeee. many years. i went through many phases, celebrity crushes, fictional crushes and obviously, fics related to them. only some stuck with me through all this time and well, here there are!!

what’s important, i’ve done this type of post before only with theodore nott in mind. i was asked by anon to recommend some more so here you can find him, as well as many different characters across many films, books, tv shows, genres. i lowkey recommend reading most of them honestly, even if you don’t know the characters. some are just in alternate universes so the name or context of the character doesn’t really matter :)

i’m picky and particular with fics so i promise these are best of the best 🤍 well written, in character, super cute all that. and like 80 percent is fluff

SO have a lovely time reading!! let’s start

(if i tagged a character and there's no section for them, they're for sure down at the bottom in "misc" – with poe dameron, regulus black, scorpius malfoy, jake peralta and some more <3)

spencer reid

i love baby steps by @sinfulspencer !!!!! i love domestic spencer

also can't let go by the same author i remember being lovely

fluffy cute ass blurb by @tinyluvs

asleep spence by @in-another-april <3

i looooveee @radiant-reid ! for example this little fic

and this omg

oh and these season 7/8 headcanons!!

theodore nott

i might accidentally repeat myself from my theo recs post, sorry:( most of them should be new recs though

speaking of repeating myself, first i'd like to repeat myself on purpose. if @artytaeh has no fans i am dead, i swear to goddd. i stand by what i said last time. best characterisation of theo, everything seems like it's made with so much care, no misses in the masterlist. read it alllllll

i mentioned veryberryjelly in my last theo recs too. here are some more of my favourites :) this and also this i ordered hehe. also i don't remember if last time i linked blair witch or tangled in lights so here you get them both

little dragon by @retrobutterflies super so very sweet

i remember the cat chronicles by @obsessedwithcelesteare being very cute 🌟 i love theo + cats combo always 

like a moth to a flame by @julesinsummer angsty!!!!! but so good

honestly i'm pretty sure i talked about it in theo recs already but in case i haven't you need to read this by @agirlsguidetolove

i remember loving fools by @luv4freddie !!! cute

this by @darkmagic-s was super silly and fun i love silly and fun things yayay

i for sure i talked about @cassiopeiasdaughter but did i talk about mirrorball specifically? i requested this and i loooveee it

this unhinged smut by @theostrophywife i love i stan

also silly little smut hcs by @sucka4thepuss hehe, most of them i agree i love em

😣😣😣<3😣

alright done with this smut section just this too let me link

cute and silly reminders of marriage thing by

@wordsarelife made this cute thing that lol im like 70% sure i may have requested???? and the ask looks like something i would ask for hehe

@suugarbabe makes really good stuff :)

cedric diggory

golden by @sapphicwhxre (love the username btw) might be my favourite cedric fic? first date cedric loooooveee

plain sight by @softboyluvr too oh my god! love this as a scenario

rainy summers as well as just you by @mirclealignr i think im just all for pure cedric diggory fluff (well written too!)

godsend by @pariahsparadise with sick reader super very sweet

@mistress-riddle made this lovely thing (and she's also btw soooooooo unbelievebly great with tom riddle fics if thats your cup of tea, i love all of them)

ced yule ball hcs by @styleswithaseaview are so sweet and there are also lovely petnames ones by the same author <3

cuuuute girldad!ced called pigtails by @mayabooowrites

post hogwarts cedric just so so so sweet by @iliveiloveiwrite, here's lighthearted domesticity

misc (all the other characters)

there's a bunch of my phases passed a long long time ago but some fics are just waaay too good to not keep rereading and recommending them. i think they're all pretty universal and can be imagined with anyone as the main love interest so please read them even if you don't know the character. and DON'T judge me ;(((( for the characters !!! i'm exposing myself enough. these were found by young me from a long while ago

this by @wizkiddx is the sweetest ever tom holland blurb about how he's a clumsy mess trying to measure reader's ring size while she's asleep

i think destined by @thirst-refinery is the cutest soulmate au made, even though i don't think the story was ever finished? but i love it still and honestly i am very not ashamed to be in love with poe dameron

black leader shutting up by @starryeyedstories also greattttt poe dameron fic

clingy fluffy sugary sweet scorpius malfoy in dinner by @blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms <3

🤎🤎 regulus black bunch :) here and here as well as here and here

....or maybe i just love timothee chalamet? like here and also here and definitely here

out of my hamilton phase a few years ago came out my love for this fic which might be one of my favourites ever, i legit have this text copied to my notes just in case it ever gets deleted

my alex turner moment was brief but so fun

OH AND this long jake peralta fic by @ongaku-ato-kakikomi is oh my god SOOO much fun please read it

also another poe dameron fic, this one is so good, by @absolutelyfizzing, kind of angsty also!!!!

DALI ON TUESDAY charlie dalton fic by @rostovs-loveralso one of my favourite things on this whole app. love love love love

YAY THATS ALL. this took so long. you've got my whole collection now. all of the all time favourites and more. love love you, hope you love reading them as much as i did<3🌜🌟👼 night night

[fruitybashir]

“I bet it looks amazing in the snow,” Bojan offers.

And Kris looks like the exact opposite of willing to go out into the cold at this late hour. But he's Kris. And it's Bojan asking him. So he shrugs and says,

“Sure.”

merry late christmas! this is my secret santa gift to the wonderful @occhi-verdi-come-il-mare as part of the @joblrsecretsanta event this holiday season! <3

you can read it here!

rambling (mild spoilers) and alt title under the cut

i was so excited when i was told i got you as a match, i just knew id find something fun to create for you! :D

so the prompt was "I super duper love snow and Christmas and winter in general, so something really going for the holiday vibes would be lovely" and i actually had three very different plots semi planned out until i was travelling back home from visiting my family and then suddenly just got a whole different idea and wrote this one in 20hrs of flight and bus travels hahaha

i thought about bokris celebrating christmas together and how bojans family probably celebrates in january so it would be really cute if it became tradition that he celebrated with the gušti household in december

and then i thought about how i visited lake bled in october and how pretty it was in fall and how pretty it must be in all the snow now and how romantic <3 so the spot mentioned is also very much real and this is their view (just with snow):

and i love the idea of them falling for each other without even noticing it, being in love without even realising because the feeling has been there for so long and so naturally that there is no way of even telling when it began and how long its been that way 🫶🏻

anywayssss hope you like it <33 and since i only realised yesterday that id had the fic finished for a week but hadnt even given it a title yet, here is the alternative one:

[vechter]

2024 WRITING REVIEW

tagged by @malinaa my beloved <3 tagging: @acediscowlng @androxys @burins @danishsweethearts @daringyounggrayson @mintchocochipsposts and anyone else who hasn't been tagged yet!!!

number of stories posted to ao3: i kinda went crazy in the second half of the year... 4 fics although 3 are one-shots

word counted posted for last year: 46,426 of which LBIA is a whopping 40,444 oops

fandoms i wrote for: dc comics

pairings: dickroy... my brand and my heart <3

stories with the most kudos, bookmarks and comment threads: look back in anger sweep with 432 kudos, 277 bookmarks and 71 comment threads

work i’m most proud of (and why): gotta be look back in anger just bc it was a huge undertaking... for the 2 months before i posted the first chapter, i was furiously consumed by thoughts of it every free moment... so to finally get it out was just a catharsis... relief and a moment of pride

work i’m least proud of (and why): angie, they can't say we never tried because it was just a way for me to avoid writing the final chapter of LBIA lmao and i think it kinda shows in the writing... like it feels like a very surface level read? it's sweet but it's just a bit lacklustre

share or describe a favorite review you received: anything mintchocochips comments bc she's so good at pinpointing the metaphors and the moments that are integral to the scene... like it rlly feels like she really considers each line with love and that's so, so wonderful to hear <3 also this one just hit me rlly hard too:

(special shoutout to lys's long-winded threats on shaking it off to find a higher low... consider me endeared and scared bb)

a time when writing was really, really hard: can i say this whole year... like fr the first half of this year was a LOT so i had ideas but they never came to fruition. also november. fuck that month.

a scene or character you wrote that surprised you: listen... i write what i love so anytime you guys see dickroy in my fics, it should not be a surprise. but the dick & garth scene in chapter 1 of LBIA was very fun for me bc we don't often see garth get the same love as the other members of the fab five (i'm guilty of it myself sadly)... and i just thought it was such a missed opportunity for them to connect and mull over their respective deaths + subsequent resurrections. so, to write that was really interesting bc i wanted the tether of the titans to be a different thing for them post-death.

a favourite excerpt of your writing:

i've posted a part of this before but i looove this section from it builds and builds and builds:

It’s exhausting trying to keep track of Dick’s faith in him. The glow of moments Dick will trust him implicitly, the gut-punch when Nightwing is implacable, even to him. He doesn’t know how Dick does it— how he lives like that, the uncontrolled chaos of his mind that can either be a deadly laser or an explosive bomb on a dime. There’s no pattern to it at all; Roy thought he knew all there was to know about fickleness after Ollie but Dick’s always proving him wrong. (The first lesson Oliver Queen taught him: when you pull back the bowstring, you learn how to let go.)

how did you grow as a writer last year: bro i regressed... i used to be capable of writing happy endings... i don't think i remember how to do that anymore. but tbh, i did get a lot into the visual considerations and rhetoric of prose + how it contributes to overall mood while reading. it's why LBIA is so fragmented and so densely littered with indents/parentheses.

how do you hope to grow this year: i need to write less vignette based stuff and focus more on building a flow of events in the same chunk of text... i would like to be capable of moving from point A to point B on screen itself.

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc.): @dandeeliion elle you were the first person to really hear about LBIA and you're one of the main reasons i got the courage to put the fic out so you have my unending love and appreciation. also, @ekleiipsis for listening to all my rants... i love you mar <3 also big shoutout to the gc for just generally gassing me up and loving my writing it means the world 🥺

anything from your real life show up in your writing last year: hahahah... what if you had been performing your whole life and you didn't know who you were when that performance was taken away... what then

any new wisdom you can share with other writers: a first draft is a first draft no matter how shitty you may think it is

any projects you’re looking to starting (or finishing) this year: pre-flashpoint long fic with a focus on dick, donna and roy + their respective traumas during dickbats era/blackest night/rise of arsenal. also really want to write a dick and cass case fic where their individual strengths and weaknesses are highlighted... only for the power of teamwork to save them ultimately <3

[f1ora1f1owerswrites]

then and now

Summary: Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw’s rivalry turned into a friendship over the years. You, Jake’s high school sweetheart, watched their bond grow from complaints about Bradley’s mustache to mutual respect, showing you how much Jake had changed.

warnings: established relationship, she/her used, no use of y/n, character growth (???), FLUFF!

a/n: happy new year!! my first fic of 2025...wow! i have had so much fun with this blog and thank you for all the love!! :) i hope you enjoy this cute little read!! <3

w/c: 960.

***

Jake Seresin’s career had taken him to some amazing places, but coming home to you was still his favorite.

He stood in the doorway of your shared home, his bag dropped on the floor with a thud, his khaki uniform slightly wrinkled from the long trip. The moment he saw you coming down the hall with that familiar smile, everything else faded.

“Missed me, sweetheart?” he drawled, the corners of his mouth lifting into a grin.

“Always,” you said, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. Jake chuckled, gently rubbing the small of your back.

As you stepped back, brushing his hair out of his face, you caught the tired look in his eyes. “Rough trip?”

Jake groaned, tossing his keys onto the entryway table. “Rough doesn’t even begin to cover it. Do you know who I got stuck with the entire time? Bradley 'stupid mustache' Bradshaw.”

Your brow furrowed and a grin lifted onto your lips at the newfound nickname. “Bradley? Goose’s son?”

“The very same,” Jake replied, running a hand through his hair. “He’s so smug. He acts like he’s God’s gift to naval aviation. Walks around with that stupid mustache like he’s in an ‘80s movie.”

You laughed, patting his chest. “You mean like you walk around acting like God’s gift to, well, everything?”

Jake’s jaw dropped in mock offense. “Hey, that’s different. I actually am God’s gift to everything.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head, but your smile gave you away. “What’s he done that’s got you so worked up?”

“Besides thinking he’s better than me at literally everything?” Jake started pacing, his hands gesturing wildly as he ranted. “He called me Hangman like it’s a bad thing, said I don’t have anyone’s back. Can you believe that? I’m a team player!”

You stifled another laugh, biting your lip. You’d known Jake since high school, long enough to know that his bravado was often just a cover for how much he really cared—about his work, his teammates, and, even when he wouldn’t admit it, his newfound rivalry with Bradley Bradshaw.

“You’re a lot of things, Jake,” you teased, “but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to actually try getting along with him?”

Jake scoffed, waving you off. “Not gonna happen.”

***

But over time, you watched that stance soften.

Years passed, and Jake’s stories about Bradley became less irritated and more… amused. By the time they were assigned to the same mission (and not just the occasional practice) in San Diego, the exasperation in his voice had been replaced with something suspiciously close to respect.

You caught on early, especially when Jake started calling Bradley by his callsign, Rooster. The first time he casually mentioned, “Rooster actually had my back in the air today,” you nearly dropped your mug.

“Wait, wait,” you interrupted, setting your coffee down. “You’re telling me Bradley ‘stupid mustache’ Bradshaw had your back? And you’re not complaining?”

Jake shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying to suppress a smile. “I’m just saying, the guy’s not entirely useless.”

“Wow,” you teased, leaning against the counter. “High praise coming from you.”

Jake rolled his eyes, but you could see the shift. By the time he was recounting the mission where he and Bradley worked seamlessly together to save their team, you knew something had changed.

“You know,” you said one evening, as Jake lay on the couch with his head in your lap, “I think you like him now.”

Jake groaned, covering his face with a pillow. “Don’t start, sweetheart.”

“I’m serious!” you insisted, laughing as you tugged the pillow away. “You two are practically inseparable now. Admit it—you’re friends.”

Jake peeked up at you, his green eyes soft. “I didn’t say we’re not friends. But don’t go telling him that, alright? I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

You laughed, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

***

The first time you saw Jake and Bradley joking together in person, you almost didn’t recognize them. It was during a barbeque on the beach in San Diego, the whole squad and their partners gathered around the fire pit.

Jake was standing beside Bradley, both of them laughing as they recounted some ridiculous story about their mission. The easy camaraderie between them was a far cry from the complaints you used to hear.

“Unreal, isn’t it?” Phoenix said, nudging you with her shoulder as she handed you a drink.

“What is?” you asked, though you already knew.

“Those two. They were at each other’s throats when this started. Now? Thick as thieves.”

You smiled, watching Jake throw his arm around Bradley’s shoulders, tugging him closer in a playful headlock. “It’s definitely been a journey.”

When Jake caught you watching, he grinned and motioned for you to join them. “C’mere, honey. Rooster’s trying to convince me he’s the reason we’re still alive.”

“Because I am!” Bradley called, holding up his beer.

You walked over, shaking your head fondly. “I can’t believe this. Jake Seresin, willingly standing this close to Bradley Bradshaw? I think I need to sit down,” you say, dramatically feeling your forehead with the back of your hand.

Jake rolled his eyes, pulling you into his side. “Don’t let it go to your head, darlin’. I’m just humoring him.”

Bradley smirked. “Yeah, okay, Hangman. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

As they launched into another round of playful banter, you leaned into Jake’s side, your heart full. Watching their friendship grow had been funny, sure, but it also reminded you of just how much Jake had grown over the years. From the cocky high school boy you fell in love with to the man standing beside you now, he’d built something meaningful—not just with you, but with the people who mattered most.

And if he occasionally complained about Bradley just to keep up appearances, well, that was fine by you.

[jrow]

2024: Year in Review

Thanks for the tag @calaisreno! Your review got me thinking a lot about my writing this year.

As my kids are getting older, I am having trouble finding free time for myself. Because of that, 2024 had much less writing than years prior. Reading fic too, for that matter, but I hope to start getting through my massive MFL list soon!

In total, I posted just over 41,000 words over 3 stories. But, the time limitations also forced me to write things differently and take on new challenges. When May came along, I was itching to write something, so decided to try to base a story around short bits built around @calaisreno's May prompts. It definitely scratched the itch and I managed to post something every day! The resulting story was Open Your Eyes (T, Words = 17,073 over 31 chapters). Although the story could absolutely use a good edit, I think it hangs together pretty well given how it was written. I absolutely loved writing Rosie in this one, although I admit my fave chapters are the Mycroft POVs.

I participated in FTH 2024 knowing that it would help "force" me to write. And, luckily, my top bidder (72reasons) gave me a prompt that forced me out of my comfort zone again. For the first time ever, I posted an alternative first meeting, although I didn't quite manage to take it entirely out of canon. That story is Meet Ugly (T, Words = 9,766 over 5 chapters) and I had a lot of fun writing it. I am most pleased by comments that people find parts funny, because I admit I worked at that!

And then it was back to my bread and butter for my second FTH fic. To be honest, the timing was perfect. After writing a couple of stories that deviated from my usual style, I was pretty eager to write a more traditional case fic. But, I knew time wasn't on my side and forced myself to try to keep the fic shorter than usual. My goal was 10k and it ended up at 14,522, which isn't so far off ;). That fic is The Red-Headed League (T, 5 chapters), my update on the ACD story. I tried to think of an alternative update to the title, but couldn't think of anything that had the same "feel". I really appreciate all the love this one is getting. I like it, but the shorter length did create some challenges. I like the case part and I like the Rosie/Fam b-plot, but I don't think they are well integrated as in my other case fics (ie., I don't think it would be that difficult to pull them apart into two stories). I think part of what makes ACD short stories so great is how much plot (and relationship dynamics) is in so few words. But, I suppose ACD never worried about getting our protagonists together and that is a 100% requirement for my stories!

I am not sure what I'll tackle next. I have a few partly finished AUs, but I seem to have trouble bringing those to fruition (the amount of research needed seems insurmountable at times). Who knows though!

This ended up being pretty long, especially considering I started this post by saying I didn't have much time to write ... my gratitude to anyone whose made it to the end 💖💖💖💖💖!

I'm a bit late with this so I won't tag, but invite any one else to share their thoughts on their writing this year. I love to read them!

2024: Year in Review

This year I posted 14 stories, fewer than any other year, but my word count still hovers around 300k, as it has for several years.

This was my first year writing for Fandom Trumps Hate. My story, written for the very generous and lovely @LHRinchelsea, was The Disappointed Optimist's Guide to Sharing a Flat with a Madman. It was so rewarding to participate that I plan to offer a story again this year.

My favorite story I've written this year is Déjà Vu, a closing chapter for the Off Axis series. I may write more for that series, but this one is a story that brought a lot of closure for our heroes and their friends.

My second favorite: This is Family, a fill-in story for The Final Problem (S4Ep3). I combined this into a series with People We Love, an aftermath story I wrote in 2023. "Solving" The Final Problem was a very satisfying endeavour.

I had great fun writing my first Harry-centric story in October, When Harry Met Mary.

I'm closing the year with a parallel story for When We Were Young. My Heart at Your Door will finish posting in January 2025.

This was my second year doing the May Prompts event. In 2023 there were only a few of us, but this past year, it took off in a big way. I think I was tagging over 30 people with the daily prompt! As always, it was a lot of fun. This year we had a number of people writing daily limericks, an activity that has continued for the rest of 2024, and I hope will still be going strong in 2025. Thank you @Friday411 for inspiring that!

My number one project for 2025 is The Secret of Agra, a fic that I've been writing since 2020. I've called it a White Whale, but it might be more of a Frankenstein. 😆 It is finally coming together, though, and I hope to post in 2025.

I don't have any other specific writing goals for 2025. I have quite a happy writing groove, and many WIP that I hope to complete.

I'd love to hear what you are planning for 2025, if you'd like to share! Tagging:

@keirgreeneyes @meetinginsamarra @totallysilvergirl @raina-at

@7-percent @lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @copperplatebeech

@discordantwords @chriscalledmesweetie @holmesianlove

@khorazir @jrow @thegildedbee @ghostofnuggetspast

And anyone I've forgotten!

[cloudyskies25]

My modern Four design inspired by the heist au by @cerame

[annzybwrites]

Oh my goodness!! I'm truly speechless from all of your kind words and the fact that you filled a whole page with little scenes from my little fic!!! Especially since it's not even finished yet!

I loved reading all of your thoughts of the scenes you decided to draw, and I'm glad you think all of the characters have good chemistry! I absolutely adore writing characters and character dialogue the most, so I'm glad that others take a liking to my style as well ^-^ And yes, Snorkmaiden is absolutely hilarious in this fic and I love her so much XD Someone has to be the voice of reason for our two, lovable idiots, even if no one seems to listen to her in the long run.

All of the scenes that you chose to adapt are SO GOOD!!! I love the way you draw Snettles peeking out of the water with only his eyes showing; he looks just as shy and pathetic as I pictured in my head XD My favorites are definitely the scenes where Snufkin finds himself influenced by mermaid music/spells/instincts. It's something that he's never quite going to get used to, I'm afraid, and you captured that feeling of confusion, panic, and compulsion very well! And I do like how you drew Moomin here, especially when he calls Snufkin "Snuffles" XD He looks so flirty!! So good!! And you even drew the lesbians having fun on the ship together <3 And Snorkmaiden calling Snufkin a twink is just good fun XD The work you did with the shading in every scene is really good, btw! I really enjoy where you place the emphasis.

I love your depiction of the Lady of the Seas! Giving her actual seaweed for hair is a fine choice I think, especially since she does look a bit more inhuman than the rest of her "children." I do like that she has different kinds of seaweed in her hair as well! And her face, smile, and claws are all so perfectly pointy to hint at her dangerous side. Absolutely marvelous!

Thank you so much for taking the time to enjoy my little fic and to draw all of this!! I'm glad it could help you through some of your art block, and I hope you continue to draw whatever your heart desires in the future <3

Okay… so I started reading @annzy-bananzys-corner ‘s “Snettles” as I was scrolling through Snufmin fanfics to read on AO3 back in early December, and… holy cow is it good!!!

Not only did the art cover from one of my favorite artists drew me in, but the writing was just 👌✨ GORGEOUS!!

All the characters written had such good chemistry towards each other, and Snorkmaiden ended up being the funniest to me. I couldn’t stop laughing so hard at her trying to be the voice of reason to the two lovable idiots that are Moomin and Snufkin in the early chapters.

So as typical fashion, I felt a great need to draw it. Cuz honestly, long-haired Snufkin was not something I thought was going to make me go feral but hot damn does he look so pretty in long hair!

Okay so…

SPOILERS TO THE FIC!!!

It’s pretty blurry but 1. I don’t have the best camera quality, and 2. It’s a bit faded since it took me a whole month to do this. (Update: I got a clearer picture. Sorry, I was rushing to get this out for a whole month)

But anyway, I had absolute gender envy every time I drew Snufkin with long hair. And there was definitely a lot more I wanted to draw, and felt bad I didn’t draw Little My especially.

I’m actually glad for the cover art too, it acted as a perfect reference to use but unfortunately I’m not very good at drawing Moomin and I’m envious at how @hanekdrawsmoomins draws them! They’re so fluffy and pretty!!

I definitely had to draw Snorkmaiden calling Snufkin a twink. I couldn’t resist. What I didn’t intend was for it to be right next to Snufkin having a breakdown over the overpowering song in his ears 😅 I also decided in order to differentiate Moomin and Snorkmaiden, I gave Snorkmaiden more rounder and fluffier features like her tail and ears. It’s subtle but I was pretty happy with it.

I get giddy every time I drew Moomin and Snufkin, but Snorkmaiden and Alicia needed some love too. I wanted to try some perspective which… I’ll admit I’m not very good at, but I did my best. I normally don’t draw backgrounds but I wanted to give the scenes more character and it was pretty fun, even if it’s not perfect.

I also thought to myself “maybe the reason Moomin didn’t recognize Snufkin was because he’s never seen Snufkin’s hair deflate in the water” so I drew the comparison to Snufkin and “Snettles” for that one scene where Moomin realized how similar they were. I also imagined his hair gets longer in mermaid form.. hehe! :3

I was also very excited to do my interpretation of the Lady of the Sea but I’ll be honest… I did procrastinate on it for a while which is why it took so long. I know the description said “seaweed green hair” and not the fact it’s actual seaweed but… I hope you don’t mind but I gave her seaweed hair. Made of different types of seaweed too :3 I actually want to colour it at some point but if there’s any changes I should do to her design, you can let me know. I’ve loved to get an accurate idea on her :3 I also used the mermaids from the 90’s as reference to give her fins on her head, although Snufkin doesn’t have any but I’d argue it’s cuz he’s only half mermaid.

It’s a very scattered looking comic kind of page but man! There was so many moments that were genuinely so good I felt tempted to even draw a full comic book on this!!

But no… unfortunately I am very easy to lose motivation and I’ve been and will be pretty busy for the majority of my current life cuz of college and stuff so I’m afraid I can’t draw often.

Good thing I’m on break at the moment :3

But anyway, it was super duper fun drawing these!! I’m actually super duper proud of them :3

Actually…. You wanna know how much I loved my sketch of Moomin and Snufkin on their midnight swim?

I COLOURED IT!! GONE BACK TO MY DIGITAL ART ROOTS FOR THIS!!!

Honestly I don’t think I did that great but I did this on iBisPaint, and there was a version where he had brown hair… until I read a section saying he has red hair so I quickly changed it to how it looks currently.

I also realized too late that the scales on his cheeks weren’t actually scales but freckles… which…. You know what? Fuck it. His freckles turn to fish scales. And they’re shiny :3

I also decided to make his scales glow but then remembered that doesn’t happen till Chapter 13. But hey, I think it gave it a calm feeling with how warm it must feel to be snuggled up like that on the water. Heck even my sister agreed.

Overall, Moomin fanfics have really helped with my art block.

And sorry for the really long yapping session. I like talking about my thought process on these things, and I genuinely can’t wait for the next chapter whenever or if it ever comes. I understand you’re busy so I don’t blame you but… damn you really left it on a cliffhanger huh? Still love it though! :3

Also I’m not sure why the link for the fic isn’t working properly cuz normally it would be automatic but… I’ll see if I can fix it at some point (update, I fixed it!)

[pyrriax]

hi tumblr im pyrr pyrriax and im in my trimonthly artist arc, lord help me and all the projects that are currently sitting in my drafts while i am lured in by the siren song of drawing

[driftwooddestiel]

i should go to sleep i think

[cyborgsandrabbits]

Fandom: Wolf 359 (Radio), Time Bombs (Podcast) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary:

Mark Midland doesn't have a particularly long memory. He woke up one day in an apartment in New York, with no memory of his life before. All he has are vague feelings of things he should remember and unfamiliar voices echoing in the back of his mind. On the last night of his first year as an EOD officer, he meets a reporter who feels more familiar to him than anyone he's met since his new life began.

[everythingsinred]

Hey considering Natsume danced with a lot of girls just because Mikan said she was never going to dance with him.

Do you think that in a hypothetical scenario Natsume would have been able to kiss another girl just because Mikan kissed someone? Like for jealousy? just kiss, not be boyfriend and girlfriend or fall in love. I want to know what you think.

Hiii!

IDK if you are the same person who asked about Natsume's jealousy and petty reactions with the dancing before or not, but if not I find it interesting that this aspect of their relationship sticks out to people. Not that it doesn't stick out to me, but it's something I've been asked about a couple of times before and that seems interesting to me.

I've talked about this event in these answers (one & two) and in this part of Natsume's essay.

ANYWAY.... to answer your question briefly.... No. I don't think he would.

Long answer is under the cut.

Natsume danced with those girls in Chapter 26 because Mikan announced loudly she'd never dance with Natsume, and he took that personally. BUT I must also state that we see him dancing with only one girl to spite Mikan. Mikan assumes she's the only person he won't dance with, and I personally believe he was busying himself and spiting her by dancing with others, but there's no real proof that he did beside the one girl.

He clearly got bored pretty fast and ran away to hide in the woods away from other human beings so he wouldn't have to dance anymore.

This contrasts with his behavior at the Christmas Ball, where he clearly intends to hide in the tree for the whole event, stopping by for a slice of cake real quick. He only gets himself involved in the events when Ruka forces him to dance with Mikan. If it weren't for that, I think he would have stayed in the tree the whole time and wouldn't have danced with anybody else.

Natsume dances with other girls in Chapter 26 because Mikan says she wouldn't dance with him. It's one of the rare things he does out of spite. Mikan flat out tells Natsume she doesn't see why anybody would want to kiss him and his response to spite her is to kiss her.

Also I must stress that Natsume believes she has been kissed by someone else!

He thinks Ruka kissed her earlier that evening and has thought so all evening since Ruka kissed her on the cheek (she has been acting strangely and blushing and generally freaking out. He doesn't necessarily see this, but one of her concerns is that Ruka not get the wrong idea about her accidental "tooth kiss" with Natsume).

He thinks she has been kissed before, and his response is not to kiss somebody else. Natsume doesn't really want to hurt Mikan, firstly. Secondly, the whole "spite" thing only works if he thinks Mikan wants to kiss him, or could possibly be bothered by the idea of kissing someone else, and his self-hatred prevents that.

Mikan danced with almost everybody in Chapter 26, except for Natsume. To get back at her, he dances with everyone but her. There's not really any outwardly romantic insinuation about dancing since they both do it so liberally that night.

Kissing is different. Kissing is not something that Mikan would do with just anyone, and in Chapter 50, Natsume is convinced she's kissed Ruka and that the two like each other. If Mikan likes Ruka, then she probably won't care if Natsume kisses somebody else, right?

Besides, Mikan has convinced herself that Natsume has kissing experience too, and he doesn't really correct that. We could take that as his spiteful act, since he's giving the same thing Mikan is: not communicating clearly.

I genuinely think Natsume's behavior in Chapter 26 is out of the ordinary. He has a new interest in a girl, something he's not used to. His jealousy usually punishes the person he's jealous of (think Tsubasa or Tono, who can hug Mikan freely when he can't), or Mikan by just insulting her if he can't punish the person he's jealous of (he never punishes Ruka).

But his way of hurting Mikan is really specific after this: he generally tells her Ruka is too good for her, or he calls her names. It's not about how Natsume thinks he deserves better than her. At no point in the manga does he hint to Mikan that he's interested in any girl other than her (he dances with one girl that we see in Chapter 26, but since she's supposedly one of many, that means she's not special, AND Luna in the Sports Fest, against his will, so not done to make Mikan jealous).

This is actually why I don't care much for playboy! Natsume in fics; emotions or not, he's just flat out uninterested in them. He's so laser-focused on Mikan that he gives up really easily. He doesn't think making Mikan jealous is possible, also, so he doesn't try. He has a really low self esteem and that's part of the reason it takes so long for them to actually communicate their feelings.

That's the reason Natsume tells her to tell him she loves him with her own voice in the Rapunzel Arc: he's still not sure of it. He continuously doubts Mikan's feelings and considers his stronger than hers, which leads ultimately to his death. His whole arc is about sacrifice, and a big part of that is feeling that his role in people's life is protecting them, rather than any innate value he has for them.

It's also the reason why people use Luna to make Mikan jealous in fics!

I know this might bother people, but Luna is often used in fics, typically AUs, to make Mikan jealous. As we know, Luna is actually significantly older than the kids and is not at all interested in Natsume because she 1. treats him like shit and 2. is actually in love with the ESP. However, jealousy is such a huge part of most fics, and considering that jealousy of Luna is what made Mikan realize her feelings for Natsume, it feels like an important facet to the NM relationship, even in an AU.

I agree with this! I have even written a lil post about how hard it is to do a jealous!Mikan arc for a fic without using Luna. So, actually, despite it technically being OOC for Luna to be genuinely interested in Natsume, I don't care. I think Luna can and should be used in whichever way people want, since her role in canon cannot be easily transferred to an AU where Gulliver candy doesn't exist. (I do it too. Luna's is too flexible a role in the manga to not be toyed with in fics... be mad if you want but that's your problem.)

(To elaborate, Luna's role in the manga is to irritate Mikan but specifically by making her jealous and endangering Mikan's relationship with Natsume. Because of Luna, Mikan has to face the fact that at first she dislikes a girl just because it seems Natsume "likes" her, and then further, to assess why she's jealous when Luna reveals herself more. If one were to stick with Luna being the same age as Yuka in AUs, that's fine, but considering that Luna does play a vital role in making Mikan jealous in the manga, I don't think it's that weird to run with that in AUs. Hope that makes sense.)

Someone in the replies to the above mentioned post references using misunderstandings, and yes that's possible, but it would be momentary, like it is in the manga. Misunderstandings are difficult to stretch out or make enjoyable in fics. In fact, Mikan's misunderstanding that Natsume has kissed other girls in Chapter 50 is actually cleared up by Natsume himself right after he kisses her!

To sum it up, Natsume's clearly not all that interested in making Mikan jealous for a prolonged period of time anyway. He clears up misunderstandings quick and his one spite-motivated jealousy tactic is not all that romantic considering how much they dance with other people. I also don't think Natsume would want to have kissed someone other than Mikan, tbh. He gets bored of dancing with other girls in Chapter 26 so going out of his way to kiss another girl? That's just not interesting to him and would be punishing himself more than her.

I don't know if I communicated all my points in the best way, but long story short: no, I don't think he'd kiss another girl to spite Mikan or make her jealous.

[mizzmellos]

i didn't really like the finished piece as much but i loooooooooooved this WIP idk i was getting so close to capturing how i see them. anyway just posting randomly cuz this stage of the piece is lost to time at this point.

[yannfredericks]

>:(