#starry eyes and counting down to zero

[permanenttwine]

Starry Eyes and Counting Down to Zero 💜✨

a lot of media assumes robots would be immortal but i think its a lot more interesting to explore robots dealing with their parts wearing down and battery life shortening and all the horrible little failings that come with being a complicated machine. sure they can replace parts but you'd assume you cant completely ship of theseus them, or it'd have pretty big rammifications on their sense of identity. idk. give me robots with distinct, unique signs of aging. as a treat.

[lee-laurent]

Sparks in Jersey - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke finally has the chance to wow the girl of his dreams

content: angst, fluff, underage drinking, kissing, suggestive jokes

wc: 7.1k

notes: requested!!! enjoyyyy

"Jack, stop!" Blair whisper-yelled, trying to stifle her laughter as the two of them crouched behind the bushes. "If you get caught, your mom's gonna ground you, and then I'll be next."

"She won't catch us," Jack whispered back, his wide grin not matching his feigned seriousness. He held up the spray can like a prized trophy, its contents intended for the blank patch of wooden fence at the back of the yard. "This is art, Blair. ART."

Blair rolled her eyes, nudging him with her elbow. "You're a menace, Rowdy. If I get in trouble, I'm blaming you."

"Yeah, yeah," Jack said dismissively as he shook the can and began spraying a wobbly rendition of a hockey stick.

From the corner of her eye, Blair caught a small figure creeping through the grass toward them. Eight-year-old Luke wasn't great at sneaking--his floppy hair and oversized hand-me-down hoodie made him a blur of movement as he crouched and tripped his way to their hiding spot.

"Guys!" Luke whisper-shouted, clutching a flashlight in one hand. "Mom's looking for you. If she sees this, you're gonna get in so much trouble!"

Jack turned to shush his brother, but Blair intervened first, pressing a finger to her lips. "Luke," she said softly, leaning toward him. "We're almost done. Be our lookout, and we'll owe you one, okay?"

Luke froze, wide-eyed, as Blair's attention zeroed in on him. He nodded so quickly it almost looked painful. "Okay. But if you get caught, it wasn't my idea."

The grin Blair flashed him felt like the sun breaking through the clouds. Luke planted himself by the edge of the fence, clutching the flashlight like it was his badge of honour.

Luke knew one thing for certain: if it meant protecting Blair, he'd do it.

~~

Blair Adams had lost count of people who assumed she and Jack were siblings. From the time they started grade school together, their lives had intertwined like vines--endless hockey games, late-night study sessions, and whispered secrets that only best friends would understand.

By the time high school rolled around, they were practically inseperable. If one of them was missing school, then the other was guaranteed to be moping around the whole day. So when Jack got drafted to the Devils and she got into Princeton, it wasn't even a question that they'd live together.

Jack was her family in every way that mattered. But his brothers? That was a different story.

Luke, the youngest Hughes sibling, had always been sweet--quiet in a way that balanced Jack's constant energy. Blair remembered him as the little boy who followed them everywhere, starry-eyed and eager to impress.

And now he was moving into their apartment.

Blair set her coffee cup on the counter, glancing at the clock. Jack had texted her that morning, reminding her about Luke's arrival, and while she wasn't nervous, she did feel... curious. She hadn't seen Luke since a couple Christmases ago, and even then, their interactions had been brief.

"Probably still a beanpole," she muttered to herself. She couldn't picture him as anything but Jack's little brother.

Still, the thought lingered as she tidied the living room.

~~

Luke sat in the back of the Uber, his hands fidgeting in his lap as they wound through Newark's crowded streets. His suitcase bumped against his knee with every pothole, but he barely noticed.

He was finally here.

His older brothers had always been larger-than-life figures in his world. Quinn was the golden child--quiet, disciplined, and effortlessly skilled. Jack, on the other hand, was the whirlwind--his humour and energy lighting up every room he walked into.

But Blair? She was someone else entirely.

For as long as Luke could remember, Blair had been part of the family. She'd been at every birthday party, every Thanksgiving dinner, and every summer barbeque. And Luke had always adored her, even before he knew what the word crush meant.

Back then, he'd thought his feelings were something he'd grow out of, like his obsession with dinosaur pyjamas. But as he got older, those feelings only deepened.

Now, at 20, with two years of college hockey under his belt and an NHL debut on the horizon, Luke felt ready. Ready to prove that what he felt for Blair wasn't some childish infatuation.

He gripped the strap of his bag tighter. "Play it cool," he muttered to himself. "She probably still thinks you're a kid."

But what if she didn't?

When he walked into the apartment, Jack was already waiting, sprawled on the couch in sweatpants with his phone in hand.

"There he is," Jack said with a grin, standing to pull his brother into a quick hug. "Welcome to Casa Hughes-Adams."

Luke glanced around the space. It felt warm and lived-in, with mismatched throw pillows and the faint scent of cinnamon. It didn't escape his notice that Blair wasn't in sight.

"She's in the kitchen," Jack said, as if reading his thoughts.

"Who?" Luke asked, feigning indifference.

Jack smirked, leaning in. "Blair, dummy. And before you ask--yes, she's still single."

"Jack.." Luke warned.

"I'm just saying," he threw his hands up in mock innocence. "You two are gonna be living together. Might as well shoot your shot."

"Jack."

Jack grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. "Relax, Lukey. I'm just here to help. Now, go say hi before she starts unpacking your bags for you."

As Luke moved toward the kitchen, his heart thudding, he caught the glint in Jack's eye. Whatever he was planning, it was bound to be trouble.

~~

Blair was standing by the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed and a teasing smirk playing on her lips as Luke wrestled a suitcase. The duffle slung over his shoulder slipped down his arm, and he cursed softly under his breath, making her bite back a laugh.

"Need help there, big shot?"

Luke looked up, a sheepish grin breaking across his face. "Nah, I've got it. Totally under control."

Blair's teasing died in her throat. When did he get a jawline like that? she wondered, her gaze catching on the sharp angles of his face, the broad set of his shoulders, the way he carried himself--despite his current struggle with luggage.

She blinked, forcing herself to refocus. Relax. It's Luke. Jack's little brother.

Still, as he straightened and ran a hand through his hair, her stomach did a flip.

Luke caught her staring and raised an eyebrow. "Something on my face?"

"Nope," Blair said quickly, turning toward the living room and willing the heat in her cheeks to dissipate. "Let me show you where your room is before you destroy the place."

Luke followed her, taking in the apartment as he went. It felt surreal being there, sharing the space with Blair. The same Blair he used to follow around as a kid, who used to ruffle his hair and call him "Lukey." Now she was standing there, effortlessly beautiful, and he couldn't decide if the butterflies in his stomach were exhilerating or terrifying.

Once they'd unloaded his bags into the spare room, Blair escaped to the kitchen, grateful for the excuse to put some distance between them. She leaned against the counter, staring at the fridge as if it held the answers to life's most pressing questions.

Okay, so Luke's grown up. Big deal. He's an athlete; they all end up looking like Greek statues. She snorted at the thought and shook her head. Doesn't mean anything.

Still, the image of him smiling at her--his dimple making a rare appearance--lingered in her mind.

"Get a grip, B," she mumbled, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. "He's Jack's little brother. End of story."

But the flicker of doubt refused to fade.

~~

Later that evening, Jack stood in the doorway, pulling on his jacket.

"Wait, you're leaving?" Blair asked, arms of full of laundry she'd been folding on the couch.

"Yup," Jack said, popping the 'p.' "Dinner with some of the guys. You two have fun."

Blair frowned. "You didn't mention that earlier."

"Didn't I?" he replied innocently. "Must've slipped my mind."

Luke appeared from the hallway, his hair still damp from a post-flight shower. He glanced between the two of them, his expression cautious. "You're going out?"

Jack clapped him on the shoulder. "Yeah, but don't worry. Blair will take care of you." He shot Blair a pointed look before sauntering out the door, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

Blair rolled her eyes, muttering, "Subtle as a brick, that one."

Luke cleared his throat. "So, uh, what's for dinner?"

They ended up in the kitchen, pulling ingredients from the fridge.

"How do you feel about spaghetti?" Blair asked, holding up a box of pasta.

"Sounds good."

They worked together in silence for a while, the only sounds the clinking of pots and the soft hum of the stove. But as the pasta boiled, Blair leaned back against the counter, studying Luke.

"So... how's it feel finally making the big move?"

Luke shrugged, stirring the sauce. "Good, I think. A little surreal, honestly. I mean, this is Jack's turf. I'm just trying not to screw it up."

Blair softened. "You'll be fine, Lukey. You're good at what you do. Plus, Jack thinks he's way cooler than he actually is."

Luke laughed, the sound warm and rich, and Blair felt her chest get tight.

As they sat down to eat, the conversation drifted to Jack--his quirks, his bad habits, and all the ridiculous things he and Blair did as kids.

"Remember that time he put hot sauce in my water bottle?" Blair asked, laughing.

"Oh, yeah. You chased him with a fucking hockey stick."

"I should've hit him with it," she shook her head.

Luke leaned forward, his gaze softer. "You were always good at keeping him in line."

Her laughter faltered under the weight of his words, their eyes meeting.

"Yeah, well," she said lightly. "Someone had to. Hell... I still do."

The rest of the evening passed smoothly, but as they cleaned up the kitchen together, Blair felt like something had shifted. Luke might not just be Jack's little brother.

And that scared her... a lot.

~~

Blair had always thought of herself as someone who adapted quickly, but living with Luke Hughes presented a unique challenge. Much different than living with Jack. He wasn't difficult, per se--in fact, he was the opposite. Too helpful. Too funny. And, if she was being honest, too damn distracting.

It was the little things that threw her off.

Like the way he always tidied up without being asked. She'd leave her coffee mug in the sink and come back to find it washed and drying on the rack. Or the way he'd linger in the kitchen, chatting about his day as she cooked, leaning casually against the counter with his stupidly charming, crooked grin.

And then there were his routines. Every morning, Luke came out of his room in sweats and t-shirt, his hair adorably mussed from sleep, to make a protein shake before his workout. The sight had become so familiar that it almost felt... domestic.

Get it together, she'd tell herself for the thousandth time as she passed him on her way to make her coffee. But as she caught the faint scent of his cologne mixed with his shampoo, she couldn't help the butterflies she felt.

Luke wasn't sure what he expected when he moved in, but things had been going better than he'd hoped. Sure, living with Blair was a constant exercise in restraint--her laugh, her quick wit, the way she'd hum under her breath when she thought no one was listening--it was enough to drive him insane.

But he'd made a plan.

Step one: Show her he wasn't a kid anymore.

It was in the small things. Like volunteering to carry the groceries or fixing the wobbly kitchen stool without anyone asking. He made sure to cook extras for her once in a while, too--nothing fancy, just enough to make her pause and say, "Wow, you've really got this adulting thing down."

Step two: Flirt... just a little

Luke wasn't reckless enough to come on strong, but he'd test the waters now and then--a playful nudge when they passed in the hallway, a comment about how her sweatpants made her look cozy. He lived for the moments when her cheeks turned pink, even if she brushed off his remarks with a roll of her eyes.

What he didn't expect, though, was how much just being around her would feel so... right.

~~

Blair was cozied up on the couch, her laptop balanced on her lap as she scrolled through pages of research for a project. Luke was on the other end of the couch, his long legs taking up more than his fair share of space as he half-watched a hockey game on the TV.

"Hey, where's Jack?" Blair asked, glancing at the time. It was past seven, and he hadn't returned from his workout.

Luke shrugged, not looking up from his phone. "He said he was meeting some guys for dinner. I don't know."

She frowned. "Didn't he do that yesterday?"

Luke smirked, finally looking at her. "Maybe he's just really into team bonding."

Blair narrowed her eyes. Something was definitely up. Over the past week, Jack had mysteriously disappeared more often that usual, leaving her and Luke to fend for themselves. It wasn't that she minded the company--Luke was easy to get along with--but the pattern was hard to ignore.

Later that night, as she was rinsing her coffee mug (the one Luke usually beat her to), her phone buzzed with a text from Jack.

Jack: How's it going? You two getting along?

Blair: fine. why?

Jack: No reason

Her gut was telling her he was up to something.

Meanwhile, Luke passed by, grabbing a glass of water and shooting her a quick smile. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Blair said slowly, slipping her phone into her back pocket. But as Luke left, she couldn't shake the idea that her best friend was trying to play matchmaker.

~~

Jack was still out and the apartment was oddly quiet. Blair had given up on her work and was now scrolling through Netflix in search of something mindless.

"You watching something?" Luke asked as he emerged from his room, a hoodie thrown on over his sweats.

"Trying to," she replied, tossing the remote in his direction. "Your turn to pick. I'm too indecisive tonight."

Luke caught it easily and plopped down beside her, the cushion dipping under his weight. He scrolled for a minute before settling on a documentary about space exploration.

"Space?" Blair cocked an eyebrow.

"Come on, it's cool," Luke said, grinning. "Plus, you might learn something."

She rolled her eyes, but stayed put. As the documentary started, she found herself leaning into the couch, her shoulder brushing against Luke's. It wasn't much, just the barest contact, but it sent a spark through her.

At one point, Luke turned to make a comment about the astronauts, his voice low and close enough that she felt the warmth of it on her cheek. She glanced at him, and for a split second, the room seemed to hold its breath.

But then Luke pulled back, casually sipping his water as if nothing had happened.

Blair just exhaled, turning her attention back to the stipid documentary.

~~

The rain tapped against the windows of the apartment, the kind of soothing sound that made everything feel a bit more intimate. Blair was on the floor, sorting through all of her notebooks from every year of college. Luke was on the sofa, tossing a ball in the air absentmindedly.

"You sure you don't want me to just toss all this for you?" he teased, nodding at the stack of papers that threatened to topple.

Blair shot him a glare. "Do you want me to throw out all your hockey gear?"

"Touché." He grinned. "But my gear gets me paid. Does this" --he picked up one of her notebooks, flipping through it--"get you paid?"

"Rude," she said, snatching it back, though she couldn't stop her smile.

Luke leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. The movement drew her attention, and for a moment, Blair found herself distracted by how easily he seemed to fit into every situation. He wasn't a little kid anymore, and she was starting to notice.

"Why do you keep all this, anyway?"

Blair shrugged, shutting another notebook and hugging it to her chest. "I don't know. I guess in case I ever need any of it. Or... it reminds me of where I started. It's easy to lose sight of that when you're trying to figure out where you're going."

Luke set the ball down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I get that," he said. "Sometimes I feel like... I don't know, like I'm chasing something. Trying to prove I belong. First at Michigan, now here."

"You? You're one of the Hughes brothers. People expect you to belong."

Luke laughed, but it was a quiet, self-deprecating sound. "That's the problem. Everyone expects me to be just like Jack or Quinn. And they're... amazing. Don't get me wrong. But sometimes it feels like I'm playing catch-up, you know?"

Blair’s chest tightened at the vulnerability in his voice. She shifted onto the couch beside him, her knee brushing against his. “You’re not Jack or Quinn,” she said softly. “You’re Luke. And that’s enough. It’s more than enough.”

"Do you really think that?"

"I know it."

"What about you?" Luke asked. "You've got this whole life mapped out--Princeton, your career. Doesn't it ever feel... heavy?"

Blair hesitated, surprised by how much she wanted to answer honestly. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “It’s like I’ve been so focused on what I’m supposed to do--keeping up with school, supporting Jack, being the dependable one--that I forget to think about what I actually want.”

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

The rain outside grew heavier, the rhythm filling any silence between them. Blair glanced at him, his profile softened by the dim glow of the lamp. She felt her pulse quicken, the air between them charged.

"You're not what I expected," she whispered.

"What?"

Blair hit her lip, searching for the best words. "When Jack said you were moving in, I thought it'd be... different. I don't know. But you're--"

"Not a kid anymore?" he finished for her, a small, teasing smile playing on his lips.

Blair's heart stuttered. "Yeah. Something like that."

The smile faded as their gazes locked. The teasing warmth in Luke's eyes gave way to something deeper, something that made Blair's breath catch.

He leaned in slightly--not enough to close the distance, but enough for her to notice. For her to feel the magnetic pull between them.

"Blair," he whispered.

Her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine, but reality crashed over her like a wave of cold water.

She pulled back abruptly, breaking the spell. "I should... I should finish sorting these," she said, gesturing to the forgotten notebooks. Her voice sounded unsteady, even to her own ears.

Luke blinked, leaning back as if to give her space. "Right. Of course."

He didn't push, but the disappointment in his eyes was unmistakable.

Blair sat in bed that night, staring at the ceiling as the scene replayed in her mind like a broken record. She could still feel his breath on her, the way he looked at her like nothing else mattered.

He's Jack's little brother, she reminded herself, gripping the blanket tightly. This can't happen.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shut her brain off and fall asleep.

In the room down the hall, Luke lay awake, staring at the ceiling in the same way: This can't just be a crush anymore.

~~

Jack was sitting on a stool, arms crossed, a devious grin spreading across his face as he watched Blair finish her coffee.

"So," he said casually, "I was thinking we should do a group night. You, me, Luke, maybe a couple teammates and their girlfriends. Drinks, a movie, the works. Sound good?"

"Group night? Since when do you plan movie nights?"

"Since I'm such a generous, thoughtful friend," Jack replied. "Come on, Blair. You've been working nonstop. You need to relax."

Blair glanced at Luke, who was silently buttering toast at the counter. "Sure. Why not? It could be fun."

"Great." Jack clapped his hands together. "I'll set it up."

Unbeknownst to her, Luke caught Jack's michievous glance over Blair's shoulder.

~~

Two nights later, Blair was setting out snacks as Luke flipped through all the different streaming services the three of them were subscribed to. The apartment was warm and cozy, the perfect atmosphere for a chill night with their friends.

"Where is everyone?" Blair asked, frowning as she checked her phone.

Luke smirked, already knowing the answer. "Check your messages."

Jack: Oops! Something came up. Can't make it tonight. Have fun without me!!

She groaned, running a hand over her face. "Unbelievable."

Luke laughed, plopping onto the couch. "Guess it's just us, then."

Blair hesitated, tempted to go curl up in her bed with a mug of hot chocolate and watch a cheesy rom-com on Netflix. But as she glanced at Luke, comfortably lounging on the sofa, his smile easy as ever, she decided against it.

"Fine," she said, grabbing two coolers from the fridge. "But you're not getting out of picking a movie."

Half an hour in, the movie played, but Blair was much more interested in Luke than the plot.

He was relaxed, his arm draped over the back of the couch--not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence. Every so often, he'd glance her way to catch her reaction.

"This movie's fucking ridiculous," Luke said, shaking his head at the over-the-top action scene.

"I feel like that's the point," Blair replied, tossing a piece of popcorn at him.

Luke caught it, popping it into his mouth with a smug grin. "Impressive, right?"

"Maybe you're the ridiculous one."

"And yet, here you are, stuck watching this shit movie with me."

She turned to scowl at him, but it faltered as their eyes met. The room seemed to shrink, the movie getting quieter. Luke looked down to her lips, catching himself and looking back at her eyes.

She looked away quickly, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "We should... get back to the movie."

"R-right, the, uh, the movie."

As soon as the end credits rolled, Blair busied herself with cleaning up, grateful to have something to do. Anything.

She'd enjoyed their unexpected time alone more than she cared to admit. Luke always made her laugh, left her feeling... seen. It was new. Different.

Too different, she thought as she set the popcorn bowl in the sink.

The idea of crossing that line with Luke felt impossible. Jack was practically her brother, and Luke was his little brother. No matter how much he'd grown, or changed, it still felt... complicated.

Luke watched from the couch as she washed the dishes. Her hair was messy from where she'd ruffled it during the movie, and the way she smiled as she hummed to herself made his chest ache.

"Hey."

"Yeah?" she glanced over her shoulder.

"Thanks for hanging out tonight," he said, his tone genuine. "Even... if Jack bailed."

Blair turned to face him fully, drying her hands on a tea towel. "Yeah, well, you're not the worst company."

Luke smirked. "That's high praise coming from you."

"Don't let it get to your head."

"Too late," he chuckled, standing up to grab a drink, his shoulder brushing hers as he reached for a glass. The touch was subtle, almost nonexistant, but Blair felt like her skin was on fire.

Luke caught the way she stiffened, but instead of pulling back, he stayed close, voice lower. "You know, you don't have to keep pretending."

"Pretending what?"

"That you don't like being around me."

Her breath caught, her mind racing for a response, but he stepped back, giving her space.

"Goodnight, Blair," he teased, heading to his room.

She wasn't sure what she felt more: frustration at herself for the way her heart reacted to him... or the undeniable truth that Luke wasn't wrong.

~~

The post-game energy was infectious, the crowd buzzing as fans lingered in the arena, snapping selfies and chatting excitedly. Blair stood near the players' tunnel, sipping a beer and watching Luke from afar.

He was good at this, she realized. Not just the hockey part--though he'd had an impressive game tonight--but the whole... persona. The awkward Luke smiles, the attention he gave to fans, the way he handled it without the sass his brother did.

She wasn't the only one who noticed.

Blair stiffened as a blonde girl, maybe a year or two younger than her, leaned close to him. She was bold, confident in the way only someone used to getting attention could be.

Blair tried to brush off as she watched Luke smile politely, but then the girl handed him her phone. Luke hesitated for a moment before taking it, his expression unreadable.

Her stomach twisted. She didn't want to feel this way--this hot, irrational pang of jealousy that clenched her chest like a vice. But when the girl's face lit up, giddy with what was probably Luke's number, she had to look away.

It wasn't her place to care. She had no claim over Luke. He was free to flirt with whoever he wanted.

~~

Blair was laying in her bed, a half-empty glass of wine resting on her bedside table. The room was dark, her laptop playing an episode of Law and Order that she'd already seen.

She heard the front door open, a bag hit the hardwood floor. Then Jack strolled into her room, flopping onto her bed like he owned the place.

"Alright, what's up?"

Blair glanced over at him. "What do you mean?"

"You're drinking wine in the dark and watching a show you've seen a million times. That's weird."

She groaned, burying her face in her duvet. "You're insufferable."

"Yeah, but I'm also right." Jack leaned back against the headboard. "So spill. What's got you all mopey?"

She grabbed her glass of wine, downing the rest of it. "It's nothing, okay? Just drop it."

Jack gave her a long look, his smirk softening into something more serious. "Blair. I've known you for, like, ever. You're not okay. Just tell me."

"It's... it's Luke."

Jack's eyebrows shot up, and his grin was immediate. "Finally."

"This is exactly why I didn't want to say anything!"

"No, no, this is great!" he sat up, his excitement bubbling over. "You like him! Like, like-like him."

"Can you not make it sound like we're in middle school?" Blair shot back, though her face burned at his words.

"Okay, fine... but you're into him, right?"

"I don't know. Maybe," she whispered.

Jack nudged her shoulder. "You do."

Blair let out a frustrated laugh. "Jack, it's complicated. He's your brother. I've known him since he was a kid. And tonight, at the game, there was this girl, and he was..."

Jack frowned. "And you were jealous."

She bit her lip but didn't deny it.

Jack leaned over, grabbing her glass from her and putting it down on the nightstand. "Blair, listen to me. Luke's not a kid anymore. He hasn't been for a long time. And he's crazy about you. He's been crazy about you since he was old enough to know what a crush was."

"He doesn't--"

"He does," he interrupted firmly. "And I'm telling you, you don't have to feel guilty about this. If you like him--and I think you do--then let yourself have this. You deserve it. He does, too."

"And... you're okay with it? With us?"

Jack grinned. "Blair, you're my favourite person in the world. Luke's my brother. If the two of you make each other happy, the yeah, I'm okay with it. More than okay."

~~

Luke couldn't help but notice that Blair hadn't talked to him after the game. He didn't even see her until the next morning when she was making her daily coffee.

"Morning."

"Morning," she said, not even turning to look at him.

He grabbed some frozen fruit from the freezer, getting ready to make his smoothie. "You okay?"

Blair hesitated, taking a look at his face. He looked tired, like he hadn't slept much, but his eyes were still as warm as always.

"Yeah. Just... thinking."

"'Bout what?"

"About how much things have changed. And how... how much you've changed."

"Good change or, uh, bad change?"

"Good... I think."

Then air felt heavier, but not in a bad way. Luke clicked his tongue, about to respond when Blair brushed past him, wrapping her housecoat around her tighter.

"I'm gonna get ready for class."

~~

Luke was tired of just waiting for things to change. Blair deserved more than casual glances and hesitant words. She deserved to know how he felt, and he decided it was time to show her.

He looked down at the litle notebook resting on the table, one he'd seen Blair scribbling in late one night while she thought no one was around. It didn't seem to be much--just a collection of her to-do lists and random thoughts--but it had sparked an idea.

Blair arrived home from classes, balancing her tote bag and a paper bag of takeout. She kicked the door shut behind her, surprised by the warm glow of the apartment. The living room was dimly lit, a few candles flickering on the coffee table.

"Luke?" she called, setting her things down.

"In here," came his voice from their balcony.

Blair crossed the room, stepping outside to find Luke leaning against the railing. The table next to him was set with two plates, her favourite flowers in a simple vase at the centre.

"What's all this?"

Luke stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I just... I wanted to do something for you. You've been working so hard, and I thought you could use a break."

"Luke, you didn't have to--"

"I wanted to," he interrupted.

He pulled out one of the chairs for her, gesturing for her to sit. Blair hesitated but eventually lowered herself into the seat. Luke took the spot across from her, his nervousness barely contained.

As they started eating, Blair couldn't help but notice the little details--how he'd ordered her favourite dish, how he kept the conversation light but still genuine. It was thoughtful... thoughtful in a personal way.

After dinner, Luke retrieved something from inside, returning with a small, wrapped package.

"What's this?" Blair asked.

"Just... open it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

She tore the paper carefully, revealing a leather-bound notebook. It looked old; the edges were slightly worn, and the faint smell of ink and must wafted from it.

Blair ran her fingers over the cover, her breath catching. "This is... like the one I had as a kid."

Luke nodded. "You, uh, you told it about me during one of our late-night talks. How you used to write everything down--your dreams, stories, your plans for the future. I thought... you could start again... as an adult."

Blair's throat felt tight as she opened the journal. It was so simple, but it meant everything.

"Luke..."

He stepped closer, crouching slightly to meet her eyes. "Blair, you've always been this incredible, unstoppable force. And I just... I wanted you to have something that reminds you of that."

She stood, clutching the notebook to her chest. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you matter to me, Blair. More than you know."

"Lu-"

"I know I'm just Jack's little brother to you," he said quietly, his voice steady despite his vulnerability. "But I'm not a kid anymore. And I've been waiting my whole life for you to see me--really see me."

Blair stared at him, processing his words. For so long, she'd fought against the pull she felt toward him, telling herself it was wrong, that it would complicate everything. But in that moment, with Luke standing in front of her, open and unguarded, she couldn't deny it anymore.

She reached up, her fingers brushing against his cheek. "You're not just Jack's little brother."

Luke's eyes widened slightly, his breath hitching as her hand lingered. Slowly, carefully, he leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against hers.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered.

But she didn't pull away. Instead, she closed the space, her lips brushing his in the most electrifying kiss of her life. Years of tension and unspoken moments poured into their kiss.

Blair pulled away, her cheeks flushed. "You've always been waiting for me to see you?"

"Yeah. And you were worth the wait."

~~

The morning after their kiss, Blair replayed the moment over and over again. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word from Luke had burned itself into her memory.

"Morning."

She jumped as Luke's voice cut through the quiet. She looked up to find him standing in front of her, his hair mussed.

"Morning."

"So... about last night."

Blair swallowed, setting down her coffee. "Yeah... we should probably talk about that."

Luke nodded. "Look, I'm not sorry it happened. But I don't want to make things harder for you. Or for us."

Blair's lips pressed into a thin line. "Jack's going to notice if things... change. And the rest of your family... I just don't want things to get too complicated too fast."

"So, what? We sneak around for a while? Keep this a secret?"

"Maybe," Blair said through her nervous smile.

Luke grinned, stepping closer until he was right in front of her. "I can work with that."

When his hand brushed against hers on the table, she didn't pull away.

Keeping their relationship under wraps turned out to be equal parts thrilling and frustrating.

There were more stolen moments in the kitchen, their hands brushing as they cooked. Blair would catch Luke staring from across the room, his eyes filled with something new.

Once when Jack was napping in his room, Luke cornered Blair in the hallway, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was quick but left her breathless.

"Someone's going to catch us," she whispered, trying to sound stern but failing.

Luke smirked, hands resting on her waist. "You worried about Rowdy? He sleeps like a rock."

Still, the constant sneaking around wasn't without its challenges. Jack had a knack for walking in at the worst possible times, forcing Blair and Luke to spring apart like guilty teenagers.

"Why are you both so jumpy lately?" Jack asked one evening, narrowing his eyes at them as they sat on opposite sides of the sofa.

"Jumpy? We're not jumpy," Blair replied quickly, her voice a little too high-pitched.

"Yeah," Luke added. "You're imagining things, Jack."

Jack's eyes narrowed further, but he didn't press--yet.

But it didn't take long for him to connect the dots. He wasn't oblivious, despite what Blair and Luke seemed to think.

The knowing grin that spread across his face when he walked into the kitchen and caught them in what they thought was a private moment. Luke's hand was on the small of Blair's back as she stood by the stove, and her laugh was just a bit too soft, too intimate.

"Oh my God," he startled them both.

"Jack! Wha--"

"No way," Jack interrupted, pointing between them. "Are you two fucking?!"

Luke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jack, just--"

"You are!" he shouted. "This is amazing. I knew it! I fucking knew this would happen!"

Blair groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Jack, can you not make this a thing?"

"Oh, it's already a thing," Jack said, crossing his arms triumphantly. "And I'm a genius for making it happen."

"Making it happen?"

Jack shrugged, completely unbothered. "I gave you two all those nights alone. The movie night? You're welcome."

"You... you're telling me you've been matchmaking this whole time?" Blair gasped.

"Matchmaking, nudging, masterminding--call it what you want," Jack said with a smirk. "Point is, I'm responsible for this."

"Yeah, sure, Jack. All you," Luke rolled his eyes.

"So, when's the wedding? Can I be the best man and the maid of honour?"

~~

The sound of goal horn echoed in Luke's ears, but this time, it wasn't in celebration. Another defensive breakdown. Another minus on the scoresheet.

Luke sat in the locker room after, still in his gear, staring blankly at the floor. Around him his teammates untaped sticks and headed for the showers, but he felt frozen.

The reporters were outside, ready to dissect every mistake he'd made that night. The fans would be tweeting about his rookie performance. But worst of all, he'd let himself down.

When he finally got home, it was late. Blair was waiting for him on his bed. The second she saw him, her face softened.

"Hey."

Luke dropped his bag by the door, sinking down into his bed beside her, leaning his head on a pillow with a deep sigh.

"Rough game?"

He nodded, jaw tight. "I keep messing up. It's like... no matter what I do, it's not good enough. I'm not Jack. I'm not Quinn. I don't know if I'll ever be."

Blair reached over, resting a hand on his arm. "Luke, you don't have to be Jack or Quinn. You just have to be you. And you're amazing, even if you don't feel like it right now."

"What if I'm not? What if I'm not cut out for this?"

She shifted closer, wrapping her arms around him. "You are, Luke. And so do a lot of other people. You're allowed to have bad days. It doesn't make you less."

~~

Blair's phone buzzed with yet another text from her mom.

Mama: So... Luke? Are you two really together? Luke as in Jack's little brother?

She sighed, tossing her phone onto the bed beside her.

Her relationship with Luke had been public knowledge for a few weeks now--thanks to Jack's slip of the tongue at a post-game interview--but the fallout was more stressful than she could've anticipated.

Her parents were surprised but supportive, though their questions about the long-term implications left her feeling uneasy. And Jack? He was thrilled that the world knew now, that he didn't have to hide the secret.

"What if this changes everything?" she murmured aloud as she folded her laundry.

"What changes everything?" Luke asked, walking into her room with a bowl of cereal in hand.

Blair hesitated, her hands stilling on one of Luke's sweatshirts. "Us. You. Me and Jack. All of it."

Luke set the bowl down. "Blair, what are you talking about?"

"It's just... I don't want this to mess things up. With your family. With Jack. If something went wrong, it'd be--"

"It's not going to go wrong. And even if it did, that's on me, not you. You're not responsible for holding everything together."

"But I feel like I am. Jack's been like family to me my whole life. And now, with us, it's like I'm risking everything."

Luke took her hands. "You're not risking anything, Blair. Jack loves you. My family loves you. And I... I'm not going anywhere, okay? No matter how hard things get."

But the cracks began to show.

Luke's schedule grew more demanding as the Devils pushed for a playoff spot. Practices ran longer, travel days piled up, and his rookie season came with added scrutiny from fans and the media.

Blair was juggling her internship and her last semester of classes. Their time together became scarce, and when they did have a moment, it was often overshadowed by Luke's frustrations or Blair's anxiety.

"It's like no matter what I do, it's not enough," Luke paced the living room, hands in his hair. "I make on mistake, and everyone is on my ass. Meanwhile, the vets can screw up all night, and no one says a word."

Blair looked up from her computer, bags under her eyes. "Luke, I get it. I do. But can we just... not right now? I have a huge presentation tomorrow, and I'm barely keeping up as it is."

"I didn't mean to dump that on you. I just... forget it."

He turned to leave, but Blair reached out, catching his hand. "Lu, wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just--"

"It's fine," he pulled his hand away. "Good luck with your presentation."

The strain between them was becoming harder to ignore, and she didn't know how much longer they could keep pretending everything was fine.

~~

As soon as Luke entered the apartment, Blair warpped her arms around him. "I know it's been hard," she said quietly. "But I'm here. Always."

Luke exhaled, snaking his arms around her waist. "I know. And I'm sorry. For everything."

"We'll figure it out. Together."

"Yeah... together."

~~

The past few weeks had been spent making quick apologies and sharing half-hearted reassurances that everything was fine. But it wasn't fine. She'd spent so much of her time worrying about what other people wanted that she'd forgotten to think about what she wanted.

And she wanted Luke.

Jack: Game tonight. I snagged you a ticket. Go

~~

She slipped into her seat, spotting Jack on the ice with HUGHES on his back, just like hers and Luke's. He turned, catching her eye, and throwing her a thumbs up.

She spent the whole game watching Luke, her stomach flipping every time he would touch the puck. And when he scored in the second period, she leaped to her feet, cheering louder than everyone around her.

After the game, she waited by the players' tunnel, spotting Luke emerging from the locker room, his hair damp, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Luke!" she called.

His head snapped up, mouth dropping in surprise. "Blair?"

"Hey."

Luke glanced around, clearly aware of the people watching, but Blair didn't care. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"You were amazing!"

"I... I didn't know you were coming."

"I wasn't sure I was going to," she admitted, pulling back from their embrace to look in his eyes. "But then I realized I was being stupid. I don't care what anyone thinks. I'm with you because I want to be."

"You sure?"

"Completely."

~~

Blair attended every home game she could after that. No more secrets and they were feeling the best they had together. She supported him through the highs and lows of his rookie season. And Luke helped her study, even letting her practice her presentations on him.

"You know," she said softly. "I think we're pretty good at this."

Luke cocked an eyebrow. "At what?"

"Us."

He leaned in, lips brushing her temple. "Yeah. We are."

Jack entered the room, a smirk on his face. "Told you so."

[roanofarcc]

BABYDOLL: CHAPTER FOUR. THE DEATH COMPASS

jj maybank x fem!routledge OC // read on Ao3

In which a boy with zero self preservation falls in love with a girl clawing at life.

chapter summary. a twin heart to heart about their dads compass uncovers hope; beating up widows in a dick move; the only family heirloom the routledges had was a cursed compass; roosters are good guard dogs, kind of (rip king)

word count. 5.7 || masterlist

previous chapter < >next chapter

Darkness spread across the Cut, leaving Lottie and her brother sitting opposite of each other with only their silhouettes outlined in faint moonlight. 

“I don’t get it,” she muttered, eyes fixed on the large tree that decorated their backyard. She and John B. used to spend their afternoons racing each other to the top until she fell and broke her arm, swearing off climbing bitterly. “If that compass was so important to dad and passed down in our family for generations, why didn’t he ever show it to me? Or at least tell me about it?” 

Her brother’s shadow shrugged, flipping the lid of the compass open and closed. “He told me about it during a fishing trip one day a couple of years ago.” Lottie resisted the urge to scoff. Of course their dad had. 

When they were little, toddling around in nearly matching clothes and identical haircuts that made them almost indistinguishable, their dad had shared everything with the both of them. Every fishing trip, swimming or surfing lesson, and treasure hunt they did as a family. However, once Lottie got older, morphing more into the crumbled photo of her mom she had on her nightstand, while John B. grew into a mini version of their dad, Lottie became the odd man out or the afterthought. All she got were tight-lipped smiles and a pat on the back while her brother got fishing trips and family secrets. 

“I knew he wasn’t dead,” John B. said more to himself than her. 

She hesitated, always having to tiptoe around the topic of their dad around him. She was unsure herself of what really happened to their dad if he was still alive or long dead at the bottom of the ocean. John B. had more hope, but she wasn’t hopeless. 

“And you think that compass proves that how?” 

“Dad is the last person who’d get lost at sea. He was too smart about that kind of stuff. This compass coming back to us, it has to be a sign that he’s still out there,” he said. “I know that sounds insane, believe me, but dad was insane, right? And you know he’d send us weird, cryptic clues to help us find him before he ever asked the cops for any help.” 

She sighed, turning her attention up to the starry sky split between tree branches. “I don’t know if we’re as insane as dad.” 

“We’ve got to be,” he said before passing off the compass to her. She held it for the first time since they found it an hour or two earlier. Running her thumb across the warm metal lid, she wondered how much she really had in common with her dad. But if her brother was right and they somehow found him alive, maybe she could ask him. She could ask him why things changed, why he treated John B. so differently than her. 

The following morning, with a renewed sense of purpose, Lottie sat in the back of the Twinkie, listening to John B. and JJ bicker per usual. 

“I don’t understand why you don’t at least try it with Kiara, dude,” JJ said, still focused on this idea of John B. and Kie getting together. Lottie hated the idea; they had a rule about no Pogue-on-Pogue macking to avoid weird shifts in their group. If her best friend started dating her brother, it was bound to be messy and Lottie wasn’t even sure if John B. was anywhere near Kie’s type. Her brother, on the other hand, didn’t have a type aside from alive and breathing. 

“First she’s all nervous about you diving and then she kisses you-” 

“On the cheek,” John B. interrupted. “She kissed me on the cheek. It’s not like we were making out.” 

JJ rolled his eyes. “That’s low-hanging fruit, dude. Don’t pretend like you don’t notice. You were literally blushing.” 

“John blushes when the old cashiers at the store tell him to have a good day,” Lottie said, butting into their conversation. 

Her brother grumbled but agreed. 

“Whatever man. All I’m saying is, a girl like that, you gotta make a move before she starts macking on someone else. If you don’t go for it, you’re gonna lose your shot.” 

Leaning forward, poking her head between the front seats, she peered at JJ with raised brows. “It sounds like you’re into Kie.” 

He pursed his lips like he was thinking deeply about it before shaking his head. “Me and Kie? No way.” Lottie narrowed her gaze, warning him not to say anything stupid because above all, she was her best friend and Lottie would do just above anything to defend Kie. He got the hint, holding his hands up in mock defense. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s super sick, but not my macking type.” 

“What is your ‘macking type’ then?” 

Listen, did Lottie want any of the Pogues together? No. But to say Kie wasn’t your type was a little insane. She was smart, passionate, and not to mention hot. JJ never seemed overly picky when flirting with girls during keggers or at school. Much like John B. if a girl had a heartbeat and didn’t ignore him, JJ was pretty much all about it. 

JJ smirked, leaning a little closer to Lottie. “Pope,” he replied, earning a laugh from her. “I mean, tall-ish, dark, and handsome? Sign me up.” 

As they continued down the quiet roads of the Cut, Lottie watched the scenery pass them by in summery greens and blues. Their view wasn’t filled with fancy houses or shops, but the Cut’s nature was pretty enough to make up for that. When it was blurry and speeding by, it was even more beautiful, like a painting. 

On the dashboard rested the compass, inviting JJ to snatch it, much to John B.’s disgruntlement. JJ held it just out of his reach until he gave up and refocused on driving. JJ studied the compass in his hands. “I’ve gotta admit, your dad’s compass in Scooter’s boat, that’s freaky, man.” 

“That’s why we’re going to talk to Mrs. Lana and figure this whole thing out,” John B. said. 

Leaning back in his seat, JJ held up the compass to the sunlight that filtered in through the windshield. “I’m sure she’ll love to talk to us. It’s not like her husband just drown or anything.” 

Lottie patted both boys on the shoulders. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure you assholes don’t say anything stupid.” Don’t get her wrong, the boys were kind and sweet when they wanted to be, but they lacked a filter - JJ mostly. The last thing they needed was for Mrs. Lana to lose it on them for snooping around her dead husband’s boat and belongings. Lottie wasn’t always the greatest with people, but she had a bit more sense and gentleness that would hopefully lead them to some answers. 

The Grubbs’ house was, to put it nicely, eclectic. JJ called it a stoner’s dream shack, but Lottie found that title a tad distasteful. The house was painted colorfully and slotted together with decades of half-assed repairs. It was nestled far out in the Cut, surrounded by trees and overgrowth that could act as a shield to keep certain people out while drawing others in. 

They hopped out of the van and started toward the home, only to stop in their tracks when the sound of voices cut through the air. The yelling was followed by glass shattering, startling the three. Lottie could make out what was being said, but she heard at least two male voices yelling at what sounded like an upset Mrs. Lana. 

“Maybe we should come back another time,” JJ whispered, already stepping back toward the van. “It is a little soon.” 

John B. ignored the blond and continued walking toward the home. Lottie and JJ followed as the sound of objects being thrown and voices grew louder. A high-pitched scream followed the shouts, and the three of them hid flushed against the side of the house. 

“This sounds bad, John,” Lottie worried. Whoever was inside sounded to be doing a number on the place. They seemed to be tearing the place apart. 

Lana’s pleas became louder and more pained, making Lottie's gut twist in awful knots. She wanted to rush inside and help the woman clearly in danger, but the voices of the men held her back. It wasn’t like she or any of them had any kind of weapon- JJ was forced to leave his gun in his backpack back at the Chateau per Lottie’s request, but she had begun to regret that decision. 

Something was thrown hard against the wall they were crouched against the outside of. It hit the wall so hard it caused paint to flake from the siding and rain overtop of them. Lottie brushed the flakes from the top of her head while her brother crept to the corner, peering around for a moment before he retreated. 

Footsteps sounded from the front of the house, stomping down a set of stairs before they were muffled in the grass. They waited for a moment until the sound of an engine replaced the sounds of yells and cries.

A boat pushed through the water, fleeing Mrs. Lana’s home. 

“Those are the same dudes who shot at us!” JJ whisper-yelled, dusting the paint from his shoulders. 

They waited until the men with guns drove off before hurrying inside to see what kind of damage they had done. The boys hesitated just past the threshold, taking in the trashed home, but Lottie followed the sobs of Mrs. Lana. She found the woman curled into herself in the bathroom, just past the broken glass and thrown items scattered across the floor. 

“Mrs. Lana?” Lottie said carefully, kneeling in the doorway just a couple of inches away from the woman. John B. followed suit only a moment later. Tears were tracked down Mrs. Lana’s cheeks, her chest heaved wildly, there was a bloody cut on her chin, and she cradled her arm like it was broken or sprained. “Are you all right?” 

Mrs. Lana simply cried in response, unable to get the words out. Gently, Lottie grasped the shoulder of the arm that wasn’t hurt in an attempt to bring some kind of comfort to her, while John B. asked, “Do you need a doctor? Should we call someone?” 

Lottie glanced at JJ, who hovered above them with an uneasy look plastered across his face. “JJ, call the Sheriff’s department-” she started to instruct, but Mrs. Lana’s eyes widened and she shook her head. 

“No cops! Please, no cops!” 

“Oh, that’s not good,” JJ murmured. “Let’s just go.” He kept looking over his shoulder, skittish, but neither of the twins moved from their spots on the floor. 

“You shouldn’t be here!” Mrs. Lana cried, her voice loud and startling. 

John B. seemed unphased, though. “What do you know about those guys?” he asked her. 

She sniffled, wiping some of the tears from her cheeks. “They were looking for something.” 

John B. dug into his shorts pocket and pulled out the compass, presenting it to Mrs. Lana. “Does it have anything to do with this?” Her eyes widened with recognition. “Do you know anything about this compass? It was our dad’s and Scooter had it. Why?” 

“Scooter didn’t have it,” Mrs. Lana said, her gaze growing more intense as she looked between the three of them. “Don’t tell anyone that you have that, okay? They can’t know!” 

A hand came down on Lottie’s shoulder and she jumped, only to see JJ nod his head toward the door, urging them to get the hell out of there, but John B. wasn’t done asking his plethora of questions. 

“Why?” 

Mrs. Lana shook her head. “You’ve gotta get out of here!” 

“What do you know about the compass?” John B. tried again.��

Mrs. Lana started to yell, “Go! Get out!” over and over again.

The twins finally relented. Lottie hurried to her feet and followed JJ through the home and back toward the front door. She fumbled around in her pocket as they tried to avoid the broken glass and belongings. She pulled out some of the cash JJ had stolen from the safe and left it on Mrs. Lana’s dining room table before they all fled the home. 

The five of them had split the money, to Lottie’s disgruntlement. She and Kie were outnumbered by the boys for what to do with the money. She had hidden it in her bookcase until she heard John B. planned to visit Mrs. Lana to see if she knew anything about the compass to give it to the window who was clearly in more trouble than Lottie had originally thought. 

They wasted no time jumping in the Twinkie and taking off far away from the Grubbs’ house, unsure exactly how to process what had just happened. Why had Mrs. Lana Scooter wasn’t the one with the compass when they found it on his boat? Did Scooter have some sort of connection to their dad that they had missed entirely while he was still with them? And if Mrs. Lana was right and Scooter wasn’t the one with the compass, who was? And how did Scooter end up dead in the marsh with his boat at the bottom of it?

On their drive back to the Chateau, Lottie texted Pope and Kie to meet them there as well so they could debrief what had just gone down and figure out what they were supposed to do next. 

Once everyone had arrived, they gathered on the porch, Lottie still rattled as she sat curled up on the couch sandwiched between a very confused Kie and Pope. 

JJ took the liberty to recount what had happened, talking wildly with his hands as he paced back and forth. He rounded off his speech very dramatically. “And at that point, I was just waiting for death, man,” which referred to them recognizing the men who broke into Mrs. Lana’s house and trashed the place. In his defense, the man had shot at them the day prior, so some of the dramatics were warranted, but it was still a bit much. 

“Wait,” Pope said, trying to digest everything JJ had just said. “So you saw the guys that shot at us, right?” JJ nodded. “Did you get a good description of them? What did they look like? Did you get anything we could bring to the police?” 

JJ was quiet for a beat, thinking. Despite having seen them, Lottie didn’t exactly memories what they had looked like, but she hoped JJ had. The best he came up with was ‘burly.’ 

“That’s not very helpful,” Kie sighed. 

JJ added, “They looked like the kind of guys who’d be at my dad’s garage. The kind of guys he used to make cargo hides for; drug smugglers and shit.” 

The mere mention of JJ’s dad made Lottie tense up. If she had to pick one person on the entire island, including the worst of the worst Kooks, who she hated the most, JJ’s dad took the cake. There was a long list of reasons why he was a piece of shit, and one of them was the people he hung around. The man’s “friends” were nothing but bad news and no one knew that better than JJ himself. 

“I can tell you with full confidence, these boys, these killers…” he paused, taking a long drag of a cigarette. “They’re square groupers.” 

Pope closed his eyes, probably trying to stop himself from yelling or throwing something at JJ. He sucked in a deep breath before he said, “Square groupers? As in narco square groupers? You’re saying these guys that shot at us and broke into Scooter’s house are like Pablo Escobar square groupers?” 

Blowing a puff of smoke out of his mouth and nose, JJ nodded. “Yeah man, exactly.” 

“Not everything is a Kingpin movie,” Kie said, her tone doused with annoyance. 

“What do square groupers even look like?” Pope asked. “And I mean specifically. Because clearly you don’t know what you are looking for-” 

“-I wasn’t taking mental polaroids the entire time, okay? I was under duress!” JJ said, throwing his hands up. “But I can tell you, by the way Mrs. Lana was screaming that these guys are serious hombres, okay?” 

Everyone slumped back into their seats, except for John B. who had said nothing. He held the compass in his hand, studying it for some kind of answer. 

“It’s a heavy vibe right now,” said JJ. “I’m not liking this, at all.” It was hard to argue with that. Those guys weren’t scared to shoot at them or destroy Mrs. Lana’s house, which meant there were little lengths they wouldn’t go to in order to get that compass. But they still had no idea why. 

It couldn’t have been worth much of anything; the only value it seemed to have was sentimental, but Lottie had a feeling those guys weren’t on a rampage because they had a connection to her and her family. It had to mean something else, something bigger. 

“The office,” John B. said with a small gasp. He took off inside, giving the group no choice but to follow. “Dad always kept the door locked because he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research,” he explained, approaching their dad’s office door with a copy of the key. “We used to laugh at him, as if he was ever going to find it. But since he’s been gone, we’ve just left it shut, and as he left it.”

Since their dad never bothered to share much with Lottie, she hadn’t been interested in snooping around his office either. 

“Yeah,” Kie said with a soft smile. “For when he gets back.” Pope and JJ exchanged a look that Lottie caught, but her brother didn’t. They didn’t believe he was alive or that he’d come back, and while she felt herself leaning more toward that mindset with each day that passed, she couldn’t shake the optimism John B. had; it rubbed off on her. Kie wanted to be supportive too, even if all she had was false hope for the abandoned Routledge's’ sake. 

Opening the door, the messy state of the office was revealed. They had certainly gotten their dad’s lack of tidiness. Every surface of the room was covered in papers, maps, and drawings. The books that lined the shelves were stacked in different directions without rhyme or reason and some were left opened on the floor. 

Lottie almost never ventured into the office even when their dad was around. The door was almost always shut because of his paranoia. 

John B. on the other hand, spent a lot more time inside the room and knew just what he was searching for. He pulled a corkboard from the wall that was pull of pinned-up notes and old photographs and sat it on top of the messy desk. 

“This was the original owner of the compass, Robert Q. Routledge, who was alive from 1880 to 1920,” he said, pointing to the photo at the top of the board of a man dressed in what looked to be a captain’s uniform. 

“And there it is,” Kie said, her finger hovering above the compass slightly hidden in the man’s hand. 

“Um, he was actually shot right after he bought it,” said John B. “Then the compass was shipped to Henry, who was killed in a crop dusting accident not long after he got it. After he died, it was given to Stephen. He had the compass on him when he was killed in Vietnam.” 

“Let me guess, he died in action?” asked JJ. 

“Sort of. He was killed by a banana truck in country so…not really in action. But then the compass was passed down to our dad.” At the bottom of the board was a photo of their dad when he was a little younger, standing with the twins who weren’t older than five or six. 

Lottie picked up the compass he had sat down on the desk, gazing at it with an unease. “It seems like there’s a recurring theme here.” 

“Yeah, you guys have a death compass,” Pope said. 

“We do not,” John B. tried to defend, but the history of it was far from lucky. Every single person who had owned it was dead, which didn’t bode super well for their M.I.A dad. 

JJ bumped Lottie’s shoulder and pointed to the compass. “Get rid of that thing. It’s totally cursed, and it’s made its way back to you guys.” 

John B. took the compass back and plopped down in the office chair, twisting the lid of it for a moment. He struggled for a moment until it came loose, revealing a hidden space within the lid. “He used to talk about this compartment. Apparently, soldiers used it to hide secret notes.” On the top inside of the compass’s lid, once hidden by a metal plate that slid off with ease once opened, was a word carved into the instrument. “That wasn’t there before,” he said. 

Peering over his shoulder, Lottie recognized the handwriting as their dad’s. 

“Redfield,” Kie read the carved word aloud. “What’s Redfield?” 

“Besides the most common name in the county?” said Pope, which was unhelpful but true. 

Outside, their rooster crowed loudly, pulling her attention away from the compass. She carefully walked around the piles of the things collected on the floor and peered out the window to ensure that none of the chickens were up to something nefarious; that was the last thing she needed. 

John B. continued to try to unravel the compass mystery. “Maybe it’s a clue? Maybe to where he’s hiding.” 

“A clue? Seriously-” Pope was cut off before he cleared his throat and changed his tune thanks to the glare Kie sent his way. “Uh, okay. Well, if it’s a clue, maybe it’s an anagram?” 

Lottie peered through the blinds, watching as their rooster freaked out in the yard. It was so loud that it was hard to focus, but she didn’t see any reason causing him to act that way. She was about to step away and help her friends try to crack some possible cryptic code from her dad, but the sound of gravel crunching stopped her. A truck rolled into view, parking beside the Twinkie.

“Guys,” she called out. “Somebody’s here.” 

The group rushed to the window, watching to see who exited the car. It was difficult to tell who they were until they rounded the other side of the truck but once they did, Lottie felt her heart drop into her stomach. 

Panic swelled in not only her but in JJ and John B. too as they recognized the men who they had just narrowly avoided both on the marsh and at Mrs. Lana’s. 

“I told you-” JJ started to say, but John B. grabbed him by the shoulders roughly. 

“Where is the gun, JJ?” 

“My backpack! It was in there and I…” he trailed off for a moment, thinking. “I left it on the porch. It’s on the porch.” JJ took off out of the office and tried to make it to the porch, but he was stopped by a booming voice cracking through the house like a gunshot. JJ nearly fell as he turned around and returned to the office, closing and locking the door behind him. 

The loud voice was followed by heavy footsteps and the crashing of objects. Glass was smashed against the ground things were knocked around. Each crash made Lottie flinch; they were backed into a corner with the very object the men were looking for. 

Pope and JJ tried to pull open the window, but it had been painted shut ages ago. Shaking her growing panic, Lottie frantically searched the desk for something sharp to cut the window free. A letter opener was hidden under a stack of maps. Lottie yanked it free and ran to the window, pushing the boys aside before she started cutting away at the paint. 

Footsteps neared the office door seconds before the handle was rattled by someone on the other side. Pope and John B. pressed their weight against the door, trying to buy them more time. A body slammed against the door from the other side, splintering the wood. 

After several moments, Lottie managed to cut across the windowsill and haul the window open. They all clamored out, landing on the ground as quietly as they could muster before racing across the yard just as a gunshot rattled from inside. 

Lottie felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest as she followed her friends into the nearest place to hide, the chicken coop. Blood rushed in her ears, making the world fall otherwise quiet. She pulled her knees up to her chest, sitting in the far corner of the coop. Kie slotted in beside her, reaching out and grasping her hand tightly. 

The rooster was far from happy that they were inside there. It started to crow even louder, which Lottie didn’t think was possible, threatening to give away their hiding spot to the armed men inside. 

Through the chicken wire, Lottie watched as the men walked out of their home carrying boxes from the office, all of their dad’s research running down the drain. As her brother had told their friends mere minutes ago, they used to laugh at his paranoia, as if people were really after his work, but he had been right. Only now he wasn’t there to help them, to protect them. 

“Pope,” JJ hissed from across the coop. “Shut that thing up!” 

The rooster squawked beside Pope, who looked on the verge of tears alongside the rest of them. “What am I supposed to do?!” 

Kie was already crying, squeezing Lottie’s hand as her tip trembled. “Talk to it or pet it! Something, please!” 

John B. who had been keeping an eye on the men, suddenly pulled back and pressed his back against the wall of the coop with his chest heaving. Lottie could see one of the men creeping closer to them, clearly alerted by the rooster who wouldn’t shut up. It half flew and half stumbled towards JJ, who tackled the animal to the ground. Lottie squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see any of what was about to happen. Either JJ was going to shut the rooster up or the armed man was going to find them. 

She and Kie buried their heads in each other’s shoulders, waiting with labored breaths. 

The crowing stopped suddenly, blanketing the coop in silence just before the second man called his partner away and started the truck. The group waited until the truck was nowhere in sight and probably well down the road before they crawled out of the coop, legs covered in straw and faces flushed. 

Lottie lingered, letting everyone go first as she looked at her dead rooster. Her hands shook as she wiped the tears from her cheeks and whispered out a quiet, “I’m sorry.” 

JJ waited for her at the door of the coop, kneeling with eyes misty and sorrowful. He held out his hand, gesturing for Lottie to take it. She did, letting him help her out before they followed their friends towards the van, who all were eager to get the hell out of there in fear those men would return. 

It took a while for all of them to calm down, shake some of their nerves. Out of all of the trouble they had ever gotten into, that was the closest call they’d ever had. And it had all been over some family heirloom Lottie didn’t even know about two days ago. 

John B. got his head on straight first, driving them down the quiet roads. “It’s obvious, right?” he said, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. 

Lottie wished he dropped it, at least for the rest of the day. She frowned at the scenery that passed them by, and a pain settled in her chest. As silly as it was in comparison to nearly dying herself, she already missed her rooster, Mrs. JB the third. Neither her dad nor her brother liked their rooster sharing their name, but Lottie had thought it was funny. He’d been a part of their family for almost three years, and she had been rather attached to the obnoxious little guy. 

“Name a better place to hide a secret message than a family heirloom,” John B. said. “He had to know it was gonna get back to us, right?” She shrugged, picking at the skin around her nail, which was already raw and red. 

Kie answered for everyone, a fake optimism coating her voice. “Right. I mean, it’s possible.” 

“It’s also possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help deal with your sad feelings,” Pope argued. 

“Do you know how I process my sad feelings?” JJ asked, clicking a lighter on. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of the ickies.” 

Lottie peered at him through the rearview mirror. “Did you even say any real words there?” 

He smiled, sending her a wink as he put a joint up to his lips. “Real enough, Lot. Real enough.” 

“I’m not concocting anything,” John B. said, steering the conversation back on track. “Our dad is trying to send us a message.” 

“If that helps you believe-” Kie started, but he cut her off. 

“I don’t need a therapy session! I’m not trippin’ out!” John B. looked at his sister, eyes pleading. “Can you help me out here, please? You believe it too, right? This is the exact kind of thing dad would do.” 

Would their dad think it was brilliant to send them on a treasure hunt to find him? Absolutely. If there was anything that man loved more than researching was concocting a complicated plan. And maybe she would have believed in it as much as her brother if it had happened a couple of weeks after he went missing, not almost a year later with no trace of him anywhere. If it was a plan, a treasure hunt, it seemed cruel to put that on the twins. They needed their dad, not a mission to undertake. 

“I don’t know,” she answered, honestly. “All of this is weird, but it has been nine months, John. If he was alive, the best he could do to tell us is a compass with one word inside?” 

“Unbelievable,” he grumbled, anger shining in his eyes. 

“I’m not saying it’s impossible,” she added. “I’m just saying we can’t rule anything out.” 

He was too stubborn for his own good, Lottie had known that since they were little. He didn’t like giving up or leaving things unknown. Much like their dad, John B. wanted answers to every question he had. 

“Dad is missing. Missing,” he all but glared in the review mirror at his friends. “None of you know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and then have no idea what happened to them, but we do.” 

Kie sighed softly. “It’s been almost a year.” 

“Hey, you know, he could have been kidnapped,” said JJ. He blew a puff of smoke from his lips, making Pope cough and swat the cloud away before he too chimed in. 

“He could be in a Soviet sub getting interrogated by the KGB somewhere.” 

JJ nodded. “Exactly. Or maybe he’s in Atlantis, getting freaky with some merpeople.” 

With a roll of her eyes, Kie ignored the two boys. “What do you think the message means?” 

Redfield Lighthouse was a historical site on the island, and where John B. decided the best place to start looking. It was one of their dad’s favorite places on the island. He had taken them there for their eighth birthday. Lottie recalled walking up the spiral staircase all the way to the top. You could see far and wide across Kildare from up there, from the mansions of Figure Eight to the sprawling woodland of the Cut. 

Due to the storm, the lighthouse was technically closed to the public, but that didn’t shake John B.’s confidence about finding a way inside. He parked the van off to the side of the driveway before deciding the best plan was to split up. He and Kie would go inside and look for an answer of some kind, the other three stood watch in case anyone showed up. 

As they waited in the warm sun, Pope and JJ bickered about something while Lottie scouted the road for any sign of trouble, half listening to the boys. 

Pope was worried about his Merit Scholarship being at stake if they got in trouble, and JJ acted like he didn’t care, which was bullshit. JJ had a tendency to do that with most things, pretend he was too cool or careless to give a shit, but he gave himself away every time. He actually cared, a lot, more than most probably. Lottie wasn’t sure why he did that; maybe he was embarrassed to care that much. Whatever the reason was, she could always spot it in his bright blue eyes. Despite Pope’s worries, JJ would likely do anything to ensure that nothing screwed up his friend’s chance of getting the scholarship and leaving them for some fancy college. 

After they were done, JJ slunk over to Lottie, kicking a hacky sack to keep himself occupied. 

“Having fun?” she asked, teasing him slightly. 

The hacky sack fell into the dirt as he missed it. “I was until you killed my focus.” 

“You’re the one who walked over here.” 

“Whatever,” he said, rolling his eyes playfully. They stood in silence for a moment, the only noise being the distant chirp of birds and the light rustling of the leaves shading them. JJ kept his gaze ahead of him as he decided to break the silence with, “Sorry about the bird.” 

She sighed, slumping her shoulders to match her rather downturned attitude. “Better him than us, I guess,” she said. “I’m gonna miss him, though. Who else is gonna wake me up at six in the morning?” 

“You could set an alarm, like a normal person,” he rebutted. 

“It’s not the same.” Their dad had bought the rooster and chickens in an attempt to ‘rely less on the man,’ but most of the time he’d forget to feed them or collect the eggs, which caused the job to fall onto herself or John B. She never minded it, though. 

JJ shifted his gaze onto her, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Well, if this compass thing somehow leads to some stupid amount of cash, I’ll buy you a new rooster, ‘kay? Mr. JB the fourth.” 

Lottie cracked a smile. “I’m gonna hold you to it.” 

He held up three fingers. “Scouts honor.” 

A laugh fell from her lips as she nearly doubled over. “Since when are you a Girl Scout?” 

“Aw, shit-” The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the distant wail of police sirens. 

“Shit!” Pope cursed, running toward them. “We gotta go!” He and JJ took off toward the Twinkie, but Lottie hesitated, waiting to see if Kie and John B. were close enough for them to wait to take off. But there was no sign of the two anywhere, meaning they were still inside the lighthouse. Before they split up, they agreed to meet up at the Chateau if things went south, mostly for Pope’s sake. 

She joined the two boys in the van before they sped away, voiding the trouble heading right for the two Pogues left behind.

[lizardsfromspace]

Hello and welcome to the new semester at the Borley College of Demonology, Parapsychology, and Entity Studies underneath Cleveland Community College. Reminder to check the updated list of entrances; the tunnel behind the LeBron James poster by the Dreams Come True Student Loan Repayment Center is no longer active, as the janitors tore it down when someone splashed Starry Zero Sugar on it

Here are some "fun" reminders 2 know as a new student at our proud college!

You may be tempted to assume all entities can simply be exorcised. First of all, Father O'Malley has retired, and we are currently waiting on the Vatican to find anyone willing to go to Cleveland (I believe they are currently asking every Catholic in Palau). Second of all, that only works on Catholic entities. Always match the entity to the expert. Pazuzu? Call the ancient civilizations department. Banshee? Talk to Erin - you can find her at Celtic dance class, Tuesdays and Thursdays at 6:30. Dybbuk? Go to Hillel and see who's in (our campus rabbi is currently leading an advanced clay sculpting class outside Whitefish, Montana)

Look at your fellow students. Look to your left. Look to your right. Look into your classmate's eyes. Count them. Count again. Immediately retreat and start warding just in case. Anyway, you may have heard that one out of every three students makes a mistake on their first summoning test and is "dragged screaming by demons into the depths of Hell in front of the class". This is inaccurate. They're not demons, they are chaos entities; they're not from Hell, but instead a dimension of pure chaos; and we have it on good authority some people are freaks who like that. You may have also heard that everyone dragged off into an eternity of terror in the fear dimension gets an F. This is correct.

You may also have heard that students dragged to a dimension of infinite terror have their student loans forgiven, in case they return. This is incorrect.

While we celebrate all manners of entity at Borley College, we must reiterate that at no time are current or former members of the Mormon faith allowed on campus. If you witness anything identifying itself as the "Angel Moroni", please, hit the closest red bell immediately. This will initiate a lockdown and activate the Seelenzerstörer Icon buried at a undisclosed site on campus. Please spend your remaining moments before the unmaking reflecting on all the friends you made during your exciting years at Borley College, especially the ones you made yourself!

[dcggersedge]

[ DROP ] exasperated (or maybe just exhausted) the sender drops down into the receiver's lap to rest.

Slam of door preceded clicking lock with a heavy, liberating sigh to succeed them - a timeless sound of release dredged up from the very core. Long and tiresome the working day, this dragon could only anticipate a more merciful night spent swaddled in fine silk sheets. weariness owed to mind and body melting away with the soft tomb of his choosing and the rest exacted within it. True sepulchers, however, were devoid of noise and extraneous presence, deemed inviting only to one's own weary bones. In that stead, to call his lair a crypt would not be entirely accurate.

One gander at the bed and the woman relaxing across it, the familiarity of her crimson hair as well as its myriad starry attachments, disclosed to Rafal that alone he was not. That quiet this precious sanctuary would not remain. "You again. Have you no better places to be than a room not your own? Had I known no better, I would be led to think that you possess neither penny nor principle to your name."

Without gazing in Yunaka's direction, he expelled an exasperated breath and shrugged off his white jacket to splay over the back of a chair; bright and blinding in the darkness, even if subsidiary in glow to the five concentrated examples worn on his hands. Those golden rings came off next—clink, clink, clink, cli-clink—landing upon the desk like a spray of coins until cacophony ceased in their wake. Left dress shoe buckled next, then right shoe, isolated noises with the count of individual heartbeats in-between them. Both shoes off. At last Rafal turned to the one who had not yet left. . .or escaped.

Mattress dipped inwards with the introduction of new weight, dragon joining human in the haphazard arrangement of limbs and reservations. Straightforward trajectory landed his head at the plush doorstep of her lap, neck and skull cradled across the pillow newly chosen for his own. Unexpectedly plush, rose both the unbidden and unspoken thought. And now the territory he has claimed.

"Still here? Foolish on far too many fronts." A quiet and unthinking murmur thrust forward without true vitriol, or second thought. Sharp red glare nowhere seen; Rafal's eyes were already closed. "I will have you know that I shall not be taking leave of my own quarters. So if you wish to extricate yourself from my claws. . .now is the time."

victory lap | accepting!

Yunaka glances up from the book she's stolen off of Rafal's bookshelf. She kept a finger hooked carefully between the pages, ensuring that she didn't lose his spot as she read through it absently. It had been something to do while she waited, she wasn't particularly invested in what the book had to say.

The silence had gotten too loud again. The time passed, and shadows crept along the floor in a way that reminded her of old ghosts sneaking through darkened alleys and halls. Too much time alone, and she always started to get antsy, old habits creeping back in. Rafal's room had been quiet, but different enough from hers that it kept her mind distracted.

It's easier when there's a light at the end of the tunnel.

She can't say any of that, of course. She doesn't need to with him, another one in the list of things that pass between them both without needing acknowledgement. But she can't say it, because the stars know he doesn't need any more ideas inflating his bizarrely mangled ego.

She grins instead, returning the book to the page he'd stopped on and placing it down to the side. "I'll have you know I came into a whole windfall of pennies, recently." She settles back into the bed with zero intention of moving while he removes his coat. "I think, just looking at riches, I might be more of a lord than you now."

Wouldn't that be a fun game to play?

For all his grumbling, he joins her just like she thought he would. Yunaka laughs softly. "Says the fool who can't even relax properly. Hang on, hold still." Deft fingers move carefully, lifting his head and neck just enough to slide the accessories free from his hair. They join his book off to the side before her fingers return to his hair again, brushing through and rubbing at the scalp where they sat all day. "Better?"

After a moment, she lowers his head back to her lap. She continues to brush her fingers through his hair, lightly dragging nails across scalp in passing. Your claws seem pretty put away for someone making threats. She sighs dramatically instead. "Oh no...trapped forever...should've taken my stars out first..." She laments falsely as she settles in more firmly into the pillows of his bed.

Though the crypt may be crowded, the sanctuary stays quiet.

[mxmollusca]

Starry Eyes and Counting Down to Zero should be in the library of congress and i do not say that lightly

I don't know how to take regular compliments, how am I supposed to respond to this 😅💚

[seanfalco]

DARREN TREACY + LOSS OF VIRGINITY.

† word count: 1.2k † tags/warnings: Darren x f!reader, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, fingering (f!receiving), dubcon - both reader and Darren have been drinking, reader is younger than Darren (implied she’s just turned of age) † a/n: this one’s for you @sotcher0jeax​ ;p

[ kinktober masterlist ]

“Mmm, you taste like whiskey,” you giggled, drawing Darren’s bottom lip between your teeth and sucking, your fingers tightening around the lapels of his jacket.  Groaning under his breath Darren reluctantly broke the kiss, leaning back against the bar to look at you—starry eyed and more than a little tipsy.

“Dazza–!” you whined, chasing his lips as he pulled away, only to lose your balance and fall against his chest.

“Careful there, love,” he murmured, his hands going to your waist to steady you.

“Let’s get outta here,” you begged, your voice slurring as your hands slid down his chest.

“I should get yeh home,” he countered instead, catching your wrist.  “It’s gettin’ late–”

His words cut off abruptly as your other hand found its destination, and you palmed him through his loose jeans, feeling him stiffen at your touch.

“I don’t have a curfew any longer,” you pointed out coyly, massaging him a moment longer before pulling your hand away, watching his eyes dilate with want.

“You’re too young for me,” he argued, desperately trying to hold out.  “Plus, you’re drunk–”

“So’re you,” you countered, zeroing in, going for the kill.  “And it’s not like you’re that much older than me, Darren Treacy.  Don’t deny that you want me, that you’ve been thinkin’ about fuckin’ me.”

He opened his mouth, searching for another excuse he didn’t really want to make. 

“‘Sides, it’s my birthday,” you purred, and Darren’s breath hitched as you leaned in to whisper in his ear.  “I wanna lose my virginity tonight.  Will y’help me with that?”

——

Stumbling into Darren’s bed, he fell with you, kissing you deeply as you pawed at his clothes, wanting to feel his warm skin against yours.

Rearing back to oblige your impatience, he ripped his shirt over his head and you bit your lip as you let your eyes explore his bare chest.  He didn’t give you long to admire, however, before his mouth was once more on yours, kissing you deeper as his hands mapped your body, undressing you hastily.

Once you were down to your knickers, Darren pulled back once more to catch his breath and you stretched beneath him tantalizingly, resting your hands back just above your head, wanting him to look.

“Y’sure about this?” he asked, his adam’s apple bobbing in the darkness.

“I’m sure,” you breathed, holding his gaze.  You’d wanted him ever since you’d laid eyes on him.  You’d fantasized about this every time you’d touched yourself.  “I want yeh so bad, Darren.”

Groaning softly at your words, he slipped his fingers beneath the sides of your panties and eased them down your legs.  “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed and the awe in his voice made your heart skip a beat.

“Has anyone… touched you before?” he asked, his hands hovering over your bare skin and you shook your head.

“Not like this.”

Darren’s tongue darted across his lips before he bit down, stifling a moan.  Circling your waist with his callused hands, his thumbs rubbed circles into your skin before his palms slid higher, cupping your breasts reverantly before leaning over to press his lips above your heart, trailing them across your chest as he fondled you, coaxing your nipples to stiff peaks.

Each caress, each feverish flick of his tongue sent heat pooling low in your gut until you could feel your wetness coating the insides of your thighs.  When Darren slipped a finger inside you, delving your slick folds, you gasped, clenching tightly around his long digit.

“Relax, love,” he breathed, pushing past your tight ring of muscles to curl inside you, prodding at your spongy g-spot.  “I don’t wanna hurt yeh.”

“You’re not.  Please, more.”

Your assurance brought a second finger, stretching your cunt gently, prepping you for his cock.  While his fingers felt good, you wanted more, you wanted to feel filled by him, overwhelmed with new sensations, and though you squirmed impatiently, Darren didn’t stop.  As if reading your thoughts, he silenced your half formulated protest with a kiss.

“I wanna make sure you’re ready for me.  Just lay back and enjoy yourself.  I promise I’ll have y’screamin’ my name soon enough, darlin’.”

Placated by his response, a shiver running through you, you let out a long breath and slipped your arms around his neck, pulling him back to your mouth as his fingers pumped in and out of you, scissoring and curling.

The feel of his bare chest against yours was soothing and you lost yourself in his heated kisses, struggling to catch your breath as his tongue explored your mouth.  When his fingers suddenly disappeared, you clenched around air for a moment, your walls fluttering helplessly before Darren readjusted his position, spreading your legs wider and gripping the base of his cock.

When you felt his tip tease your folds and press into you, you gasped; you didn’t think you could be turned on any more than you already were, but suddenly your cunt throbbed with a need you’d never felt before.

“If it hurts, I’ll stop,” Darren breathed, grunting softly as he slowly slid into you, filling your virgin cunt for the first time.  A whine caught in your throat at the burn of the stretch and you were glad he’d insisted on prepping you.

“Alright?” Darren asked, slowing, and you nodded.

“Keep going, I wanna take all of you.”

Darren snorted softly in amusement.  “Even on your back, you’re a willful one.”

“Oh, I’ll show you willful,” you huffed, lifting your chin defiantly, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the whimper that left your lips when he bottomed out.

For a moment he didn’t move, letting you adjust and you let out a shuddering breath, pressing your face to his chest.  “I’m ready,” you whispered and Darren began to move, setting a gentle pace until you begged for more.

Smirking at your desperate pleas, he readjusted himself, putting all his weight on one arm as he continued to thrust into you, slow and steady, each rolling movement bringing a moan to your lips.

When he pressed his fingers to your lips, you opened your mouth obediently, sucking on them before he pulled them free.  “Good girl,” he groaned, reaching between you to circle your clit with the pads of his slick fingers, using your saliva as lube.  The added sensation had you cumming almost instantly, overwhelming your brain, and your whole body tensed as you let out a cry, unable to hold back.

Hazy and completely spent, you barely registered when Darren pulled out to cum against your stomach, his chest heaving against yours.  

“How d’yeh feel?’ he asked, wiping you down and pulling you into his arms.

“Amazin’,” you breathed, grinning into his chest.  “That was probably the best birthday gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Darren chuckled.  “Good.  I wanted t’make your first time special.”

“I think any time with you’d be special,” you murmured, moaning softly as you shifted, feeling an ache deep inside.  You knew you’d probably still be sore come tomorrow, but you were glad for the reminder.

“Is that your way of sayin’ you don’t want this t’be a one time thing?” Darren mused, tilting his head to look you in the eye.

“Maybe,” you replied coyly, bringing a grin to his face before he ran his hands down your sides, his fingers attacking your most ticklish spots until you had tears in your eyes.  ��Yes!” you finally shrieked and Darren abated, pleased with your answer.

“Good.”

“I thought I was too young for you, Darren Treacy,” you teased.

“Not anymore, love.”

taglist: @super-unpredictable98​ @salvador-daley​​ @firstpersonnarrator​​ @vonkimmeren​​ @love-is-dirty-baby

[iibonniee]

[1:35 a.m] (Doh Kyungsoo drabble)

It’s 1:35 in the morning, and the want in sleep finds itself being at zero. This forces Y/N to leave her bed and enjoy a nice cup of warm tea under the stars.

Word Count: 585

Masterlist

If she had to put a dollar into a jar for each night were tossing and turning seemed to be better than sleep, she’d have to throw the covers off and put a dollar into that jar. Unfortunately for her, she found herself in an unfortunate situation.

The warmth from her dear boyfriend that usually brought her comfort and helped lull her to sleep did nothing of the sort this time. As she laid there eyes glued to the ceiling, she could only realize how awake she was.

Turning on her side allowed her to come face to face with him. For some time, she allowed herself to study his features, how he looked more at peace when he was asleep. Like the world didn't matter. It made her smile to herself. So innocent, not a single thing seemed to disturb him.

She knew the longer she stayed in bed the higher the chance was in waking him up. Slipping out of bed carefully, she slowly removed the limp arm that was around her waist. She glanced back at him to make sure such action didn't wake him but upon hearing the soft snore that emitted from him gave her the answer she wanted. She smiled to herself and made her way over to the closet that was in their bedroom, grabbing a blanket and wrapped it around herself.

After making her way downstairs she walked into the kitchen and quickly made some tea for herself. She grabbed the warm cup and made her way to the balcony. Sliding the door open, she slipped onto the balcony and made her way over to the swinging bench that was tucked away in the corner.

She sat down, adjusting the blanket around her, mug firm in her hands keeping her fingers warm. The breeze that greeted the calming air was bearable for the late night. But that wasn’t going to be her focus. What she wanted to do was stare up at the beautiful dark starry night.

And that’s what she did.

A smile found its way onto her face as she took a sip of her drink. The commotion coming from the night owls down below was silent and calming. Cars that passed by her building remained silent, almost wanting to be unheard. The situation was perfect. A perfect night to stargaze.

"Another sleepless night huh?" A husky voice asked from beside her. Sleep was laced within his voice, and when she went to meet his gaze, a smile was held for her as he sat beside her joining her under the soft covers. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"I didn't want to, you looked so peaceful." She told him. She knew her excuse wasn't good enough. He had told her countless times to wake him up if she had a sleepless night. Tonight, amongst the many others, she found herself not able to take him from his sleep.

"You look beautiful in the moonlight." He mumbled to her, kissing her forehead lovingly. "Just know you can wake me up at any point, even if I'm gonna be busy the next day I'll make it work. You're more important than sleep, you're worth every second of my time."

She tore her gaze to glance back up at the starry sky, a smile still on her face as she took in each of his words.

"How about we go inside, I don't want you catching a cold." He suggested, hoping for an answer.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

[babymetaldoll]

Stargazing (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: No, but I needed some hardcore fluff

Summary: The team is “forced” to go camping, and Spencer finally decides to make “his move” on Reader.

Pairing: Spencer Reid/ Reader

Category: Hardcore fluff

Warnings: Zero

Word count: 3,2K

Masterlist

-

-

It was the first time the BAU didn't argue Strauss's decision. She had walked into the conference room and explained to the team that the FBI had decided each department had to do a workshop related to teamwork and trust.

- "You will spend this weekend camping together. You will be part of a Team-Building Training Workshop"- Strauss wasn't excited about the idea of her best team wasting a whole weekend. But she was glad her department didn't have to do the activity. She hated camping.

- "Are you telling me we have to spend our weekend in sleeping bags, singing kumbaya?"- Rossi raised an eyebrow and looked at Erin, and she didn't move a muscle- "I'm out."

- "David, I'm not asking you if you want to do it. The whole team has to be part of this activity, that includes you."

- "Come on, Rossi,"- Prentiss smiled and tried to cheer him up- "It will be a nice change from catching serial killers for a weekend.

- "Really, Emily?"- Rossi crossed his arms on his chest and looked at Reid- "Hey, kid. How many dead bodies are found each year in the woods in the country?"

- "Over 2.543 last year,"- Spencer answered. And didn't stop talking, of course- "We can not be sure they were all serial killer related cases. The most common ways to die in the woods are drowning, car accident, and suicide."

- "Suicide it is."- David whispered. He knew it was going to be a long weekend.

Even when he wasn't a person who loved camping and outdoor activities, Spencer was excited to spend the weekend with the team, especially with (Y/N). His teammate, best friend, and secret crush. Ok, it wasn't really a secret.

Of course, everybody knew about Spencer's feelings. He never successfully hid them from the team. You didn't need to be a profiler to notice each time (Y/N) walked into a room, Reid's eyes would follow her, and his cheeks blushed. When they sat together in the jet, Spencer would always be too self-aware of his own movements. He would try not to move, especially when she had fallen asleep, resting her head on his shoulder. And when they were working on a case together, he would always cover her on the field, and he would make sure she was safe, even when the unsub was already caught.

He loved her. Even a blind man could see. Except for (Y/N), of course. Because according to her own words: "There's no way Spencer Reid is in love with me. He would never look at me that way. He is perfect, and I'm a mess. He deserves the perfect genius girl."

-

- "Ok, Romeo, this weekend is the perfect opportunity for you to make your move"- Derek and Reid were alone in the SUV on their way to the retreat.

- "Sure. Because there's no better time to make a fool out of myself than in front of all my friends in the middle of nowhere."

- "What's with the attitude, pretty Ricky? Relax"- Morgan frowned and put on some music, singing along for a moment. Reid looked at him and raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

- "Ok man, picture this: you, your pretty lady, in the middle of the night, gazing at the stars together, alone in the middle of the forest. The full moon is the only light."

- "Who are you? since when are you a romance expert?"

- "Hey! I can be romantic!"

- "I've seen you get girls only by raising an eyebrow"- Reid argued, and he was right. It had happened once, but that was another completely different story.

- "What I'm trying to tell you is that you have the perfect chance to tell her how you feel during this trip"- Spencer was about to start debating that idea when Derek continued.

- "And stop saying she has no feeling for you!"

Reid bit his tongue and looked at the road. Neither of them said a word for the next couple of minutes. Until Spencer whispered

- "But she doesn't"

- "She does!!"- Derek nearly yelled

- "Why are you so sure?!"

- "Because she told Penelope she is in love with you!!"

The silence in the car was as intense as the red in Spencer's cheeks. Derek knew he shouldn't have said that, but he was tired of seeing his best friend's sad eyes each time he stared at (Y/N). Someone had to do something, and he knew neither of them would make the first move.

- "Are you sure?"- Reid's mouth was hanging open- "I mean, maybe she was joking."

- "No, she was honest. So please, this weekend, make your freaking move."

-

How could Spencer ever make his move? He had no idea. He didn't even have a "move"! But something inside of him felt a little more confident now.

That didn't show on the outside at all, 'cos during the whole day, he was more clumsy than ever. He dropped his coffee. He failed the first two attempts to set up his tent and nearly fell carrying logs for the fire.

He wanted to dig a hole and hid.

But (Y/N) didn't notice any of that. Not because she didn't pay attention, but because she was oblivious to any of those things. She just couldn't stop staring: He was wearing jeans. Spencer Walter Reid was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. (Y/N) thought she was going to have a heart attack when he got out of the car.

Sure, yes, she had seen him outside work in a more casual outfit, but nothing prepared her for Spencer's camping clothing. It suited him too well for his own good.

- "Hello? Anybody there?"- Prentiss waved at (Y/N). She and JJ stood in front of her, trying to catch her attention.

- "Jesus! you look like a schoolgirl today!"- JJ teased her, laughing- "Can you be more obvious?"

- "What are you talking about?"- (Y/N) tried to look all innocent and continued setting the logs for the campfire.

- "If Spencer wasn't so clueless about your feelings, I swear you two would be already married,"- Emily joked and helped (Y/N) with the logs. The young SSA just shook her head and tried to keep her eyes from Reid for as long as she could. She successfully did it for five minutes. That day's record.

- "(Y/N), hey"- he stood by her side, and she quickly stood up.

- "Hey, how are you doing?"

- "Good... you?"- she just nodded and smiled. She really was acting like a schoolgirl in front of Spencer- "Great... hey, I thought maybe tonight you would like to do some stargazing with me..."- Emily and JJ heard him and nearly squealed. They tried to look away, but it was impossible. They needed to know what was happening. Where was García? she was going to be so mad she missed that.

- "Yeah! I'm sure tonight we can see way more stars than on your building's roof like last time."

(Y/N) answered, smiling, thinking there was nothing more romantic than being underneath a starry sky, listening to Spencer talking about constellations.

- "Ok, kids,"- Rossi's voice stepping out of his huge camper interrupted them and forced everybody to turn around- "Let's do this trust thing we are forced to do before it's lunchtime. Maybe we can manage to go home early."

-

Of course, they weren't. The whole team had to work as a unit to fulfill a series of activities an expert team the FBI had hired forced them to do. Aaron thought it was unnecessary, considering they worked on the field together, and they trusted each other with their lives all the time. But he was also sure his team needed a break, and everybody could use some fresh air.

- "Great work, team"- Hotch hugged everybody and smiled when the whole activity was done- "I think we've earned a nice dinner."

- "Please don't tell me we have to hunt our food"- Penelope wide opened her eyes suddenly and looked at Hotch- "I can eat blueberries."

- "Don't worry, kids"- Rossi shook his head and pointed to his camper- "Anyone in the mood for a nice steak?"

- "I bought marshmallows for the campfire later,"- (Y/N) said and smiled- "You are never too old for some s'more."

- "Scary stories by the fire eating s'mores? I'm ten years old again"- JJ looked excited- "I need to do this with Henry."

- "Just don't tell him your "I'm scared of the woods because I found the camp director dead" story." - Derek said, smiling.

- "You freaked out!"- JJ chuckled, remembering how she had scared her friends a few years earlier while working on a case in the woods.

- "I need to hear that story!"- Emily said- "I bet it's no better than mine, I'm sure."

- "Battle of horror stories?"- (Y/N) smiled evilly- "You two have nothing on me."

-

The evening was fun and a little terrifying. Garcia was holding Derek's arm so tight it was starting to feel numb. Rossi and Hotch had told a couple of stories that left the team completely frightened, to be fair. Especially Spencer. He had forgotten an essential part of his plan: nights in the woods are dark as pitch. And he was afraid of the dark. How would he successfully take (Y/N) to a nice spot, sit down and stare at the stars with her if he was too scared to move from the fire?

(Y/N) looked at Reid and sighed. Maybe he had regretted it. Of course, he hasn't forgotten his invitation, 'cos Spencer remembered everything. Still, he hadn't made any move or sign to go stargazing. Being alone with him in the dark was scary but in the right way. Maybe she could finally tell him how she felt. No, no way. That wasn't going to happen.

- "Ok, so... it's late, and we are out of wine"- Rossi stood up and looked at the team- "I am ready to go to my comfy bed"- the rest of the team groaned. They were going to spend the night in a tent, probably freezing, while Rossi was going to be in his warm camper.

- "I'm going to sleep too, we have trekking in the morning, and it's going to be a long walk. I suggest you all go to bed early."- Hotch stood up and waved at the team, to then walk to his tent."

- "Sweet chocolate thunder, is there room in your tent for me?"- Penelope asked, and he chuckled immediately

- "Are you still scared of the stories? they are just made up things people create to terrify us."

- "I know. But I'm also scared of bears, psycho killers, and slender man"- Morgan looked at her, raising an eyebrow. She wasn't joking.

- "Bring your sleeping bag."

- "You are my hero. I love you."

Prentiss and JJ went to bed soon after, leaving the two love birds alone.

- "Stargazing?"- Reid whispered, and (Y/N) nodded- "We should find a darker stop... or we can stay here by the fire if you like."

- "Are we going to get a nice view here?"- (Y/N) looked at the stars and tried to see anything.

- "No, it has to be darker,"- Spencer whispered, taking a look around- "There was a nice spot by the cliff, that way."

- "I don't think walking to a cliff in the middle of the night is a good idea"- (Y/N) smiled, and Reid shook his head

- "You are right..."

- "But we can walk carefully and carry a flashlight,"- she added and smiled, looking at him. His brown curls moved with the wind, and his chocolate eyes were brighter than the sparks of fire next to them.

- "That sounds good."

Spencer stood still for a second. He had a blanket in one hand and a bag of marshmallows in the other. (Y/N) put on her scarf and jacket and stared at him.

- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah."

He wasn't. He was trying to calm himself down, thinking that walking in the middle of the dark was worthy because it meant spending time alone with (Y/N).

He kept telling himself he didn't have to worry because nothing was going to happen. He wished he had his gun with him in case of any danger, though. Maybe that could make him feel better.

- "You can't kill darkness, stupid"- he whispered to himself and sighed. (Y/N) walked a step closer and took the marshmallow bag. Then, she held his hand.

- "Let's go?"

That was all Spencer needed. He was ready.

- "Did you know astronomy is the oldest of the sciences?- Reid whispered as they walked hand in hand to a nice clear spot - "Ancient astronomers were able to differentiate between stars and planets, as stars remain relatively fixed over the centuries while planets will move an appreciable amount during a comparatively short time."

- "And when did you start learning about the stars?"- Spencer loved that. How each time he started rambling, she wouldn't get annoyed like the rest of the people he knew. Instead, she would always ask him something related to the subject. And it was usually something personal. She wanted to learn more about him and how he had ended up being such an amazing human being.

- "When I was four, mom started taking me regularly to the library. That was when I started to learn more about science. I could pick ten books each time we were there, and I decided I wanted to know everything I could about everything I loved."

Spencer confessed and smiled, looking at her. His heart was warm with their conversations. He was never comfortable talking about his personal life, especially about his childhood. But with (Y/N), it all came naturally.

- "How often did she take you?"

- "Every other day"- she chuckled and remembered the pictures Diana had shown her of Spencer when he was a little kid last time they visited her. He was adorable, with his glasses and his messy hair. It was impossible not to imagine having a family with him.

- "This is it... this is a good spot."- Spencer said and stopped walking. He moved a log and tapped on it, smiling at (Y/N). She sat with him, and he wrapped them together with the blanket.

- "So, what am I staring at?"- (Y/N) asked and kept her eyes on the starry sky. It seemed she had never seen so many stars. And they even looked closer. Spencer looked at her, and his heart skipped a beat. He was about to start a lecture on astronomy, but instead, he decided to do "his move." Or the move he could think of. He didn't really know if it was a move, but he was going to give it a shot anyway.

- "Most stargazers learn about constellations looking for different noticeable patterns across the sky"- he made a pause clearing his throat. That was it. He was going to do it.

- "That's how it all started,"- he continued- "Some of these noticeable patterns up there are still the same ones our ancestors noticed while sitting around a campfire telling stories like we did today."

- "Telling stories about the stars sounds a lot less creepy, though" - (Y/N) whispered, and the two of them smiled- "Wanna tell me a story about these stars?"

There was no way Spencer could say not to her puppy eyes.

- "Ok... let's see..."- Reid sighed and thought for a moment, looking at the constellations above them- "Do you see those stars over there that look like a cute bunny?"

- "Which ones?"- Spencer pointed at the sky, and (Y/N) nodded- "I see them"

- "Well, you'll see, there was a comet in love with the bunny, but it could only look at her from a safe distance."- Spencer finally confessed. (Y/N) held her breath for a second and tried not to get her hopes high.

- "Why?"

- "Well, the comet was afraid he wasn't good enough for the bunny"- Spencer was whispering, and his soft voice sent shivers to (Y/N)'s body- "So he stared at his favorite constellation every day and only imagined what it would feel like to hold her in his arms."

- "And the bunny never saw the comet?"- (Y/N) asked softly, while very, very slowly, she moved her hand and reached Spencer's.

- "The bunny thought the comet just wanted to be her friend because he was scared to tell her how he felt,"

(Y/N) kept thinking there was no way on earth Spencer was telling her how he felt about her with that adorable story. Was he? Really? 'cos it was too romantic, and if he wasn't and she was wrong... it would be heartbreaking. But, there was only one way to find out.

- "I think the bunny felt the same, but she thought she wasn't good enough for the comet"- Spencer's heart raced at those words, and he turned to look at (Y/N). She blushed and stared at him with a shy smile.

- "Why would the bunny ever think that?"

- "The comet is too brilliant and too amazing to settle for a simple constellation when he could have the sun."

(Y/N) was embarrassed to confess those feelings, but it was now or never.

- "But the bunny is the sun in the comet's life."- Spencer whispered and caressed her cheek with his thumb carefully.

- "Really?"- her voice was so soft, it melted Spencer completely. He couldn't answer. All he could do was to lean in slowly and kissed her as gently as he could, enjoying the sensation of her lips against his. He cupped her face with both hands and moved a little closer.

It was the sweetest kiss he had ever given. It wasn't just because (Y/N)'s lips tasted like marshmallow, but because it was filled with pure love. He could feel it, even when he still couldn't believe it. She loved him. She really did.

(Y/N) was sure that wasn't really happening. She had probably fallen down the cliff earlier and was now unconscious or dead, living a fantasy. There was no way Spencer Reid was kissing her.

When they slowly moved and looked at each other, neither of them knew what to say. So (Y/N) did what she always dreamed of doing and leaned in and kissed him again. Spencer didn't hesitate and wrapped his arms around her waist, moving her closer to him. Her hands played shyly with some of the curls of his hair, and they simply kissed for what seemed to be forever, even when it wasn't enough time for them. Spencer felt he could kiss her his whole life, and he still wouldn't get enough of her.

- "So..."- (Y/N) whispered after some minutes and looked at Spencer, blushing- "Do you think the comet and the bunny could... maybe try to be more than friends?"

He smiled and kissed her again, rubbing her lips carefully with his; (Y/N) sighed into the kiss.

- "The comet is willing to do anything the bunny asks him because he just wants to make her happy all day, every day."

(Y/N) couldn't speak. She could only kiss him again and again.

- "Bunny just wants her comet to be happy too."

- "Then would Bunny be the comet's girlfriend?"- she giggled and nodded- "Good, because I don't think I could ever live without your kisses ever again, Bunny."

- "Neither do I, Comet"

And after that, stargazing was forgotten. There were enough stars in their kisses to keep the two of them lost in their own new universe. 

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

This story takes place during the summer of 1987. It's the time of the Cold War, and heavy metal, and Just Say No.

Ten chapters, each with a specific song as its soundtrack.

I'm so excited to finally share it with you.

----

Chapter 1: Starry Eyes

Soundtrack: "Starry Eyes," Mötley Crüe, 1981 [click here to listen]

It was quiet here in the mountains.

Claire Beauchamp drew in a long, shaky breath of clear, crisp air, and tucked her legs up onto the seat of the Adirondack chair. Watching the sun set over the valley.

Gripping the arm of the chair with shaky hands.

Behind her on the deck, a dozen or so strangers – men and women – shuffled into their own chairs, or to square tables with board games under one arm. Chatter wafted through the door that led into The Ridge’s main building.

The brochure that Joe Abernathy had pressed into her hands, sitting in the back seat of his Jaguar sedan while his wife Gail drove them to the airport, described The Ridge as a residential treatment facility. Her mind was still reeling from the intervention, and that Gail had already packed her a duffel bag stuffed with essentials – it had all been so seamless.

There were many things Claire had wanted to block out in the two years since she’d left Frank and everything had fallen apart. Many things she had shut out from the world around her, paralyzed by pain. But she hadn’t lost all of her faculties quite yet.

Because no matter what The Ridge called itself, no matter how beautiful the landscaping of its grounds, or the plush cushions on the chairs, or the gourmet meals prepared by the in-house chef (herself five years in recovery, or so the brochure proudly proclaimed), there was no hiding what it really was.

Rehab.

Claire was there because she was an addict.

And she would stay there until she had unfucked her life.

“Excuse me?”

She turned to see a tall man, red hair down to his shoulders, colorful tattoos covering every inch of his arms and disappearing beneath the sleeves of a well-fitted black t-shirt.

“May I sit next to you?”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He flopped down into the chair, crossed his long legs, and lay both palms on the armrests, thumbs tapping a quick beat.

“First day?”

It had been forty six hours since her last fix, and pain sliced her skull. She hadn’t gone this long without in more than a year. “Yes,” she murmured.

Now his fingers joined in the tapping. “Thought so. The new ones always come in the middle of the day – that’s why Group is always in the afternoons. So we can have our individual sessions in the morning, and meet all together in the afternoon. It helps to stick to a schedule.”

She turned in the chair to look at him. He wasn’t looking at her – just gazing straight ahead – but he kept talking. “Anyway, it’ll just be a few minutes until dinner. I hope you like Mexican – they take Taco Tuesdays pretty seriously around here.”

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name. I know we introduced ourselves at Group, but it’s all just a blur.”

He turned to face her, and she could hear his smile. “Don’t worry about it. You’re Claire – pills addict. That’s what you told us, anyway.”

“It’s true.”

“Well then.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Jamie – I’m an alcoholic. Bourbon, mostly. And a little bit of cocaine, now and again.”

She gripped his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m a sex addict, too,” he added. “John – my therapist here – he said that the more honest I am, the better it will be for me later on.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” she said, not quite sure what else to say.

“I’ve hurt a lot of people by not being honest, and by drinking, and not being honest about my drinking.” He folded his hands in his lap. Lallybroch read one tattoo inching up his left arm, and Ellen read another. “I’m on the tenth step. I’ve learned a lot so far.”

Claire stared down at her own hands – bare, except for her mother’s silver wedding band, which Uncle Lamb had given her when she was twelve. “Well, if we’re going for honesty – I’m a trauma surgeon, at one of the top hospitals in Boston. My asshole ex-husband used to hit me, and I prescribed myself some ludes to deaden everything. I wrote out the scripts to him, then took them to the pharmacy myself.” She pursed her lips, feeling his eyes on her. “I thought I had it under control – I thought that nobody noticed. Until I showed up high one day, and made a stupid mistake, and almost killed a patient.”

He was strangely quiet – and after silently counting to twenty, Claire looked up at him. He was still tapping his fingers against the armrest of the chair, though in a more structured, organized rhythm. Nodding his head. Thinking.

“It was my best friend who got me here,” he said softly. “I’ve known him since we were kids – he even married my sister. He saw what I was doing to myself, how much I was hurting her, and hurting the thing that he and I had worked so hard to build.” A spray of black and white stars flexed above his elbow. “Who got you here?”

“My best friend. We went to medical school together – he was my man of honor at my wedding. He and his wife staged a full-on intervention.”

Jamie’s brows lifted. “Wow.”

She nodded, encouraged. “I’d already been indefinitely suspended without pay from the hospital. I figured, what do I have to lose?”

“Yeah. We have to reach that point.”

A metallic clang pierced the air – and Claire jumped.

Jamie smiled. “That’s the literal dinner bell. Like I said, I hope you like tacos.”

Claire slid forward in the chair and stood, stretching. “I could eat anything right about now. I’m not too picky.”

Now Jamie stood – and smiled down at her. “I’m helping get everyone seated tonight – we all pick up chores around here. See you in there?”

She smiled back. “Yeah. And thanks for talking to me.”

“No sweat.” Quickly he stepped away from her and across the deck toward the door back inside.

“Hey.”

Claire turned to see a woman – young, dark-haired, size zero – remove her enormous sunglasses.

“Yes?”

“I can’t believe you were talking to him!” she exclaimed.

Claire shoved her hands into her pockets. “What do you mean?”

The woman shook her head. “Do you even know who he is?”

“He introduced himself. Seemed nice enough. Why?”

The woman huffed and flipped her hair over one shoulder. “That’s Jamie Fraser. You know – the singer and lead guitarist in Print?”

“Print?” Claire searched her scattered memory. “Isn’t that some hard rock band?”

“Not just some band – the biggest band in the world for at least five years now. Like, dozens of hits, videos on MTV 24/7, big stadium tours, and armloads of awards. I’ve been trying to get his attention since I got here! And he just walked right up to you!”

It had been a long day. Claire was hungry, and tired, and wanted nothing more than an aspirin and a pillow – maybe a taco first. Definitely not any more time with this girl.

“Well, thanks for the info – ”

“Geneva,” the woman explained. “I’m an alcoholic. You?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Claire made a beeline for the door.

[hellotvshowtrash]

The four times Bucky tries to tell you he loves you and the one time he does.

Warnings: fluffflufffluffflufffluff none zip zero, Bucky being a love struck goofy boy

Word count: 1.8k

Requested by the wonderful @divine-mistake 💗 I hope you enjoy it!!

There are like zero gifs of Bucky smiling so have Seb smiling

The first time Bucky tries to tell you he loves you, his throat dries up and he forgets how to form words. You’re on a walk at dusk, strolling around the neighborhood and he sees how the orange sunset light gleams through your hair, creating colours and highlights he’s not sure he’s ever seen before and he’s staring at you. You notice him out of the corner of your eye and you squeeze his hand gently.

“You’re staring,” you say. You turn your head to look at him and smile. His face is filled with adoration for you and sometimes you wonder if you’re the first woman he’s ever really seen.

He sputters a bit and looks away, his aqua eyes glinting in the sun. “I just-,” I love you. He clears his throat, his voice is raspy and he can’t seem to remember how to speak, so he says the first thing that comes to mind, “I think you’re beautiful.” He says simply. You smile at him again and he curses himself for not saying it when it felt right.

-

The second time Bucky tries to tell you he loves you isn’t through words at all, but through acts of service. Bucky takes the spare key to your apartment that you gave him and lets himself in while you’re at work. He waits anxiously, not entirely sure that he even has a plan and before he can think of one, he’s pacing and cleaning your space, taking the garbage out, vacuuming the floor, making your bed. All meticulously done and he takes pride in his work. When you step through your front door, you’re surprised to see him there, ready to take your coat and bag from you to hang them up in the coat closet.

“Bucky! I didn’t expect you here, or for you to clean my house?” You trail off slightly, making it more of a question than a statement.

“I just couldn’t wait to see you,” he smiles softly at you as he walks back over to you from the closet. “How was your day, baby?” He takes your hand and kisses it while leading you to the living room where there’s a ready cup of tea waiting for you on the coffee table, right next to the book you’ve been reading. You furrow your brows and look at him suspiciously.

He sits you down at the couch and he sits next to you, patting his lap. Your eyes light up as you realize what he's gesturing for. You lay on the couch next to him, resting your head in his lap. His hand drops to your hair and starts playing with it as you start talking about your day. He laughed with you and chatted with you about the events of the day. He could listen to your voice for days if you’d let him.

“Thank you for this, Bucky,” you say after he’s made you laugh. He’s startled by the sudden change of tone, but smiles at your eye contact.

He continues to stroke your hair, smiling down at you. “You’re welcome, doll.” I love you.

-

The third time Bucky tries to tell you he loves you is lavish and elegant and expensive. He’s dressed in his best suit and he makes sure to get a tie in your favourite colour. He drives to your apartment, his vibranium fingers tapping the steering wheel nervously as he whistles to himself. He parks his car and exits, practically sprinting to your apartment but he holds himself together, making himself presentable as he knocks on your door. He’s adjusting his coat and fumbling with the buttons when you open the door and you are stunning. He feels his jaw practically fall to the floor as he takes you in, floor length dress fitting your curves perfectly, hugging you in all the right places. You bite your lip to prevent your grin when you see him, his gaze on you is hungry and amazed and god, how could someone like her be with me?

“You clean up nicely.” You greet him with a warm smile. This shakes him from his trance and his starry eyes meet yours.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he replies. He holds his arm out to you and you take it, locking the door behind you as you leave.

The car ride is filled with joyful conversation and laughter and it’s always easy with Bucky. It’s always warm and comforting and easy. He makes it easy. You find yourself getting lost, thinking about how easy it is to love Bucky and before you know it he’s putting the car in park and taking his seatbelt off.

“You ready?” He asks with a smile. You nod at him and he exits the car, coming around to open your door and escort you out. He takes your hand in his and leads you to your destination.

The night is spent eating, drinking, dancing and and gazing, gazing at Bucky gazing at you as he twirls you and catches you in his arms, craning his neck to place his chin on your shoulder. His arms envelope you from behind and you close your eyes contentedly as you sway on the elegant dance floor to the soft music.

“This is amazing,” you whisper. I love you.

“A beautiful girl deserves a beautiful night,” he whispers back. I love you.

—

The fourth time Bucky tries to tell you he loves you is the same night he spoils you. You invited him to stay the night and now he’s laying next to you, tangled in your sheets with you tucked into his side, head on his arm. Your breathing leveled out twenty minutes ago and he’s been staring at the ceiling, his mind reeling with thoughts and daydreams, the kind he never wants to be rid of. He’s getting lost in thoughts of you and he starts whispering to himself.

“You’re just so perfect,” he whispers. “I never thought I’d get a second chance, and I found my second chance in you. I’ve known one person in my life to stay with me, and when I lost him I thought I lost everything.” He thought of Steve fondly, the ache of that loss numbed with time. He drew circles on your back lightly with his fingertips, feeling your warm skin beneath his.

“Doll, I don’t know who I am without you, and I don’t want to know.” His eyes drift in the darkness, his gaze dropping to you next to him and he kisses the top of your head. You stir from the contact but don’t wake up and he sighs, a small smile on his face.

“I love you,” he says aloud to you. The statement falls on deaf ears but Bucky considers it to be good practice.

—

The time Bucky tells you he loves you for the first time isn’t what he was planning.

You awake the next morning to find yourself spooning a pillow instead of the super soldier, confusion sweeping over your still half asleep face.

You hear the clamoring before you can put two and two together, metal on metal coming from the kitchen in your apartment. You stand and yawn, wiping the sleep from your eyes as you stumble out of your room clad in your pajamas from the night before. You step out into the light to find Bucky fumbling to plate some eggs he had cooked up.

“Hey handsome,” you slide into the kitchen behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he finishes up breakfast.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says huskily. His voice is still raspy from sleep. You smile and squeeze him before letting go and moving around to the other side of the bar, plopping down on a barstool. He slides a full plate to you, complete with eggs, toast and hash browns. You smile and thank him as you bite into the food, groaning in happiness.

“This is delicious.” You say enthusiastically and he laughs, taking a bite from his own plate. “What’s gotten into you?” You asked nonchalantly.

Bucky freezes when you ask the question. Had it been that obvious? He had struggled to find words around you lately and it was because there were only three that could accurately express what’s been on his mind lately. He opens his mouth to speak and shuts it again, unsure of where to go from here.

“Doll, I-,” he stops himself and clenches his jaw. He’s frustrated with himself but he’s so scared that he could break something so important with those words, something so precious to him. You look at him, doe eyed and expectant. He’s cute when he’s flustered, you think to yourself.

“Buck, whatever’s going on, you can tell me,” you say gently as you reach your arm across the countertop and weave your fingers through his vibranium ones. He swallows hard and blinks, his eyes look glassy and wet. You tilt your head, concern washing over you as you realize this might be something serious.

“I love you,” he blurts out and before he can stop his lips from forming the words, they’re already moving again, “I’ve loved you since I laid my eyes on you and I can’t get you out of my head, I don’t want to get you out of my head, and I have a track record of wanting things out of my head,” he chuckles as he rambles, “I don’t think I ever thought I’d get lucky enough to find you, but I know I’ll never let you go.” His voice becomes quieter now, more solemn as his gaze bores into you, looking for some reaction. He becomes panicked when the look on your face only reflects shock and you blink slowly.

He realizes his eyes have filled with tears only after one slips down his cheek and he hurriedly brushes it away. Your fingers are still laced with his and he gives a gentle squeeze, trying to prompt you into speaking. He’s busy containing the storm that rages inside when you sigh and one of your own tears falls down your cheek and you smile, a relieved, genuine, in love grin.

“God, Buck, you scared me!” You exclaim and laugh. Bucky turns his head, still nervous and now unsure of the situation. You stand from your seat at the bar and walk back around to stand in front of him. He swallows hard again as you look up into his eyes. “I thought it was something bad! I love you, too, you goof.” You said. His own grin breaks onto his face and his arms wrap around you, picking you up against his chest. You squeeze him back tightly. The grin is still smeared across your face as he kisses you with renewed ferocity and passion.

He’s told you he loves you. Now he needs to show you.

[tanniefm]

boyfriend | jjk (m)

summary - jungkook knows what you need and definitely knows your husband can’t give it to you like he can.

pairing - jungkook x (f) reader

genre - cheating au, fwb, porn with very little plot

word count - 1.7k

song inspo - boyfriend by ray j (i literally couldn’t stop thinking of this man while listening to this song it was becoming an issue)

warnings - infidelity, explicit language, soft dom jk, sub reader, daddy kink, praise kink, it’s kinda angsty at the end oops.., pet names, kook’s very sweet but :(, subspace, hints of dumbification, jealous kook cause he loves you, unprotected sex (please don’t be stewpid like these two), jungkook in sweatpants and a ponytail (the ultimate combo)

a/n - AHHHH hi this is my first fic (more like a drabble but you get the point) like ever and i did nawt feel like editing anymore than needed cause i was afraid i’d end up deleting everything...with that said!! i really hope you enjoy and sorry if it’s cringy or wtv umbdhb yeah enjoy! oh also merry christmas if you celebrate 🥺🥺

♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°

You knock on his door hastily. You texted him a few minutes earlier because you just couldn’t take it anymore. You tried to be a good wife. A good, loving, perfect wife for Jacob. But he’s driving you fucking crazy. He won’t listen to you, won’t thank you when you do things for him, and he damn sure can’t fuck you like he can. You and Jungkook have been friends for the longest. He knows everything about you and that’s probably why he can make you cum as hard as he does. You hate that it got to this point. One heated argument with Jacob a few months back is all it took for you to come to your best friend's apartment to vent and next thing you knew you were having the best sex you’ve ever had. Now you crave him constantly and you’re not even sure if you feel bad about it.

You instantly clear your thoughts when Jungkook opens the door with a smug look on his face. Fuck, he looks good. Hair in a ponytail, his black long sleeves rolled up, putting his various tattoos on display. And to your delight, gray sweatpants tight enough where you can clearly see him hard as hell. You automatically launch into his embrace and kiss him needily. He knows you, he knows why you’re here. And he’s happy to give it to you. He smiles and chuckles into the kiss and closes the door behind him. He backs you up against the door and pulls away, much to your dismay. He giggles as you whine from the loss of his lips on yours. 

“What’d he do this time, pretty girl?” he says softly as he cups your face. His hands are so pretty, you think. They're so big and make you feel so good. He’s so big. He loves making you feel cute and small, like he’s the only one that can take care of you. You think he might be right.

“Couldn’t cum…” you whine. There’s a tiny pout on your face and Jungkook thinks you’re adorable. He’ll never say it out loud, but sometimes he wishes you’d just leave him to be his. You and him both know that won’t happen though, you’re very adamant that you love Jacob. Whatever, Jungkook will take what he gets. As long as he has you.

He smiles and mockingly pouts back. “I know baby, you need me to take care of you, hm? My baby needs me to make her feel good?” He pecks your forehead softly as you whine some more. You’re so needy, he has no idea why that dude refuses to listen to you when you ask to try different things in bed. Vanilla is cute every now and then but Jungkook knows you want more. You like to be thrown around and choked but you also love when you’re praised. You like being a good girl but you’re also a fucking brat. You like to be kissed, and cuddled, and babied after you have consecutive orgasms. Jungkook knows you, so why doesn’t he?

You nod and fist your hands into his shirt. You need him, badly. He’s all you could think about while you and Jacob were having sex. All you asked was if he could pull your hair a bit and he looked at you like you were crazy and told you no. It’s one thing to not be comfortable with doing certain things, but to look at you like that and not even hear you out? It stung, and all you wanted was for Kook to take care of you like you knew he would.

“I asked for him to pull my hair and he looked at me like I was stupid. I-I just wanted to try something different for once and he refuses to do anything I want to do. I need you Kookie please I’m so wet I can’t-“ 

“Shh sweetheart, it’s ok. Come on, I’ll take care of it.” he cuts you off gently and taps on the back of your thighs to signal you to jump. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist and bury your face in his neck and suck bruises into his smooth skin while he carries you to his room. He lays you on his bed and kisses you deeply. His hands slowly move your shirt up and out of the way as he makes his way down your neck. You quickly take your bra off and throw it to the side. You can tell he wants to eat you out but you’re very impatient. As much as you love his mouth on you, you desperately need his cock filling you up right now. He softly kisses your nipple and looks up. You’re pouting again. You’re even needier than he thought. He pulls your leggings down and zeros in on your panties. There’s a huge wet spot in the middle and he can feel his cock twitch. The string of arousal that attaches itself to your underwear while he pulls them down is driving him insane.

“My poor baby, you weren’t kidding when you said how wet you were, huh? Who made you this wet?” he says while he strips his shirt off, showing more of his copious tattoos. He loved when you traced them while he held you and hummed softly after you were sent deep into subspace. Maybe he can experience that again tonight.

“You did daddy,” Bingo. You weren’t even thinking when you said it, all you could think about was him him him. He froze before swiftly pulling down his sweatpants and you watched in awe as his dick spring up to his stomach. He’s so big, you need him so bad. He climbs back on top of you and kisses you roughly while teasing your entrance. He keeps running his tip up and down to spread around your arousal.

“Daddy, please I need you inside. Please don’t tease.” you whine. You’re squirming around and your eyes are starting to well up. Why isn’t he fucking you? Should you have come at all? What if he doesn’t want you anymore? Your mind is so fuzzy and negative thoughts are starting to swirl and pull you deeper and deeper-

“Hey hey, look at me. No more thinking baby, just focus on me. There you go, that’s my good girl.” he squeezes your hips as he pushes in. He can tell when you start overthinking, it’s one of the perks of being friends with you for so long. You moan loudly as he pushes deep inside of you. He quickly sets a rough pace once he feels you adjust and sees your eyes roll back in euphoria. You’re so beautiful. He loves that he can make you feel like this. You’re squeezing so tightly around him and everything feels so fucking good. He pushes your legs to your chest and you gasp loudly.

“Daddy it-it’s too deep! Oh my fucking God I- fuck!” you whimper as he goes faster.

“You can take it precious, I know you can. You’re doing so well. Taking me so well. Fuck- you’re always so good for me. My pretty little girl. Love this fucking pussy, shit!” he rambles. He can’t help it, just as much as he fucks you stupid he also gets into a headspace where he can’t think of anything but you. The pretty sounds you make, your tight ass pussy, your soft thighs he’s holding. And that stupid fucking man you’re married to. The thought of him makes him pound into you harder. He hates him, he really does. He hates him because he wants to be him. Jungkook would treat you like a princess if you were his. But you chose that lame ass dude.

“Does he fuck you like this? Hm? Does he know how much of a little slut you are for me? Does he know how much you need this dick to make you cum?” he growls. You shake your head and dig your nails into his biceps.

“No daddy it’s you, only you. No one else but you” you mumble. You’re so fucked out and so so close. Just a little more, a little longer.

“Fuck you’re getting so fucking tight. You gonna cum princess? My little slut gonna cum all over me? I know you want to baby, go ahead and let go for me” he switches angles and makes sure your clit is rubbing against his pelvis while he continually hits your g-spot. You nod quickly while he encourages you more and more. With a cry of his name, you finally let go. It only takes Jungkook a few more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you with a whiny moan. He drops down and faceplants into your neck as you both pant heavily. You feel him peck your neck and face softly as he mumbles how good you were for him.

“My good,” forehead kiss, “precious,” cheek kiss, “baby,” nose kiss, “girl,” he finally reaches your lips. You smile and giggle at his cute antics. He always gets so soft after sex, you love it though. He gently pulls out and lays down beside you to tuck you in his arms. 

“You were so good baby. I’m so proud of you.” he says as he plants several kisses on the top of your head. You snuggle deeper into his chest and look up at him with starry eyes. Your head’s still fuzzy, but you feel safe with him. Jungkook is safe.

“I’m good?” you ask quietly. You were fuzzy, but you weren’t stupid. You knew what you two were doing is wrong. You knew you should break it off or at the very least leave Jacob. But you can’t, you still love him. You want to grow old with him. He just...can’t give you what you need sometimes.

Jungkook pauses. He wants to tell you to leave him. He could give you everything and more if you just leave him. But that always ends in an argument, and he hates arguing with you.

“Yes sweetheart, you’re perfect.” It’s ok. Jungkook can wait.

[bonjour-rainycity]

Making Amends

Summary: Five years, you thought he was gone for good. After the War, he disappeared. Now, after months of zero contact, he shows up at your bridal salon. A somewhat bitter Reader and a post-FATWS Bucky

Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader

Word count: 2381

Warnings: Mentions of past violence and killings, adult language

I sigh, securing the train of the dress so it doesn’t drag against the floor. The dress is stunning, as they all are. This one—pouffy, ivory, grand—has a bateau neckline and falls to the floor in a long, glittering train.

The glitter gets everywhere.

I bend down, trying to wipe some of it off my pants leg, then work on my blazer. Every day, only black clothes. It’s tradition, but a stupid one — the glitter stands out on my clothes more than it does on the white dresses.

“Miss, someone’s here to see you.”

I grit my teeth, digging my hands into the fabric of the dress. The receptionist is young — barely out of her teens, really — and still quite new at her job. She, like others, disappeared on that awful day five and a half years ago.

The day I lost everything.

And she’s here today because of my friends’ sacrifices.

I try to remind myself to be patient. “We’re appointment only, Lydia. Tell her to call, make an appointment, and come back then.”

“R-right,” she stammers, and I can hear the bottoms of her heels scraping against the floor as she shifts her weight. “It’s just—well, he said it’s really important, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

That gives me pause. He?

As a product manager at a bridal salon, my day is mostly spent in the company of women. Brides, their mothers, bridal parties, wedding planners, etc. There’s the occasional fiancé, father, brother, friend come to support, or a groom shopping for a dress, but overall, men tend to stand out.

“Fine, send him in,” I allow. It’s obvious he’s not listening to Lydia, but I know I’m more intimidating than she is. I’ll tell him to schedule an appointment. “And then do me a favor — there’s a list of designers on my desk upstairs. Can you give their offices a call and update the contact info for each brand representative?”

She sounds relieved. “Sure, no problem.”

As the sound of her heels meeting the ground fade away, I breathe in the sweet, floral-scented air. We’re under-booked today. There are only a few brides occupying our east fitting rooms, so I’ve decided to spend my afternoon in the west, making everything look perfect for the weekend ahead. Having this section alone — just me, the soft piano music playing over the speakers, and the dresses — is almost peaceful.

It would be peaceful if I were anyone else.

I continue to straighten the dresses. Everything needs to be perfectly spaced, meticulously tucked and folded to make each dress impressive in its own way. There’s no room for imperfection, here.

The sound of heavy boots clicking on the floor rings through the empty room. “Hey, Doll.”

My body runs cold.

That voice. I know it well.

My mind flashes to late nights, stealing smiles and kisses, tight hugs, adoring eyes.

And then falling to the ground in grief. Changing outfits to attend my second funeral of the day. His. And, after years of grieving, healing, and suffering through, one chance to fix it all. The joy of having him back. Locking eyes on the battlefield.

And then nothing.

Nothing.

All my air leaves me in one, quick, sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I turn, both dreading the sight and longing for it.

And just like that, standing between two rows of eggshell and pearl and ivory, he’s here.

Dark denim jeans, a deep blue shirt—long sleeve, knowing him—a grey button-up open on his chest, and two thick gloves, despite the summer heat.

I cross my arms.

He purses his lips together and raises his eyebrows, crossing one foot over the other casually. “So, bridal, huh?”

I feel my jaw clench. “I’ve got to make a living, don’t I? Evidently you do, too.” I can’t stop the bitterness from seeping into my voice.

He sighs that long-suffering sigh, one that tells me he’s more resigned than upset. “I wanted to come back.”

I turn my attention back to the dresses, walking down the row of gleaming white. “No one was stopping you.”

He turns to face me as I continue my inspection of each and every gown. “It’s not that simple. I—I was working hard. I had to get freed from him.”

I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to feel something. But of course, I do. Ever since I’ve known Bucky, he’s been wrecked by the things he’s done and terrified he’ll be called to do them again.

Terrified that he’ll lose his mind once again to the assassin.

When I saw him on TV, in a random news report from months ago, I’d broken down into sobs. I’d fallen to my knees and said prayer after prayer of thanks. Because the clouds had faded from his eyes. The fear, the ever-present dread, was gone. He stood taller, more assured —

Happier.

I knew then, that somehow, he’d gotten the Winter Soldier out.

I bend down, fluffing layers of crinoline in a ballgown. “You’ve been in the news.”

He hears the accusation in my voice. You’ve been back for months.

He approaches me slowly, coming to stand in front of me as I straighten. “I had a job to do.”

“What, the new Captain America doesn’t allow cell phones?”

He ignores the jab. “Doll, I had to wait to make sure, to be sure, but I’m safe, now. I’m not him anymore.”

“Bucky, I always felt safe with you,” I whisper, the emotion nearly winning. “I loved you more than anything. And despite what you said — that you loved me, too — you just left. Five years I waited for you. I didn’t think there was any way I would ever see you again, and then by some miracle, after so much loss, you came back! We fought in a war together. We killed. And we won. And then you disappeared. It’s been six months! I-I mean, I hate to think the worst, Bucky, but I really thought—” I cut off my words then, unable to continue without dissolving into tears.

His jaw tightens in that heartbreaking way it does when he’s sad, and he reaches forward. When I don’t protest to his gloved hand on mine, he pulls me into a hug. I want to melt into him. I want to collapse under nearly six years of unresolved grief, stress, worry, and let him hold me up, let him bear this burden for just a few minutes.

But that’s not the way I’m made.

I’ve entrusted my heart to him too many times.

And every time, I’m left alone and broken.

I push myself out of his arms, wiping my tears away quickly. Once again, the dresses act as my anchor, my distraction. I gather one in my arms, crossing the aisle to re-hang it in its proper place.

Bucky watches from a distance.

His hands are tucked into his pockets, and he looks at me sadly for a while before his eyes turn to the ground.

Silence falls between us. The only noises are the coos of elated brides and their adoring guests coming from the east side of the building.

After a while, Bucky raises his head towards me. “Does working here make you want it?”

I sigh. He can’t do that. Can’t come in here after so much time away with zero contact and then casually ask me stupid questions. “Want what?”

“You know,” he shrugs, leaning against the receptionist’s desk. “It. A wedding, a marriage, a…life.”

I purse my lips, shaking my head. I reach to adjust a hanger slightly out of my arm span, trying my hardest not to sound sad. “I’m not the kind of girl you marry, Buck. Not anymore.”

He scoffs, making a face. “What does that even mean?”

I turn on him, more than done with this conversation. “Exactly that! I see it every day — brides come in here, all starry-eyed, happy, innocent. They’ve got love, or at least the excitement of planning their ‘big day,’ and they just glow with all the life in them. I don’t have that, not anymore. I—” I lower my voice, gritting my teeth against the emotion that attempts to fight through. “I’ve killed people, Bucky. For a long period of time, that’s all I did. And, look, I’m really, really happy for you being able to heal and move on and be freed, but I can’t do that. I can’t come back from who I turned out to be.”

“That’s bullshit. You did what you had to do.” He pushes himself off the receptionist’s desk, adamant. “Every life you took was to stop the slaughter of others. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I can.”

We stare each other down.

He’s always had a good stare.

Steady, intimidating, unwavering. It’s like he can see into the depths of your soul and know he can outlast you.

But I work with furious mothers of the brides.

I raise an eyebrow, showing him I will not back down from this challenge.

He blinks and moves his gaze past my right shoulder. Something shifts in his eyes. “You’ve got a client.”

I force my expression to soften, maneuvering around Bucky to grab the clipboard from the receptionist’s desk. I give him a look that clearly says do not move, and hurry to the front door to welcome the bride and her guests in. Amidst the flurry of excited chatters, gushing about wedding plans, and a clear description of what she does not want, I check them in on the clipboard and take them to the east wing to meet a consultant. When I return, Bucky is exactly where I left him.

He smirks at me. “What the hell was that? Your voice rose like three octaves.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s called customer service.”

He shrugs, leaning against the desk in a way I should not find ridiculously attractive. “Well, why don’t I get any of that?”

I grit my teeth. “Because they are going to buy a dress, which will pay my salary, which will make me happy. You on the other hand, have caused me nothing but anger, sadness, and worry.” I blink, absently shocked that all that truth escaped despite my best efforts.

Something flashes in Bucky’s eyes—regret, maybe—but he covers it well, tilting his head to the side and keeping his playful tone. “Really? Nothing but that? Gosh, I must have been a terrible boyfriend.”

I dig my teeth into my lower lip, staring down at my clipboard. It’s been six months. You may as well continue with the honesty. You don’t know the next time you’ll have a change to talk to him like this. “Buck…” I approach him slowly, buying myself time. Too soon, I come to stand in front of him. “You were a great boyfriend. I…” I sigh, shaking my head. “I thought you were it. I didn’t want anyone else. And we were happy, overall. You know—up until you disappeared without so much as a text and ignored me for six months.”

A muscle twitches in his cheek. He leans forward, locking his eyes with mine. “We were good together. I loved you, more than anything, I—well Doll, I still love you. And look, I know I’ve messed up. In more ways than seems is humanly possible, but I,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m as clean as I’m ever gonna get. I shouldn’t have disappeared without warning. I should’ve called when I left Wakanda. I should’ve let you hear from me rather than seeing me on the news. I should’ve come back and done the work to rebuild what I broke. I’m sorry. I really am.”

I feel the clipboard digging into my stomach. I don’t move. I stare at him, terrified of the way his words, the honesty in his eyes, makes me react. Too easily, my walls are coming down. “What did you come here for?”

“I—just,” he digs his hands into his pockets, sighing lowly. “I’m back in town. And I’m here to stay for a while. If you’d allow it, I’d like to try to make amends.”

Don’t do it, I beg myself. Don’t set yourself up for more pain.

In the face of my silence, he nods slowly, taking on a look of sad understanding.

“I work till seven.” The words rush from my mouth before I can stop them, before I can think of the consequences. I grip the clipboard even tighter.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, the start of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nod, my heart racing at the prospect of being with him again, of maybe fixing things. “I live in the same apartment.”

He grins fully now, but at my stern look, attempts to wipe it off his face. I’m still mad at him, he shouldn’t get too comfortable yet.

But the light doesn’t leave his eyes and, despite my fear that this will all turn out terribly for me, I feel my own lips threatening to turn up.

He pushes himself off the desk, standing closer to me than I think either of us intended. “Can I take you out?”

I release a long breath, not moving from my spot despite our proximity. “Yes.”

He nods slowly, not pulling his gaze from mine. “It’s a date.”

“It’s a trial period,” I correct, unable to keep myself from teasing him a little.

He tilts his head to the side, laughing indulgently. “Alright, I deserve that. Then, sure, I’ll pick you up at eight for our trial period.”

He smirks cockily at me, winking in that way he knows makes my knees weak, before turning and swaggering to the door.

Despite our play, he’s not getting off this easy. There’s a lot we have to work through, and we might not even be compatible anymore — he knows that, too.

But for just this moment, I allow myself to enjoy feeling comfortable with him, joking like we used to. When his gloved hand reaches for the doorknob, I call after him, keeping my tone light. “You’re on thin fucking ice, Barnes.”

He turns his head to mine, nodding solemnly in a way I didn’t expect. “I know, Doll.”

A/n Whoops, couldn’t get this one out of my head after seeing Bucky in FATWS, so here’s some angst, bitterness, and hopefully a little hope! 

|masterlist|

[romelle]

got any allura headcanons? i loved your hunk ones <3

i sure do!! and since today is her unofficial birthday (or allurentine) these are based around that 🥰🌈🍫🌹 they’re set sometime after the war, except the team is still in space and s7-8 didn't happen 

as it turns out, organising a surprise party can be a rather tricky ordeal when the person you're hiding it from literally lives with you

allura, walking in on keith standing next to lance with a giant bouquet of red roses, magical candles floating around their heads and heart-shaped decorations scattered all over the room: ...

lance:

keith:

allura:

lance: so i proposed

keith: jesus fuck

some of them don't even bother to be subtle. pidge asks her to play a game of 21 questions, but when allura (who is simply over the moon with the fact that pidge is finally branching out) asks what her favourite colour is, pidge just goes "triangle. how do you feel about red velvet cakes"

allura, in an overexaggeratedly loud voice: my oh my, i sure do love sparkly things! if only someone were to get me something sparkly for whatever reason at all! i would be so incredibly delighted!

shiro: you figured it out huh

allura, in her normal voice again: please. the mice told me as soon as you got the idea

the entire party is valentines themed!! all the balloons are heart-shaped, the cupcakes all have pink sprinkles, and hunk makes some chocolate covered strawberry drops! the roses lance and keith bought also make an appearance

allura: wait. so you two aren't actually engaged?

lance:

keith:

lance: well, see, technically-

shiro: jesus fuck

hunk makes everyone colour coordinated paper party hats with the power of arts and crafts! romelle helps and makes a special glittery paper crown for lura, since it has to be clear that she's the birthday girl

romelle: you don't have to wear it if you don't want to!! i know you already have the real thing, so this must feel a bit foolish

allura, holding back tears: this is quite genuinely the best birthday gift i've ever gotten

coran: ...your father once named a star system after you

allura: did i stutter

they also get her a pair of light-up sneakers, and she is absolutely enamoured w them. she wears them to all of their fancy diplomatic meetings for the entire following month

lance: okay princess, we're all going to count down to zero, and then you can blow out the candles and make your wish

allura, starry-eyed:  i see! earth birthday traditions are so much fun

lance, the youngest sibling, already getting ready to blow out the candles once the countdown reaches 1: haha. they sure are!

it takes them three countdowns and hunk holding his hand over lance's mouth until she finally gets to blow them out

romelle, with a soft smile: may i ask what your wish was?

allura, too embarrassed to say that she wished to spend all of her future birthdays with these exact same people (and maybe also with romelle holding her hand): a pet weblum

shiro tries to take a photo of them around the cake, and then he just kind of stands there with a weird look on his face. the rest of the team assumes that he's getting sentimental, but actually he's sweating because he’s an old man and doesn't know how to take photos on altean holoscreens

shiro: happy birthday princess! you don't look a day over ten thousand

allura: thank you! neither do you :-)

shiro: ...for the last time, i'm only 26

coran pulls the tips of her ears the same number of times as the number of years she's turning, the way he always did when she was a child. it's supposed to be silly, but at some point, they both start laugh-crying

allura: where did you get all the decorations?

lance: keith, romelle and i took a quick trip to earth. you wouldn't believe how dedicated they are to celebrating your birthday down there lura

keith, rolling his eyes: lance tried to convince romelle that all the valentines stuff in the stores was actually for you

romelle:

romelle: it wasn't??

they all fall asleep while watching romcoms on the couch, and although there are no royal banquets or extravagant gifts, it's one of the most treasured birthdays of allura's life

[onlyswan]

blue & grey (3) | jjk

→ pairing: jungkook x f!reader

→ genre: fluff, angst

→ warnings: none

→ word count: 2.6k

↳ one | two | three

summary: everywhere i go, everywhere i see. can you look at me ‘cause i am blue and grey?

—

your phone alarm blares noisily beside your pillow, and for the first minute you just stare at it and agonize at the thought of getting out of bed. with a heavy hand, you tap the stop button and is greeted a good morning by jungkook’s cheeky smile.

the boy liked inspecting things, courtesy of that one time he touched the pan when asked by jimin if it was already heating up and actually answered with an estimation of the temperature despite the thrumming burn on his fingers.

“why the fuck would you touch it?” you asked angrily while applying petroleum-based ointment on the injury. jimin went out to buy bandages after he was blamed by jungkook since he was ‘the one who made him do it.���

“i don’t know either!” he cried out in half frustration, half amusement. he might’ve gone insane, he thought. he didn’t mind the stubborn sting when there you were, tending to him with evident concern. it made him ridiculously happy. “my hand moved on its own. it betrayed me. i have traitorous hands!”

taehyung was almost crying from holding back his laughter, his lips in a thin line. his body was vibrating, back slowly sliding down the chair. with his free hand, jungkook threw a pillow at him which he caught with ease. the action only triggered his laugher to escape his mouth. “you’re hilarious, man. i think i fucking love you.”

“fuck you. is my pain that funny to you?!”

well, your phone didn’t manage to escape his adventurous grabby hands. you didn’t mind at all. you had nothing to hide and be humiliated about, but to your surprise, the only app he clicked on was the camera. he took countless of pictures to set himself as your lockscreen, replacing van gogh’s painting ‘starry night over the rhone.’ for some reason, you didn’t want to change it back to the one you’ve had for the past year. it was a transition you liked, the dark night to his bright smile and vivid hair.

you rub the sleep out of your eyes and squint at the date, only to realize that it’s saturday. why would i have an alarm set on a saturday morning? then it clicks. you’re supposed to go out today. with jungkook. nothing much, you only planned to squeeze in a lunch together between the workload piling on you both. to be honest, nothing much has changed since that night. except you kiss and stuff. he steals a kiss at the most random times as if it’s something he’s been normally doing.

you sit up with your head in your hands. “it’s not a big deal. it’s going to be fine.” you mutter to yourself quietly.

you’re feeling light, giddy even, as you take a bath and dress up. you can’t remember the last time you went on a date. actually, you can. but not the last time you actually enjoyed it. you know they all want the same thing in the end, but would it kill them to at least try and pretend? there has never been a day or moment that you didn’t enjoy being with jungkook though, more so, you’re afraid of being the one to ruin it.

the knock on your door snaps you out of your thoughts. you run the comb a few more times through your hair before rushing to open the door.

jungkook steps forward to plant a swift kiss on your lips. “good morning,” he chirps with that smile, but that’s not what you’re looking at right now. your eyes zero in on the hair peaking out of his bucket hat.

“your hair . . .”

his hand comes up to pull down the hat but you grab his forearm to stop him. “is it red?”

“yes- no. kind of,” he answers nervously. you pull away and he takes the hat off, shaking his head and fixing his hair to show it to you. compared to the blueberry color he was sporting just three days ago, this is more of a lighter, faded red. almost bordering on pink. it’s definitely different, but it looks beautiful on him. of course it does. it even compliments the natural blush on his soft cheeks. you swear he will look good with orange even though it’s the worst color in your book.

“wow,” you mumble in admiration. “it looks good! what made you do it?”

“well, it’s been a while since i went blue so i got bored. figured it’s time to try a new color.” he chews on his bottom lip. “you like it?”

“yeah, of course. it looks cool. not that my opinion matters.” you laugh softly. “i just need to get my bag so we can go.”

—

you ended up stealing his bucket hat, now it’s sitting on top of your head as you sip on your drink. jungkook chose to sit outside where a giant umbrella looms over the two of you. the sun is shining too brightly for your taste, but he seems to enjoy the sunshine so you agreed anyway.

after sharing all the gossip he’s gathered from his classes and their respective social circles, he moved on to pestering you about a never ending topic between the two of you again.

“see, i really don’t believe that you don’t have a favorite color or movie. there must be something!”

you roll your eyes. “are you really not going to let this go?” your indecisiveness has long been questioned and made fun of by almost every person that crosses your life. in all honesty, nothing stands out to you. a good movie is a good movie. you don’t think there’s a reasonable scale to measure which one would be your favorite. there’s numerous factors to put into consideration.

“no,” he shakes his head stubbornly, biting off the chicken from his fork. “how about a favorite song? have i asked you that yet?”

yes, he has asked you about it before. at that time, nothing came to mind. so why the fuck did a particular song pop up in your head right now? despite the song title hanging on the tip of your tongue, you lie through your teeth. “now that’s just pushing it. how can one possibly choose a favorite song? there’s millions of great ones and it depends on the vibes you’re going for.”

he pouts in careful consideration as he surrenders to your reasoning. “okay, let me ask you this then. based on how it looks on me. blonde, blue, or . . .” he pauses to think. “or whatever color my hair is now.”

you’ve only seen him with blonde hair in pictures. “i really like whatever color your hair is now.”

“are you serious?”

“yeah, does it sound like i’m joking?”

“please elaborate,”

you plant your elbow on the table and lean your cheek on your palm. “can we order dessert before you fish for compliments?”

“okay!” he reaches for a menu left on the table beside you. a few heads turn on your direction at his loud, happy voice. you laugh quietly before snatching it from his hands.

—

jungkook glances at the slice of cheesecake sitting on the middle of the table. it absolutely looks inviting. however, it would be rude to take a bite without you, so he waits patiently.

you went to the comfort room and left your phone on the table, which starts vibrating. the word is ‘lawyer’ written across the screen. his eyebrows furrow in curiosity upon seeing it, but he only stares at it until the call ends.

“oooh, it looks so good.” you can’t help but to say as you take your seat again.

“i should hope so. it’s expensive.” he snickers, digging his fork on the confection before holding it to your mouth.

“what are you do-” he interrups you by feeding you a bite, a childish grin plastered on his pretty face. it’s hard to get mad at him and that makes you mad.

at last, he finally tastes the dessert, the flavors popping in his tastebuds satisfyingly. “i might come back here from now on.”

“and take all the cheesecake all for yourself?” you raise an eyebrow, snatching the fork from his hand and taking another bite.

his face suddenly lights up as an idea struck him. “oh, oh! i should learn how to make it. it’s gonna be my new project.”

your hand comes down to rub your stomach. “you’re not going to make me eat your experiments everyday, are you?” you chuckle nervously, your pupils shaking. however, the determination on jungkook’s handsome face crushed your hopes into fine dust.

“you’re so silly. every week! until i get it perfect.”

he pouts at the direction of the fork and slightly opens his mouth, and with a grimace, you feed him the bite you sliced off for yourself.

~*~

you take a walk along the river, the wind particularly friendly that day. the cool caresses your skin ever so gently, and you think the way jungkook’s hair is blowing against the wind makes him look like your dreamboat. he interlaces his fingers with yours, holding your hand in his without any plans of letting go. and you find yourself not wanting him to pull away either. you don’t think you have the courage to hold his hand first yet. not yet. once again, there’s a harsh nudge in your mind convincing you that you’re being annoying about this. too conscious. too paranoid.

but jungkook’s voice brings you back from the tornado that was starting to form in your head. “what are your greatest fears?”

you pause, your steps slowing down a bit. “you answer first.“ he gives you a skeptical look. “come on, give me time to think.”

he mutters a quiet fine. “i had a dream once that elephants stomped all over me and i died, so i’ve been scared shitless of them since then.” he chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“what? how can you think of them that way? they are so cute!”

“i know they are, but i’m traumatized!” he cries out, bringing both your hands over his chest before pressing a kiss over your knuckles.

“but on the more serious side, i’m terrified of dying alone. life is short, but it holds countless of memories and experiences and people. i don’t want to feel like my existence didn’t occupy a significant space in anyone’s heart.”

jungkook is choosing to be vulnerable with you. and that makes you happy and afraid at the same time. the hold you have on his hand tightens. “i don’t think that’s going to happen, jungkook. you’re a remarkably wonderful person. you don’t even see it, do you?”

he feels his heart tighten in his chest, and he wants to kiss you more than anything at that moment. “i hope you’re right.”

“if i end up being wrong, don’t go cursing me on your deathbed when you’re 80 or something.”

“well, no promises. i may or may not hold grudges.” he chuckles, looking at your smiling side profile. the sun illuminates over your skin just right, and he feels all warm inside.

“i think one of my biggest fears is,” you pause, swallowing thickly before turning your head to watch the bicycles racing each other and the kids buying ice cream. “becoming someone i don’t like. sometimes, it’s impossible to go against the human nature, you know? i don’t want to completely succumb to the ugly parts that live in me. i don’t want to be weak. it’s humiliating.”

you don’t give him a chance to speak. you can’t even bring yourself to look at his eyes, so you stare at the scar on his cheek. “i want some ice cream.”

jungkook lets you tug at his hand, and he starts to regret asking so many questions until you smile ever so sweetly at him when he chooses your favorite ice cream flavor without thinking twice.

—

jimin sighs exasperatedly at the sight of you sitting pitifully on his bathroom floor at four in the morning. you can both hear birds chirping outside. the sounds make you want to laugh. but you just breathe heavily and stare at the small cabinet under his bathroom sink.

“i told you it was beer.”

“i didn’t hear you.” you mutter, fully aware how pathetic you must look and sound. “i hate beer. why the fuck did you let me drink that shit?” the awful taste still sits on your tongue, and you have never regretted your actions as much as you do now.

“why the fuck you did you barge in my room at 4am and then steal alcohol from my fridge without even looking at the label?”

you lean against the wall when you start to feel uncomfortable with your position. “because i have a question,” you look up to him. back against the door frame, jimin’s eyes are droopy and tired. the loose black shirt, the one he hastily wore when he woke up from your stubborn shaking of his resting body, is inside out, but you don’t say anything about it. “why aren’t you mad at me?”

“for what?”

“i was horrible to you. i broke your heart, and i stomped on it. but now you’re my best friend in the world and you know i hate beer.”

he closes his eyes for a brief moment, trying to make out your words through the drowsiness impeding his thinking. “sure, i expected a little more compassion from you. but i confessed because i knew you were going to reject me. i realized you didn’t want a relationship, you needed a friend. i wanted to be honest with you.”

when you’re with jimin, you become a little kid. all your walls crumble and fall into rubble. tears start to gather at the corner of your eyes and you sniff. “i don’t want to be just friends with jungkook.”

“you could’ve just led with that,” he grumbles, occupying the space beside you and leaning his head on your shoulder. “he likes you, and you like him. what is there to complicate?”

“that makes it more complicated!”

“stop running away,” he says your name with a certain fondness, followed by a yawn. “and stop trying to make people run away when you get tired of running.”

you understand. but you don’t want to admit it. you sound like a pathetic coward. “you don’t make any sense. i only heard the word run.”

“maybe i should be mad at you, you dumbfuck.”

“that would be a two year late reaction.”

“jungkook wants to make you happy. let him do so. i’m begging you.” you try to wiggle away from him, his head being too heavy on your shoulder. “stay still, will you?”

you don’t say anything after that. your phone has been on silent for hours, so you take it out of your pocket. you smile. at twelve am, jungkook sent you a thirty second video of him boxing with his trainer. he kept praising me after this. told you i’m good. you reply, i never doubted you and your hair looks like cherry when wet. jimin is passed out and slumped by your side. you start to feel guilty for bothering his sleep. and once guilt creeps up on you, it strings along an entire army of other things you are guilty of. so you open the cabinet with your foot and you squint to read all of the words written on the products he uses. eventually, you get tired, too.

the small hand of the clock is pointing at 8, and taehyung has his camera pointed at the two sleeping figures in the bathroom. “these damn weirdos.”

—

a/n: well this was ass and not proofread but i enjoyed writing it and i haven’t written in a month . i think . IM SO SO SORRY. but i’m alive :] hello helloooo

[mxmollusca]

AO3 links behind the cut:

To-cat-ta and Fugue

Pairing: Blackbonnet

Rating: T

Summary: My piece for the A to Z of Ed Teach Zine, featuring the letter N for Ned, in which I predict Ed's catboy era before season two gifted us with the bell collar and onesie. Canon-divergent post season one, in a universe where Ed and Stede make it back to the Revenge and resume pirating.

***

Works for Spiders

Pairing: Blackbonnet

Rating: M

Summary: Innkeepers-era horror-comedy told from the POV of the house spider who lives in the inn. Think Charlotte's Web meets Home Alone.

***

Wave Hello to the Void

Pairing: Blackbonnet

Rating: E

Summary: Stede Bonnet is a former professor of folklore and aspiring YouTube personality trying to find the Mothman.

Edward Teach is an ex-astronomer just trying to find a way out of small-town West Virginia.

Little do they know that what they actually find will change them both forever.

Written in collaboration with @zacharybosch and @eefaevie!

***

The Scientific Findings of E. Teach, Stedeologist series:

An Arm and a Leg

The Sticking Place

Pairing: Blackbonnet

Rating: E

Summary: Stede is cursed to grow tentacles whenever he gets wet, and Ed is a huge, horny nerd about it. The story answers the question: "What if a body that changes is fine, actually?"

***

The Starry Eyes and Counting Down to Zero series:

In Favor With Their Stars

The Ship of Theseus

Pairing: Blackbonnet

Rating: M

Summary: Ed is an engineer aboard the Revenge, an interplanetary research vessel on a multi-year mission to study Jupiter's moon Europa. An accident requires that Ed awaken from cryostasis over six months early, and finds his only companion to be Stede, the ship's onboard AI. They develop an unconventional friendship, but is it possible to have more?

This is classic mutual pining with a sci-fi twist, inspired by all of my favorite stories about the nature of personhood.

Audio drama excerpts from In Favor with Their Stars, performed by @nordarknessdimsthesky

***

There's a Monster at the End of This Book

Pairing: Vianton

Rating: M

Summary: Musings on humanity, monstrosity, and buttons, or:

Anton self-actualizes, with a little help from a friend.

***

Choose Your Own Adventure: Reunion!

Pairing: Blackbonnet

Rating: E

Summary: A collaborative Choose Your Own Adventure story full of feelings, smut, a sprinkling of angst, a generous helping of nonsense, and a whole lot of amazing writing and art by 16 different writers and artists!