#please guys I need to know for science

[phightinghottakes]

Okay you know what I NEED to use my newfound power as a Phighting blog to answer the question I’ve been rotating in my brain:

[shannonsketches]

One of my favorite differences in the DBZ manga that makes Vegebul make More Sense To Me, is that because Vegeta never left Earth, he was living at Capsule Corp for over two years before Bulma got pregnant (assuming Trunks is like 3-6mos old when we see him as a baby), but she said she 'wouldn't live with that jerk' afterward, which implies (to me) that he'd been a chill enough housemate up until the pregnancy, which tracks with his generally private and professional behavior as a Lord in the Freeza Force (in the manga).

I like to think it became a compounding factor in learning that he was slated to be killed in a year, and led to him being uncharacteristically overzealous and performative (and so opposed to Trunks getting close to him) in the android saga as opposed to how strategic and cautious he was with serious threats in the Freeza saga.

I am also always thinking about how Something Happened between him losing to Cell and re-entering the time chamber in the manga, because he was back living at Capsule Corp and staying near Trunks and Bulma when the Cell Games were announced.

[notwhelmedyet]

Hi this Rm67 from Ao3 If I said something that offended you I'm truly sorry. That was not my intention I just thought the scene where Astarion was cuddled up to Karlach was really cute I would never ever use someone else's work without express permission

Your comment was fine. I'm not having Donald Trump's name in the comment section of my queer (?) fanfiction (?) about the importance of restorative justice (?) and not letting our implicit biases against out-groups we find frightening lead us to commit our own violence in the name of 'justice' (?????).

If you don't want people to take your comments as political statements, I highly recommend you use AO3's feature to change your username (see instructions at link). At literally any time you have the ability to change your username to not mention your political views, allowing authors who see your comments to not get whacked in the face with the name of a politician who hates them, their friends and everything they stand for ideologically.

If I might also recommend, just as a general piece of online courtesy: when someone blocks you on one social media website, it can be frustrating. We would all like strangers to like us and want to interact with us. However, it's considered generally even more rude to try and follow them to other websites to get them to explain why they've blocked you. Sometimes you have to let things go.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Fixed point (mathematics) // The History of Perspective // "Point of Disappearance", Dennis Held // How the Hughes hockey family stays grounded // Fixed Point Photography-- // "Portrait of A.", Tung-Hui Hu // Mic'd Up | Hughes NHL 25 cover shoot // "Burnt Norton", T.S. Eliot // "Circuitry", Janine Joseph // Bruce Bennett // Nick Wass // from obedience [maybe one day, during a point in time], kari edwards // Bill Rapai // "Errand Upon Which We Came", Stephanie Strickland // Benchmark (surveying)

art kid luke hughes

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

Now for the final round!

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

What's more happy holiday cheer than cheering on the destruction of a giant straw goat?

The birds may have won 2023, but I believe in humanity's capability for arson for 2024 <3

a vote for me is a vote for arson! This message was approved by hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavle is SUCH a public service and holiday feature

what's more tumblr than comical destruction and holidays?

sometimes you just gotta vote with your matchsticks

Bringing a cultural staple to tumblr since 2021

Arson is so much more fun

It would be really funny and ironic if it survives the tournament

you have no idea how much joy watching the chronicling of the gavlebocken brings me every year

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet provides an essential public service

always love seeing a bit of Swedish history on my dash 'Swedish bamboo season'

the goat account is peak gimmick blog

If I don't get to beat the goat then nobody does. -pointless-achievements

Never ask Tumblr to choose between lies and arson! The winner threatens by nature to rip apart the very fabric of our DNA!

goat statues made out of straw are exciting and interesting

I wanna see things burn

the goat is an essential part of tumblr culture and the goat blog is a sacred keeper of the tumblr high holidays

watching to see if the big straw goat has burned down each year is a true delight, something I never knew existed until tumblr and the blog dedicated to it

the incredibly focused nature of @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is what makes their gimmick superior.

Please guys bite gavlebocken

Look, I'm Danish. I was put on this earth to annoy the Swedes and vice versa, but even I voted for @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavlebocken is also such a fun name and this blog informed be about its existence, so for that I am grateful

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is providing a vital service! Every year, people rely on their updates regarding the fate of our most beloved Yule Goat! How could they NOT deserve the win!?

sacred anti-corporate arson

a vote for gävlebocken is a vote for anarchy!

pls vote for them they're the funniest gimmick keeping track on the funniest phenomena in recent human history, like when i look at their acc i think to myself this is what tumblr was created for

the goat is the GOAT

HASGAVLEBOCKENBURNEDDOWNYET DESERVES TO WIN, I have them on post alert for a REASON

the holiday season wouldn't be the same without them

they do important reporting. Do you look at the news and be like 'the reporters aren't doing work they're just telling you whats happening.' Have some respect for the goat news

let the weird burnt sacrificial ritual of it all appeal to you

nothing makes my December more interesting, arson should win

doesn't barge in on other peoples posts which is always a good thing in my books. not a fan when obnoxious gimmick blogs turn a decent post into a garbled mess

[wrenwinchester]

Guys, I had an idea. A science experiment of sorts.

Multiple separate games of telephone. One set played solely by neurotypicals. Another played solely by neurodivergents, another with a 50/50 split, a group with just 1 nd in a group of nt, and vis versa, give all the same phrase. I just want to see the results. Maybe other differing percentages of mixed groups. I’m curious.

[gyuuberryy]

no doubt !

loser!enhypen's reaction to your confession + their down bad behaviour

genre: completely fluff, slight crack

warnings: self doubt, very little stuttering

note: live, laugh, love hot loser men

word count: 2.3k

i love reading your comments and reblogs, so please do so if you liked reading this<3

HEESEUNG

heeseung was the guy who always sat in the back of the library, oversized hoodie pulled up and earbuds blasting lo-fi playlists. not because he was trying to look cool and aloof—he just didn’t know how to talk to people. heeseung’s whole vibe screamed ‘leave me alone’, and yet, you were drawn to him. maybe it was the way his big glasses always slid down his nose or how he’d stammer when the librarian asked if he needed help. there was a sweetness to his awkwardness, a genuine quality that made him stand out(not to mention how devastatingly handsome he was).

you started leaving him little sticky notes on the library desk when he wasn’t looking, simple messages like “nice doodles!” or “your handwriting is cute<3” the day he caught you in the act, his face turned the color of a ripe tomato.

“you think my handwriting’s c-cute?” he stuttered, practically vibrating with nervous energy.

a bit nervous, you laughed and nodded. “yeah, i do. and i think you’re cute too.”

heeseung froze, his pen dropping to the table. “wait, you… you think i’m cute?” he sounded so disbelieving it was almost funny.

when you confessed that you liked him, he spent two weeks in disbelief, constantly asking if you were joking. but after you assured him that no, you weren’t pulling some cruel prank, he became utterly devoted. he’d text you good morning every day, walk you to your classes while carrying your books (even when you insisted you could manage), and write you poetry—the kind of cringe, over-the-top poetry that made your heart melt anyway.

heeseung was the kind of boyfriend who’d get embarrassingly jealous but try to hide it. if someone so much as glanced at you for too long, he’d fidget nervously and mumble something about how they were probably just admiring how amazing you were. and if you hugged him in public? forget it. he’d be grinning like an idiot for the rest of the day.

when he wasn’t nervously doting on you, he was daydreaming about your future together. he’d scribble little sketches of the two of you in his notebook, complete with hearts and statements like “me + you = forever.” if you teased him about it, he’d turn beet red and try to deny it, but you could see the tiny smile playing on his lips.

rest is under the cut!

JAY

jay was the guy in your science class who thought he could blend in by keeping his head down. what he didn’t realize was that his nervous habits were endearing: the way he’d mumble answers to himself during group work or adjust his glasses every 30 seconds. he was always sketching random diagrams in his notebook—half for class, half because he was too awkward to make conversation.

you had a crush on him because, despite his shyness, there was something magnetic about the way he focused—his brows furrowing as he sketched diagrams in his notebook, the faintest pout forming on his lips when he was deep in concentration. one time, you caught him organizing the classroom supplies, his long fingers deftly sorting through tape dispensers and markers while muttering something about order.

when you mentioned you liked him, jay blinked at you like he couldn’t comprehend the words. “me? like me, me?” he asked, pointing to himself.

you nodded, trying not to giggle at how wide his eyes had gotten. “yes, you. i think you’re really sweet.”

jay’s face turned a deep shade of red, and he immediately started rambling. “i mean, i… uh, wow, okay, i didn’t expect this. are you sure? like, really sure? because i’m kind of a mess, and—”

once it clicked, though, he was all in. he’d send you paragraphs of text apologizing if he thought he said something wrong, shower you with small, thoughtful gifts (like your favorite snacks or a plant he’d researched how to care for), and eventually worked up the courage to hold your hand—though he’d sweat buckets the entire time.

jay would also start making lists—actual, physical lists—of things he could do to make you happy. “compliment her at least once a day,” “remember her favorite coffee order!,” and “learn how to not be a complete dork >:(” were scrawled on a sticky note tucked into his notebook. and when he wasn’t nervously doting on you, he was daydreaming about you, doodling your initials in the margins of his notes.

very soon, he was down-bad for you, which was evident through his real life and his social media activities. he’d post the cheesiest captions about you, like “can’t believe i’m dating the most amazing person in the world” with a blurry photo of the two of you. his friends teased him mercilessly, but he didn’t care. to him, you were worth every bit of embarrassment. late at night, he’d re-read your old texts and smile like an idiot, convinced he was the luckiest person alive.

JAKE

jake was a lovable mess. he wore mismatched socks, always seemed to forget his pencil, and somehow managed to trip over air at least once a day. his “plan” to talk to you involved him awkwardly hovering near your desk and pretending to need help with math problems he already knew how to solve. you knew from the start he was a bit of a loser—but that’s exactly why you liked him along with you finding everything he did adorable.

“wait, wait,” he said when you told him you were into him. “you like me? like, romantically? or is this a ‘pity me’ situation?”

after realizing you genuinely liked him, jake became a golden retriever in human form. he’d facetime you at random hours just to say hi, take you on chaotic “dates” that involved him occasionally tripping over things in public, nervously ordering food for you both and all silly fun activities like arcade games and amusement parks. it was never a dull day with him! after your first kiss, he couldn’t stop grinning for hours, texting his friends in all caps: “GUYS I JUST KISSED THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AAHJKHSSSK”

jake’s down-bad behavior reached new levels when he started making playlists for every possible mood you might have: “songs to cheer you up,” “songs that remind me of you<3,” and even “songs to study to (but only if you want to study with me):3” he’d even text you mid-class to tell you he missed you, even if you’d just seen each other that morning.

jake was also the kind of boyfriend who’d insist on carrying your bag even when it was clear it was too heavy for him. “i’ve got this!” he’d say, wincing slightly but refusing to let you take it back. and if you ever mentioned feeling sad or stressed, he’d immediately panic, asking, “what can i do? tell me, and i’ll do it!” he’d even write you little notes with nerdy jokes or doodles to make you smile, slipping them into your locker or bag for you to find later.

SUNGHOON

sunghoon thought he was slick, but his ‘cool guy’ act was so transparent it was almost cute. he’d lean against the lockers during breaks, pretending not to notice you, but the way his ears turned red every time you walked by gave him away. despite his awkward attempts at being aloof, you found his loser tendencies adorable: like how he’d secretly google pickup lines but chicken out before using them.

when you confessed your feelings, he genuinely choked. “wait, you like me? oh wow… you have bad- I MEAN great taste ahem.” he spent a solid week trying to act nonchalant, but once you started dating, his loser side came out full force. he’d ask you to “rate his outfits” before dates, send you selfies captioned “just thinking about you bbg,” and blush furiously every time you complimented him. sunghoon may have tried to act smooth, but deep down, he was utterly whipped.

sunghoon would also start practicing ways to compliment you in the mirror—only to mess it up completely when the time came. “y-you look… uh, very… beautiful? no, wait, gorgeous! that’s the word i meant!” and everytime you smiled at him, he’d be texting his friends, “she smiled at me again!!!!! i’m gonna pass out.”

his devotion extended to doing the smallest things for you, like bringing you your favorite drink or snacks without you asking. he’d even memorise your schedule so he could “accidentally” bump into you between classes, claiming it was coincidence even though the timing was suspiciously perfect. at night, he’d lay awake replaying your conversations, smiling at the ceiling like the lovesick fool he was.

SUNOO

you had noticed sunoo always sitting at the edge of friend groups, laughing along but never quite joining in. he was bubbly and fun but had an air of self-doubt that made him endearing. you started noticing how he’d always bring extra snacks to share with classmates or go out of his way to compliment people—little acts of kindness that made your heart flutter. not to mention his angelic beauty, that had you look twice the first time you had seen him standing near the water cooler awkwardly.

it was hard not to develop a crush and when you told sunoo you liked him, he’d blink in disbelief. “no way. you’re joking, right?” but after realising you were serious, he’d giggle nervously and hide his face in his hands. once you started dating, he became the most attentive boyfriend ever, remembering every small detail about you and hyping you up like you were the main character. he’d also send you cheesy tiktoks at 2 a.m. with captions like, “this is so us babe ><”

sunoo was head over heels for you, the literal epitome of “she fell first but he fell harder”. he did adorable things like creating a secret pinterest board filled with date ideas and texting you pictures of cute animals with captions like, “look, it’s us in 50 years!” he also started learning how to bake just so he could surprise you with your favorite treats—though most of his attempts ended in chaotic, flour-covered disasters.

if you ever seemed upset, sunoo would go into full panic mode, showering you with compliments and doing everything in his power to cheer you up. “you’re the most amazing person i’ve ever met,” he’d say earnestly, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. he even kept a list on his phone of all the things you’d mentioned liking, just so he could surprise you when you least expected it.

JUNGWON

jungwon was the class president who seemed to have it all together—but his close friends knew better. he was the guy who’d trip over his words during speeches, carry five planners because he kept losing them, and stress over things like forgetting to bring tape for a poster project. you liked him because, despite his loser-ish tendencies, he had a heart of gold and worked hard to make everyone feel included.

when you told him you had a crush on him, jungwon’s first reaction was to nervously laugh. “wait, me? are you sure? why would you do that to yourself!?” once he accepted that you really liked him, he became the sweetest boyfriend imaginable. he’d plan thoughtful dates (that inevitably went slightly wrong but ended up being more fun because of it), leave you encouraging notes in your locker, and get adorably flustered every time you kissed him.

jungwon also started creating “motivational speeches” for you, writing them out on notecards and practicing in the mirror before giving them. “i believe in you,” he’d say earnestly, fumbling to hand you a little note that said, “you’re amazing, and don’t you forget it.” if you teased him about it, he’d bury his face in his hands and mumble, “stop, you’re embarrassing me…”

his love didn’t stop there. he’d stay up late researching ways to make your life easier, like creating color-coded study guides or finding fun new spots to take you on dates. and if anyone dared to speak poorly of you, jungwon would step up, surprising everyone with his sudden fierceness. “they don’t know what they’re talking about,” he’d say, his tone protective and unwavering.

NI-KI

ni-ki was the quiet gamer boy who’d rather blend into the background than be noticed. he wore the same hoodie every other day and constantly had earbuds in, even when they weren’t playing anything. you liked him because of how unpretentious he was—and how his eyes lit up whenever he talked about something he loved, like a new game or a random meme he found hilarious.

when you told him you were into him, ni-ki almost dropped his controller. his eyes narrowed into a glare, “are you sure you’re not messing with me? did jake tell you about my crush?” after he realised what he had said, he immediately scampered away leaving you standing there confused. once he got over his initial shock, he became your biggest simp. he’d send you memes that reminded him of you, let you beat him at games (even though he’d deny it), and randomly text you “you’re so pretty” at the most unexpected times. around his friends, he’d brag about you non-stop, showing off pictures of you with a proud grin.

once he was down bad for you, he became hell bent on learning how to cook your favorite meals—even though he’d never cooked before in his life. “how hard can it be?” he’d say, only to panic five minutes in and call you for help. he also started staying up late to design matching gamer tags for the two of you, insisting that everyone online needed to know you were his.

in quiet moments, ni-ki would open up about how much you meant to him, his voice soft and a little shaky. “i don’t know what i did to deserve you, but i’m not letting go.” and if you ever showed up to surprise him during his gaming sessions, he’d immediately log off, saying, “sorry, guys, my priority is here,” as he turned his full attention to you.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

taglist: @soobnuuy @senascoooop @moafloribunda @lunalovesstories

@firstclassjaylee @levandright @fancypeacepersona @mirouie

@gaonashi @firstclassjaylee @kkamismom12 @evandsolo

[kuiinncedes]

i complaining :c

[aajjks]

The Biology of a Crush (m)

synopsis. teaching your sex crazed housemate about biology… came with it perks.

genre: crack, 18+.

pairings: jungkook x fem reader.

warnings: tèàchíng trôpê, crîngê jûngkôôk, hôrnÿ jûngkôôk, tsûndêrê ÿn, sêxûâl jôkês, ônê bêd trôpê, hê jûst wânts tô hît ît wîth ÿôû ând lîvê hâppîlÿ êvêr âftêr. MÁKÏNG OÜT

note. If this flops- oh well. But if this becomes a hit, I will make it a series hehe, photo credits to owner, found it on Pinterest. OMG ENJOY! He’s back to terrorize us all. He’s so fucking stupid.

•••

Here he is again.

Jungkook stumbles into your room like a lost puppy who’s been smacked in the face with a fucking textbook, eyes glassy, hair a mess like he just fought with a blender.

“Hey, uh, biology homework,” he mumbles, slouching against your doorframe like it owes him money. “what the fuck even is a mitochondrion? sounds like a droid from star wars or some shit.”

You stare. seriously? he’s asking you this now? the guy who probably thinks photosynthesis is a type of vegan snack.

“it’s the powerhouse of the cell,” you say, holding back a laugh. “basic shit, dude. your brain is the problem here.”

He scratches his head, smirking like he’s about to drop some next-level wisdom.

“powerhouse, huh? so… if mitochondria is the powerhouse, does that make me the power bottom? ’cause honestly, i’m running out of energy just thinking about this.”

You choke on your laugh. he’s already off to a terrible start and somehow has made it dirtier than the biology teacher probably intended.

“power bottom?” you say, eyes narrowing. “are you seriously turning cell organelles into your sex playlist?”

He shrugs, completely unapologetic. “hey, gotta keep it interesting. mitochondria’s got stamina, just like me.”

you roll your eyes so hard it feels like they might pop out. “you need help with actual homework, not your creepy-ass fantasies.”

he grins like a brat who just won a round. “oh, you’re helping. you’re gonna tutor me, and i’m gonna make it worth your while. biology and a show. deal?”

you blink. “i’m not signing up for your half-assed biology fuckery and your horny jokes.”

He winks. “too late, i’m already here.”

Ugh.

you try to focus but he’s leaning way too close, breath smelling like a mix of beer and bad decisions.

“so, mitochondria again— it’s like the battery, right? but what if the cell’s battery is low? does it need a recharge, or… can it just call me?”

“dude,” you snap, “put the damn homework down before you start asking if mitochondria has a dick.”

he laughs, shaking his head like he’s in his own private comedy club. “nah, but if it did, i bet it’d be massive and full of energy. probably the biggest organelle in the cell.”

you groan. “please, for the love of god, don’t make everything about dicks.”

he shrugs, voice dropping to a mock serious whisper. “biology is sex, babe. it’s all about reproduction, growth, and… fucking.”

“you’re impossible.”

he grins, clearly proud. “impossible to resist.”

you shove him playfully. “get your dumb ass back to the kitchen and let me study.”

“only if you promise to tutor me and let me use you as a reference,” he smirks, eyebrow raised.

you laugh, already knowing you’re fucked.

you slam the biology book on the desk, giving him the most serious look you can muster.

“alright, genius. mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. now, write that shit down before you forget it because i’m not repeating myself.”

he squints at the book like it’s written in ancient hieroglyphs. “powerhouse. power… house. does that mean the mitochondria throws ragers?”

you raise an eyebrow. “yeah, a rager where your dumbass finally learns some science.”

he snickers. “bet it invites the nucleus and the ribosomes. hey, does the nucleus wear the pants in this cell relationship?”

you groan, rubbing your temples. “please, stop anthropomorphizing cells like they’re your stupid roommates.”

“can’t help it, i’m just relating, you know?” he shrugs, then leans closer with that dumb grin. “so if mitochondria’s the powerhouse, can it power my dick too? ’cause sometimes it feels like it’s running on empty.”

you smack his arm. “stop talking about your dick and focus.”

he nods, pretending to be serious for a second before whispering, “but seriously, if my dick had a mitochondria, it’d be unstoppable.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “i’m never letting you cheat on this homework.”

“no worries, babe, i’m all yours. mitochondria and all.”

Ew.

You roll your eyes again, pulling out a pen. “write ‘mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell’ ten times.”

“fuck,” he groans, “this is worse than leg day.”

you grin. “welcome to adulthood.”

he starts writing, but you catch him daydreaming, eyes glazed over, fingers twitching like he’s imagining something dirty.

“what are you thinking about now?” you ask, smirking.

he snaps out of it, cheeks pink. “uh, nothing! just… how much mitochondria you got powering you up, babe.”

“oh my god,” you laugh. “you are a lost cause.”

“yeah, but a sexy lost cause,” he says, smirking again, clearly enjoying himself.

you sit beside him, nudging him with your shoulder. “fine, but you’re finishing this before i let you near me tonight.”

“deal. but just so you know,” he leans in, voice low and lazy, “the only power i want tonight is you.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

“get back to homework, dickhead.”

“yes, ma’am,” he says, mock-saluting before picking up the pen again.

he’s hunched over the desk, tongue poking out like a damn cartoon character concentrating way too hard on the biology worksheet in front of him. the pages are already covered in messy scribbles, but every line looks like a toddler attacked it with a crayon.

“okay,” he mutters, “mitochondria… powerhouse of the cell… right?”

you peek over his shoulder and blink. “is that a ‘p’ or the start of a swear word?”

he snorts, “shut up, it’s hard to write with these big-ass hands.”

you lean in, eyes narrowing at the page. “and what the hell is this? powerhouse of the hell? you sure you’re not mixing up your biology with your fantasy?”

he grins sheepishly. “maybe i’m just telling it like it is.”

you laugh but grab the pen, fixing the letters. “write it properly, or you’re gonna fail for real.”

“fine, fine.” he tries again but then scratches his head and smirks. “hey, do you think the nucleus ever gets jealous it’s not the powerhouse? like, why do mitochondria get all the glory?”

you roll your eyes so hard you swear they’re gonna get stuck. “are you seriously making up cell drama right now?”

“hey, cells got feelings too,” he deadpans. “probably.”

he goes back to writing, but his penmanship is such a disaster you can barely read it. then he suddenly freezes, tapping the pen against his lips.

“wait, what’s this chlorophyll thing? green stuff, right?”

you nod. “yeah, it helps plants make food from sunlight.”

his eyes widen, and he leans back like he just discovered the meaning of life. “damn. so plants are basically tiny solar panels?”

you laugh so hard you almost spill your drink. “exactly.”

he grins, “see? i’m learning!”

but then he smirks devilishly and adds, “you know what else gets powered by sunlight? my dick. it’s solar-powered too, babe.”

you smack his arm. “stop. just… stop.”

he chuckles, biting his lip. “can’t help it, my brain’s stuck on sex.”

you lean closer, whispering, “maybe that’s why your handwriting’s so fucked up.”

“hey!” he protests. “it’s all part of my charm.”

you grin, shaking your head. “your charm is a disaster wrapped in abs.”

he winks. “and you love it.”

you watch him scribble more messy notes, your heart doing that annoying flutter because yeah..

Maybe he’s dumb as hell but he’s your, chaotic, horny mess and all of a roommate.. or a housemate more likely.

•••

His face is scrunched like he’s deciphering an ancient text instead of a simple biology worksheet.

His handwriting looks like a toddler attacked a spaghetti plate with a pen words barely legible, letters wildly inconsistent in size and shape.

“okay,” he groans, “so… the cell membrane is like a… what? a bouncer?”

you stare at him. “a bouncer? what the actual fuck?”

he grins, waving his hands around. “yeah! it lets the good stuff in and kicks the bad shit out. makes sense, right?”

you lean back, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “sure, if your cell was a shitty nightclub.”

he winks. “exactly. ‘cause you know i’m the bouncer of your heart.”

you roll your eyes but your lips twitch. “alright, fine, Mr. Bouncer, what’s next?”

he flips the page, scratching his head. “uhh… mitochondria… power… house… of…”

you lean over again and squint at the messy letters. “you wrote ‘powerhouse of the hell.’”

he shrugs, “yeah, biology’s hardcore.”

Goodness, he’s so fucking dumb. It’s like you’re losing your own brain cells.

you snap, “okay, listen here you dumbass if you get this right, I will fucking make out with you. no backing out.”

his eyes flick up like a kid who just got candy. “deal.”

you watch as he stares at the question like it’s a cryptic riddle. “mitochondria… is the… um… energy… club?”

you snort, “club? seriously?”

he nods proudly. “yeah! like the mitochondria’s the hottest club where all the energy parties happen.”

you burst out laughing. “jesus christ, you are hopeless.”

he grins, cheeks flushed. “hey, at least it’s memorable.”

you shake your head, trying not to melt because holy hell, the mix of his dumb ass and that stupid grin is somehow your kryptonite.

he leans back, flexing dramatically. “alright, smarty pants, your turn explain photosynthesis so i can copy it and pass.”

you smirk. “fine, but only if you say ‘photosynthesis’ in your sexy voice.”

he clears his throat and purrs, “photo-syn-the-sis.”

you giggle. “close enough.”

he starts copying your notes, but then stops suddenly, looking up at you with those big brown eyes. “you know, if i get a good grade on this, maybe you could give me a little extra credit…”

you raise an eyebrow. “oh yeah? and what’s that supposed to look like?”

he leans forward, voice dropping low, “like… maybe a reward involving your lips on mine.”

you smirk wickedly, “jesus, i’m supposed to tutor you, not get a boner.”

he laughs, “Hey, can’t help it, you’re a distraction.”

you shake your head, pretending to be annoyed, but secretly loving the whole damn mess. “okay, back to the stupid homework, you bumbler, or you’re gonna fail and lose that reward.”

he groans but gets back to scribbling, only to pause and say, “hey, can you teach me the biology of kissing next?”

you grin, “oh God, we are so doomed.”

•••

he’s hunched over the desk again, hair a total mess, hoodie pulled up like he’s ready for battle. for once, the pen’s actually moving, and you can see he’s trying— kinda but those smudges and crossed-out words tell the real story.

“okay,” he mutters, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth like he’s concentrating hard, “so… photosynthesis… plants take sunlight… and turn it into… food… or something.”

you bite back a laugh. “you’re so close, dumbass. it’s sugar, not food. plants make glucose.”

he nods, writing it down, but then pauses and grins like he just had a brilliant idea. “so… if i get this right, do i get to put my tongue inside your throat?”

WTF?

you stop mid-sentence, stare at him like he’s lost his damn mind. “excuse me? what the hell kind of motivation is that?”

he shrugs, cheeks pink. “i’m just saying, i’m a motivated student now.”

you snort, shaking your head. “okay, first lesson — keep your filthy mouth on the page, not on me.”

he grins wider, eyes sparkling with mischief. “no promises.”

you lean forward, smirking. “you really wanna learn? then prove it.”

he taps his pen on the paper, looking like he’s thinking hard, but you can tell his mind is racing between biology and imagining exactly how he’d do that tongue thing.

“alright,” he says slowly, “so photosynthesis happens in the chloroplasts, right? and… they use sunlight, water, and CO2 to make glucose and oxygen.”

you blink. “holy shit. that’s actually right.”

he beams like he just won the goddamn Nobel Prize. “see? motivated.”

you lean back, trying to hide the stupid smile creeping up your face. “fine. but don’t think this means you get to start practicing your tongue skills anytime soon.”

he pouts. “a girl can dream.”

you mock sigh, “jesus christ, you’re hopeless.”

he snickers, then suddenly leans in a little closer, voice low and teasing, “hey, maybe if i ace this, you could give me a private tutoring session… you know, to help me… practice.”

you roll your eyes but can’t deny the heat spreading through you. “fuck, you’re impossible.”

he grins like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and honestly?

you kinda love it.

he stares at the last question, fingers trembling like a damn kid on Christmas, then scribbles the answer with way too much confidence. “done.”

you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “let me see that.”

he hands over the paper like it’s a trophy, chest puffed out, eyes bright.

you skim it quickly, and holy shit, he actually got everything right.

“fuck,” you breathe, stunned. “you really did it.”

he stands, puffing his chest up like a damn peacock. “soooo… that means you owe me a kiss.”

you smirk, eyes narrowing. “roughly.”

he grins like he just won the world’s hottest prize, then lunges forward before you can second-guess yourself.

his lips hit yours hard and fast no fuckin hesitation, no gentle warning.

It’s chaotic, messy, like he’s trying to make up for every moment he’s been a pain in your ass.

his mouth is warm, teeth accidentally grazing yours and making you gasp.

“shit,” he mumbles against your lips, tongue darting out to swipe over the seam, hungry and a little desperate.

you pull back just enough to smirk, breath hot against his skin.

“wow, someone’s starved.”

he chuckles low, voice thick. “you have no idea.” he’s horny you will regret this.

his hands grip your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. his fingers dig in, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

he’s rough, a little greedy— biting your bottom lip, then drags his teeth down your neck like it’s a goddamn battlefield.

But fuck, it feels so good. Too good.

you try to push him away, but honestly? you don’t want to. his sloppy, needy kiss is exactly the chaos you didn’t know you craved.

he pulls back just enough to breathe, forehead resting on yours, lips swollen and pink.

“that good?” he asks, voice ragged.

you smirk, brushing a thumb over his jaw. “yeah, dumbass. you just might be worth the homework help after all.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with all the filthy promises he hasn’t said yet.

“next question,” he says, “how about a second round?”

and just like that, you’re both drowning in the mess of him — the jokes, the chaos, the absolute, undeniable chemistry.

•••

You don’t even know how it escalated this fast.

One second he was holding up his tragic excuse of a biology worksheet— smudged ink, questionably phallic doodles on the margins, answers like

“probably bones n stuff” and the next, you were pushing him up against the couch, calling him the dumbest smart guy you’ve ever met.

And now?

Now he’s kissing you like he’s been starved.

“mhmm.”

His hands are everywhere— gripping your hips like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you, pressing you flush against him like he wants to merge bodies, like biology is this.

You gasp against his mouth when his teeth scrape just a little too rough on your bottom lip, and that’s when it happens.

That noise.

“Nghh yeah.”

A full-on, real, no-holding-back, filthy little moan that leaves his mouth before he even realizes it.

And the moment he does?

“Did you…” You pull back just slightly, blinking. “Did you just moan?”

He freezes. Wide-eyed.

Flushed.

Embarrassed but trying so hard not to show it.

“I— no, that wasn’t a moan,” he lies. Badly. “That was a uh… a groan. Like a manly groan. Like a victorious warrior finally conquering his greatest battle.”

You stare at him.

“In your biology homework?”

“Yes.”

He clears his throat, but it’s still scratchy from moaning. “I’ve unlocked the secret of life. And it’s your lips. Very educational.”

You snort— actually snort and push him back down on the couch. He lands with a dramatic oof and a hand still gripping your waist.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, cheeks warm.

“And you,” he says, smirking up at you from below, “are contractually obligated to kiss me again because I solved a whole-ass worksheet. I even spelled mitochondria right.”

You squint. “Barely.”

“Still counts.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re already leaning in again. Because his lips are soft, and he’s still looking at you like he’s half a second away from combusting, and fine— maybe he earned this.

Just this once.

Maybe.

(Probably not. But he doesn’t need to know that.)

[7-wonders]

Hot Doctor Boyfriend

Dr. Jack Abbot x GN!reader

Summary: PTMC's in a tizzy over the admission of one of the city's biggest stars to the ER. Jack realizes that introductions, and explanations, are going to need to be made.

Word count: 2.5k

A note from the author: I'm not a medical professional and thus know nothing about how fast CT scanners can be made available. I also believe that sports injuries are sent to an actual imaging center the next day and not to the ER, but it made for a fun plot so please don't come for me on any of this. Thank you to the 150+ of you who voted that you wanted to see this trope in particular, and to the over 300 of you who voted on the poll in general!

In his personal life, Jack Abbot is not one to put much belief into superstitions. Black cats crossing paths, not opening umbrellas indoors, tossing salt over the shoulder—it’s never made sense to him why these have become rituals that are so ingrained in society. He’s a man of science and logic, and science and logic dictate that superstitions are fanciful and have no influence over events that may or may not happen in one’s life.

In his work life, though? Oh, superstitions are very much to be believed and adhered to. Saying that it’s too quiet while on a shift is a recipe for disaster. Full moons almost always bring out the crazy in everyone. For whatever reason, the hospital defies those carefully-held beliefs in science and logic and becomes something otherworldly. Jack’s certainly not about to ruin the careful balance that an emergency department achieves, and so he fastidiously follows these superstitions the moment that he clocks in.

He’s in late tonight, having used a couple of hours of PTO to attend a niece’s choir concert. The moment that he hits the ER floor, though, he’s wondering if he should have taken the whole night off instead. People are acting weird tonight. Huddling around in loose groups, giggling and talking, spreading information amongst themselves. They all keep looking a certain direction too, almost like they’re waiting for someone, or something, to appear. Even when he passes, they only bother to look busy for a few seconds before going back to their previous states.

By the time he reaches the ER floor desk, he’s feeling thoroughly rattled.

“Did the moon suddenly go from waxing to full during the duration of my walk from the parking lot to the ER?” Jack asks the assembled staff.

Mary, tonight’s charge nurse, shakes her head and smiles. “Nope. Full moon is still another fourteen days away.”

“Couldn’t tell. Why are they acting like this…all the–the whispering and shit? I hate it when they do that; feels like they’re conspiring against me.”

“We have a VIP in the ER tonight.”

Jack’s brows furrow. “Myrna’s back already?” Though Myrna’s a frequent flyer, coming back a mere two hours after discharge would be a new record for her.

“Nope. An actual VIP.”

He thinks for a couple of seconds, trying to decide who would be important enough to have an entire floor of medical professionals—people who have enough degrees combined to bring a thermometer up to triple digits—acting like nervy teens. “Okay, you’ve hooked me. Who’s disrupting our orderly chaos?”

Mary leans over the desk, eyes bright and a grin playing at her lips. “Sidney Crosby is sitting in North 3 right now.”

“What?”

Hockey is not the most popular sport in America. In fact, out of the four big professional sports leagues in the US, hockey is at the bottom. But one would have to be living under a rock to be in Pittsburgh and not know who Sidney Crosby is. He’s the city’s sweetheart; not only is he one hell of a hockey player, but he’s also a great guy. How many times has Jack seen something on the news about him donating his money or his time to local causes? How many times has he gone semi-viral for playing street hockey with random groups of children?

“Hold on,” he says, hastily grabbing a tablet from the charging docks. Not because he doesn’t believe Mary (he doesn’t make it a point to question any of the nurses, who regularly save his ass), but because he’s wondering what the hell one of the most decorated hockey players of the 21st century did to land in PTMC’s ER. Even as he reads, Mary verbalizes his chart for him.

“He was chasing a puck behind the net during tonight’s game against the Panthers and took a hard check. The training staff pretty quickly diagnosed shoulder dislocation, but they obviously don’t have the right imaging equipment at PPG. He arrived with one of the trainers, and they’re waiting for a doctor now after yours truly took vitals.”

“And you didn’t accost him or anything? I’ve seen those hockey romance novels you read,” Jack smirks.

Across from him, Mary flushes red. “I only fangirled a little bit, thank you very much.”

As his brain begins to catch up with what the commotion in the ER actually means, Jack’s own excitement fades a little. If Sidney Crosby’s here, and if he got injured during a game, then chances are that means—

“Guess we’re doing this now,” he says with a sigh, earning the curious eyes of those around him. 

“Doc, you alright?” Shen asks, pausing in his walk from one bay to the next.

“Just fine.” He looks over the interns and residents who aren’t currently on a case, deciding which one won’t lose all professionalism the moment they’re faced with a veritable star. “Santos, you’re with me.”

Santos stares at him, the energy drink she was planning on taking a sip from paused halfway to her lips. The residents are on only their second week of night shift and are still getting used to life on the dark side, including the quirks of their new boss. Shen says he scares them, but that’s ridiculous; they all worked the PittFest mass cas with him just fine!

(Although…maybe that’s why they’re a little wary? The fact that the one and only time they interacted with him was during a pretty traumatic event where he was barking out orders? Oh well, that’s a conversation for his next therapy appointment.)

“Me?” Santos points to herself.

He has to fight himself from rolling his eyes. “Unless there’s somebody else here named Santos?”

“No, no sir.” She loops her stethoscope around her neck again and hurries after Jack, already halfway to North 3.

He pauses just outside of the doors and pretends to check the tablet in his hands, taking a quick moment to prepare himself for the finality of what comes next. When he and Santos enter the room, he goes against his medical instincts and doesn’t immediately greet the patient.

“Y’know, if you missed me that much, you didn’t have to have somebody stage an injury to see me,” he says.

From the chair next to the hospital bed, you smile. “What can I say, handsome? Our schedules haven’t meshed recently, I needed to get your attention somehow.” 

The two others in the room are watching the exchange with the intensity and confusion of a novice attending Wimbledon. They’re both trying to figure out dynamics here, wondering what’s led to this moment where one seeming stranger is talking to another like they intimately know each other.

Finally, the hospital’s own VIP speaks. “Wait, is this hot doctor boyfriend?”

Though Jack isn’t facing her, he can hear Santos’s gasp as a surprised, “Boyfriend?” falls from her mouth.

You sputter while trying to remember how words work, and Jack laughs. “That was said to you in confidence, man!” you complain.

Jack steps closer to the bed and holds out his hand. “I guess that’s me. Dr. Jack Abbot.”

Sidney Crosby (the part of Jack that’s watched hockey since he was a little kid sitting in the den with his dad tries not to start freaking out) raises the hand that’s not currently in a sling to shake Jack’s. “Sidney. Call me Sid.”

He’s a little too starstruck to feel comfortable calling him a nickname like Sid, but it’s nice to have a friendly patient every once in a while.

Behind him, Santos’s thumbs surreptitiously tap on her phone, surely letting every resident in this hospital know that Jack Abbot is off the market. Jack rolls his neck, looks at Santos until she realizes she’s been caught and puts her phone in her scrubs pocket, and gets to work as best as he can.

“It’s already in your chart, but I want to hear it from you,” Jack says. “How’d you end up in the sling?”

“Jarry dumped a puck behind the net that couldn’t be iced. I went to chase after it and got checked, but hit the boards wrong. Felt a popping and pain right away, which is never good,” Sidney explains.

“I’m guessing this isn’t your first dislocation?” Jack asks, helping to remove the sling so he can examine the injury.

“Far from it.” Sidney’s scoff is cut off by a pained groan when Jack begins to feel the joint. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt like a bitch.”

“You need some meds?”

“We administered 600 milligrams of ibuprofen at the arena,” you supply. “A little morphine wouldn’t hurt.”

“Santos?” Jack turns to look at the resident.

“On it,” she says, already heading to grab the needed supplies.

“Your staff is diagnosing it as a dislocation, too?” Jack asks you.

“Like Sid said, he reported his pain as immediate and swelling has continued since the incident, which are two of the biggest indicators for dislocation. A preliminary exam at the rink says dislocation as well. We’re confident in that diagnosis but need imaging to confirm,” you report.

Santos, who’s returned with morphine and is working on drawing it up, looks at you. “You’re a doctor, too?”

You shake your head. “Athletic trainer. I work for the Penguins.”

“Nice.” She grins as she injects the morphine through the IV (Jack’s not sure if she’s smiling at your career or getting to do tasks related to her job). 

Sidney relaxes almost immediately, the morphine quickly going to work. Jack takes the opportunity to finish his exam, confirming what everybody’s expected. “Your shoulder’s definitely dislocated. I’ll push you to the front of the CT line, and pending results, we’ll hopefully be able to pop it back in within the hour.”

Jack grabs the tablet and puts in the orders, adding, “Yes, it’s THAT Sidney Crosby” in the ‘notes’ section in the hopes that radiology will actually take him seriously.

“I gotta know,” Sidney asks you, “how did you and hot doctor boyfriend meet?”

“You remember when the front office gave us all tickets to the Steelers game in September?” He nods. “I was tailgating with some friends from marketing when a fight broke out in the spot next to ours. Fists started swinging and one almost got me when I turned around to see what was going on. Jack pulled me out of the way just in time.”

“I was a goner the moment you reared around with your fists raised like you thought I was going to fight you,” Jack recalls fondly.

You’re about to respond when your phone buzzes, and you look down. Though you don’t say anything, Sidney seems to already know what you’re looking at and grins.

“Tanger or Geno?” Sidney guesses.

You laugh lightly. “Tanger. Wanting to know if they’ve popped the shoulder back in yet.”

“Didn’t the game just finish?” Santos asks.

“Ten minutes ago, if that. Kris Letang’s an impatient one.”

“Holy shit, that’s so cool,” Santos whispers under her breath from the biohazard disposal receptacle near the sink, a rare crack in the badass persona she tries so hard to maintain at work.

“We win?” Sidney wonders.

“2-1,” you confirm.

Mary knocks before popping her head into the room. “CT’s ready.”

“Santos, go with?” Jack steps towards her and lowers his voice. “Make sure that nobody hassles him.”

She nods and takes one side of the bed, a couple of members of the transport team taking the other. You rise from the chair and move to Sidney’s side, stealing his phone and other personal items so that he doesn’t have to worry about them getting lost (or, god forbid, stolen by some superfan working tonight).

“You’re in good hands, okay?” you reassure. “See you soon, Sid.”

He gives you a halfhearted wave and then is gone. The room, so quickly full of life as doctors and nurses filed in and out to provide care, has gone quiet just as fast.

Just another day in the ER. 

Now that it’s silent, Jack gets the joy of focusing his full attention on you for the first time today. To his pleasure, he finds you looking at him already, eyes and smile both soft.

“Hi,” you greet.

“Hi.” It’s breaking so many hospital protocols to give you a kiss, but he can’t resist a quick one. Not when you’re standing there in your team-issued quarter-zip and ice-friendly tennis shoes, looking very professional (Robby’s right—he really is whipped). “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too. How was Reneé’s concert?”

Jack smiles, pleased that you remembered. “Good! She killed her solo.”

“Oh good, I know you said she was nervous…” you trail off, looking over Jack’s shoulder and out the door. “Why are they staring?”

When he turns his head, he sees a small group of residents and interns curiously peering inside to see that Jack Abbot does have a life outside of work. Of course, they all scatter like marbles upon realizing that they’ve been caught. Javadi’s the last one to run, stuck like a deer in headlights until Mohan pulls her along. “I…may have not told anybody except for Robby and a couple of close friends here that I was seeing someone.”

“Jack!” You sound scandalized, but he can tell by the grin you sport that there’s no offense behind it. “We’ve been dating for six months now.” 

“I’m not in the business of telling everybody my business. And you’re one to talk! I’m just ‘hot doctor boyfriend’ when you’re at work?” He can’t help but smile as he says it, from both the name and the fact that somebody cares about him enough to call him such a thing.

“Hot doctor boyfriend is fun to say! Adds some mystery to my life. Plus, hockey players are terrible gossips. It gives them something to talk about.”

“Maybe I was trying to do the same. Add some mystery to my life.”

You roll your eyes, knowing that he’s full of shit. “Sure, Mr. Brick Wall.”

“I think I prefer hot doctor boyfriend.” He earns himself a kiss for that. Screw propriety, he thinks as he leans in and steals a couple more precious seconds. 

“We should go out there,” you murmur against his lips, “they’re gonna think we’re hiding.”

Jack sighs before pulling away, knowing that you’re right. “Or, and hear me out, we just stay here, away from the interns, and wait for Sidney to get back.”

Your eyes catch somebody else outside. “Aw, but he looks nice!” 

Whitaker waves, sandwich in hand. When Jack shoots a stern look through the doorway, he quickly scurries off.

“You’re being too social for my taste,” he complains.

“Blame it on still being in work mode.” He can understand why a person would need to be personable in a stadium with almost 20,000 screaming fans, and he does not envy you at all.

“You and I have very different definitions of work mode.”

“My sweet, anti-social man,” you coo, patting his cheek affectionately before taking his hand and leading him to the door against his better judgment. “C’mon, let’s go say hi to everyone before Sid gets back and we both have to be professionals again.”

[chatonfils]

Starting off by saying I hate “mom Danny” bc it tends to be p transphobic and misgendering, so if anyone adds it to my post I’m blocking them.

Tim making his Kon clone baby, but the cloning chamber isn’t stable enough for the fetus. He’s desperately trying anything that he think might work, when he comes across Phantom. Phantom who has experience with stabilizing clones.

Danny had heard whispers through the grapevine (Ellie who’d joined the Teen Titans as Phantasm) that there was someone attempting to make clones. He’d only meant to snoop and see if it was a Vlad situation. If any clones had been made and needed liberating. What he found was a newly minted Red Robin crying over a red blinking message on a cloning chamber. He warbled a quiet “please, Kon, I don’t want to live without you.”

Danny quickly realizing this wasn’t an attempt to replace and destroy, but actually someone grieving, in probably an unhealthy way, but who was Danny to judge, he’d once replaced Sam and Tucker with robots for less. So he decided to help Red Robin out. Sure, he hadn’t dealt with kryptonian dna before, but he was at least 89% sure halfa dna was way more complicated. And Red Robin had already figured out ways around the dna shenanigans, it was just the stability that wasn’t going well. Honestly, he didn’t think it would be as easy as an ecto dejecto like it had been for Ellie. But his parents had a lot of inventions that they’d started making to help out ghosts, once they’d realized Danny was Phantom. Maybe telling Red Robin about ghost IVF wasn’t his most thought through plan.

“I think what might help is an incubator.” Phantom had suggested.

Tim could only gesture at the cloning chambers that had failed him thus far. They were essentially huge incubators.

Phantom awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “I meant, like, a living incubator. Like a surrogate.”

“Where am I going to find someone that I not only trust to carry the baby, but also would volunteer?” Tim raised an eyebrow at him. Hell, had Tim had the equipment to do so, he would have carried the baby, everything else be damned. He just didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Phantom blushed green and looked away. “It might take a little tinkering with the embryos to work with the physiology, but…. I could carry the baby for you. I mean, I’m trans, and even if I wasn’t, ghosts are kind of malleable in a reproductive sense. And there are options for IVF in ghost science. And like, my own clone is like my little sister. I’m also a protection spirit, so I would protect the baby with my entire afterlife. And I’m kind of rambling so you should say something before I embarrass myself.”

“You would be willing to carry a baby for me?” Tim was shell shocked by the offer.

“I mean, yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not cloning him for a malicious reason. You’re just trying to bring back a piece of your friend because you love and miss him. Dedication that strong for someone who has left the living plain, is admirable. You realized early on that you wouldn’t be able to increase the speed in which the clone grew. You’ve been trying despite knowing that this clone will be a baby that’s going to be your child, and not just the friend you lost. And I wouldn’t mind giving up my body for a little bit so you can make your family.”

Tim certainly hadn’t meant to surge forward and kiss Phantom. “Thank you.” Tim pulled Phantom into a fierce hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

It took about a month for them to work out the kinks of making the baby safe for Danny’s body. In this time, Danny showing Red Robin his human form, and Tim revealing his own identity. It felt kind of wrong to keep his name from someone he intended to get pregnant with his child. Tim and Danny got close as they worked together on the baby. And there may have been a few more kisses shared between them. In the end, the baby ended up spliced with mostly Kon’s dna, some of Tim’s (to stabilize the kryptonian dna), and some of Danny’s (to keep the baby safe in the womb).

Once Danny was well and truly pregnant, he encouraged Tim to find Bruce. “I’ll keep the baby safe. You find your dad. If you need me for anything, I’m only a call away.” Tim hadn’t forgotten about Bruce, he’d just never thought it would take so long to set up cloning Kon. So much of his hurt and loneliness had fallen away in Danny’s presence, and Danny had let him hyper focus on making their baby.

“Probably terrible timing, but I’ve got to ask,” Tim swallowed nervously. “Be my boyfriend?”

Danny’s lopsided smile, thawed Tim’s nerves. “I think I could work with that. I hope you don’t mind kids though, I’m kind of pregnant.”

Tim huffed a laugh. “I’ll keep in touch while I’m away. Please keep me updated on the baby.”

Danny pulled him into a proper kiss, “I will.”

I’m mostly imagining Tim getting bump update photos and falling in love with his increasingly pregnant boyfriend, while he finds Bruce.

I’m also imagining after Bruce is back, Tim being like, “anyways gtg, my boyfriend is in his third trimester and I don’t want to miss the birth of our baby.” And peacing out before any bats could react, let alone stop him.

And also maybe when Kon comes back, there’s maybe a poly relationship started.

Also thinking about Tim getting Danny pregnant without the science.

Danny gets Dad, Tim gets Papa, and if Kon joins, he gets Poppy.

[bruisedboys]

Aaaaand okay I swear I’m about to shut up but I know steve rogers is your bf and you’re slowly converting me so can I please request him with the prompt “you're blurring your words together, time for bed”? He’s just so. Bossy <3

HI MAEE omg I love you for this thank you!! also yep mhm I need him to boss me around. for science x join the celly!

steve rogers x fem!reader, 1.1k words

Steve comes home from his week-long mission bruised and exhausted, his chest aching for you. You’re all he wants after a week away. As much as he loves his team, you’re the only person he wants to see after spending seven days straight with Nat, Sam, and Bucky.

You’re not hard to find. He pushes the front door shut, and he’s shouldering his pack off when he hears footsteps from the hall.

“Steve?”

A second later you appear from around the corner, looking pretty as ever, clad in your flower-print pyjama pants and one of Steve’s old shirts. He grins.

“Hi, honey.”

You beam and throw yourself at him. Steve gets his arms around your waist and hugs you so hard he lifts you off the ground, your arms locked around his neck like a vice. He breathes you in — you smell amazing, the peach shampoo he bought you last week lingering in your hair, mingled with that soft lemony laundry powder you always use on your clothes. He’s so happy to see you he forgets to speak, until you fill the silence,

“I missed you so much,” you say into his neck.

Steve puts you down, grinning like a madman, hands greedy on your warm body. “I missed you too, sweetheart. Come on, let me see you.”

He steals his arm from around your waist and gets his hand on your jaw, encouraging you back. He holds you a few inches from his chest and leans away so he can look at you properly. You smile up at him, all sorts of pretty, your hair messy and your face all dewy like you’ve just washed it. He’s missed you so, so badly. He thumbs your cheek.

“How’d you get prettier while I was gone, hm?” Steve murmurs, and while he will admit to purposefully flirting, he totally means it. He imagined your face plenty of times while he was away, but it could never compare to how you look right now.

You flush. “Steve.”

Steve’s chest aches. He loves the way you say his name, all flustered like that. Egged on now, he doubles down. “Seriously, honey, it was only a week,” he says, feigning disbelief. “Can’t you give a guy a break?”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, and hide your face in his chest, hands screwed into the sides of his jacket.

Steve laughs, giddy with fondness. “Hey, that’s not fair. I haven’t seen you all week and now you’re hiding from me? Come out,” he says firmly.

You emerge then, still flustered, but your lovesick smile mirrors Steve’s own. Steve curves his arm tighter around your waist and dips down to kiss you on the mouth. You push up into the kiss like you were waiting for it, your lips warm and soft, tasting of mint. Steve, too eager and somehow still unaware of his strength, accidentally holds you so tight you’re forced up onto your tiptoes from the pressure of it. But you only hum against his mouth, content to be manhandled. Steve decides he’s never going on another mission again.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

When he pulls away, you’re flushed as ever.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, but you make it sound like I love you, too.

Steve just grins. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “C’mon, let’s sit down and you can tell me about your week.”

He guides you to the living room, half carrying you. You’re clinging to his arm like a leech, seeming unwilling to let him go. Steve’s not complaining. He doesn’t want to let go either, not for a long time.

“Did you eat yet?” You ask him on the way to the couch.

Steve nods. “Yeah, babe. Ate on the way home.” He knew if he came home without having eaten, you’d insist on making him something, despite the late hour. Besides, Sam insisted on stopping for Mexican on the way back.

Steve sits on the couch and tugs you down with him. You end up sitting sideways in his lap, your knees bent up in front of your chest, looking like everything Steve’s ever wanted. He holds your waist and tries not to smother you right then and there. He wants to hear about your week, every detail.

“Tell me what you did this week,” he says, rubbing big circles into your back.

You smile at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, and press one hand to his chest. Steve’s heart thud thud thuds like it wants out. He’d let it jump right out and land in your hands, if he could.

“Okay,” you say. You push your hand up his shoulder to hold his neck. “So, after you left on Monday, I…”

You launch into an explanation of the week, sparing no details — you know by now that when Steve wants to hear about something, he wants to hear everything. Meanwhile Steve listens, half super eager to take in everything you’re saying, half mesmerised into a quiet lull by how lovely you look in his lap like this, your hand slowly trudging up into his hair as you talk.

You tell him about work, about how you went and looked at cats at the adoption shelter on Tuesday, about the new pasta recipe you made last night, and that there’s leftovers in the fridge if you want some, baby. He listens until you start to droop, your body slowly slumping into his chest.

“And then, yest’day I got the groceries,” you’re saying, your words slurring together at the ends like you’ve got a spoonful of honey in your mouth. “But they didn’t hav’any of that chocolate you like, Steve, so I went to th’store out by…by—“

You cut yourself off with a deep yawn, your shoulders rolling back languidly. Steve rubs your back.

“Honey,” he says, both amused and so, so fond.

You blink at him. “Hm?”

Steve gets his hand under your jaw and tilts you to look at him. You look like you’re doing a great deal to keep your eyes from falling shut. He pushes his hand down to your shoulder and thumbs your collarbone.

“You’re blurring your words together,” he tells you. “Time for bed?”

You frown. “Wasn’t finished,” you say, looking somewhat put out.

Steve laughs softly through his nose. You’re so cute he could eat you.

“S’okay. You can finish telling me tomorrow, yeah?” He strokes hair from your neck gently, his other hand pushing under your shirt to feel your warm skin. He spreads his hand over the small of your back. “You’re tired, babe.”

His touching seems to have the effect he hoped for — you practically melt in his lap, your shoulders going lax as you lean into him.

“Okay,” you say, compliant as putty in his hands.

Steve takes you to bed. He leaves you under the covers while he brushes his teeth and gets changed, assuming you’ll be asleep by the time he’s done. But when he slides into bed next to you, you reach for him.

“Missed you,” you murmur softly, pushing your arm across his chest in the dark.

Steve is so full of fondness he can barely get the words out, but he manages. “Missed you, too.”

[lilhughesy]

Sunshine Smiles | Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

warnings! slow burn (ish), friends to lovers, mentions of harrassment (please skip this one if this makes you comfortable!), underaged drinking, fighting, brief mention of blood, toxic ex boyfriend. word count: 13.2k

summary: Luke and Y/N have been best friends after sharing a science class together, and always have been just friends... right? They go through the adventures of high school together, dating other people but it never seems to work out because what if the person they have been looking for has been right in front of them this whole time?

a/n: oh boy, this one has been in the works for a while, especially with having 8 final exams this month! but here we go! first Lukey fic! I hope you like It <3

You and Luke met in sophomore year of high school, you had biology together and sat beside one another in the seating arrangement. The two of you would make small talk at the start of every class, the casual “how are you?” or “did you watch last night’s game?” but not anything more than that. It wasn’t until you noticed him struggling with the genetics unit where you asked him if he needed help.

Usually, the two of you would sit quietly and scribble down notes into your booklets throughout class. Luke with one ear bud in while the teacher talked. He was pretty good at keeping up with the material being taught, but with his hockey season picking up — both the school’s team and his club team, he started slowing down.

You noticed how he would space out about 15 minutes into the lesson, often looking towards a spot on the ceiling rather than at the whiteboard. Minutes would pass before he would snap out of his daze temporarily before slipping back into his daydream. You couldn’t blame him though, biology first thing in the morning wasn’t pleasant.

“Do you want to copy my notes?”

His eyes widened at your question before he nodded, “Please, that would be great.”

“Do you have time during lunch? I assume your schedule is pretty busy after school.” You asked him, towards the end of the period, “I’m flexible for basically anything.”

“Yeah, lunch works for me or after school on like Thursdays and Sundays — I don’t have any practices then.”

You scribbled down your phone number on the corner of your page before tearing it and handing it to him, “Sounds good! Just text me.” You said with an easy smile.

The tips of his ears turned a faint shade of pink as he took the slip of paper from your hands. He hummed a small response before turning back to focus on the teacher.

Well, realistically, he was flustered that you gave him your number that quickly. Luke had expecting you to give your Instagram or Snapchat, like any other high school student would do. You weren’t extremely popular in your grade, but that doesn’t mean that people didn’t know you. People knew you as the sweet girl, you constantly wore a smile and treated everyone you talked to like a friend. Everyone was comfortable around you, and honestly no one had anything bad to say about you. Other than the girls who were jealous of your easygoing personality that had different guys talking to you. Anything they said behind your back was typically dismissed, no one actually believed what they had to say about you.

Luke first noticed you in the midst of the fall semester of his freshman year. He saw you standing a few lockers down from his, talking to two of your friends. You laughed, your perfect teeth shining through at whatever your friend told you. One of his own friends, greeted you as he walked past you, “Hey Y/N! How have you been?”

“Hi Dylan, I’m good! How are you? How’s your sister liking college?” You asked back to him. The two making small talk before he waved goodbye and approached Luke,

“Hey Hughesy,” Dylan said, leaning on the locker door next to Luke’s, “Ready for geometry?”

“Yeah.” Luke nodded, following Dylan as he lead his way to the math wing. Luke looking behind him once to take another look at you before walking to his class. You looked at him when he did, and you gave him a small smile.

You made it look so easy, to know everyone who knew you. You made people feel seen, remembering small details from past conversations with them that others would have easily forgotten by then. Just like how Luke forgot that he had mentioned how he grew up in Toronto and enjoyed watching the Leafs play during a random conversation during ninth grade. You brought it up about two weeks into your shared biology class, asking him “Did you watch the Leafs game last night? It was a great game!” He was shocked, slightly confused, that you knew that he liked the Leafs. It allowed you two to fall into a short conversation before the lesson began that day.

After you started helping Luke out with catching up and understanding the biology lessons, the both of you became friends — outside of just being seat partners. He found himself texting you more frequently outside of school. Conversation came easy and they never felt forced, which he appreciated. They were never awkward or uncomfortable, it was like you two knew each other for years.

You two had shared two more classes in the spring semester of tenth grade, quickly falling back into routine of being study buddies. He claimed it was to help him stay on top of schoolwork because he was so busy with hockey. In reality, he knew it was because he liked being around you and listening to you talk when you explained the topics to him. He swore that you taught significantly better than any of the teachers he had, something about the way you talked about it made it click in his head. Maybe it was because you managed to make a reference towards sports every time he was stumped, allowing him to grasp a better understanding of it.

Before either of you noticed, you became best friends. Considering how you two would spend your lunches in vacant classrooms to study, whether it be you teaching him or just hanging out together. You appreciated your new friend, Luke Hughes, who had actually took his time to get to know you. Of course you loved talking to other students in your year, but you weren’t blind to the fact that they didn’t really pay attention to you. Conversations often swirled around them and their lives, not so much your own. They never really cared to ask you about your break or the other things going on in your life. You didn’t really mind, you liked to keep to yourself.

Until it came to Luke, who got the time to know you for you. He knew that you also watched the Leafs since your mom grew up in Ontario, or how you would visit Canada during winter break each year to visit family, or even your slight obsession with Harry Potter. Luke learned that you didn’t like to wear your hair up often since you claimed to hate the way the end of your ponytails felt against the back of your neck — yet when it came to really focus on your work, your hair would be tied up to avoid strands getting into your line of vision. The conversations that flowed between the two of you were two way streets, not just the one way street that you had grown accustomed to.

As April came around, his hockey season started to trail to an end. Only allowing you two to have more time to hang out after school. The winter months had you two hanging out for an hour or two at either of your homes, typically working away at assignments beside each other. Now with the warmth of spring and less constraints of his busy hockey schedule, you two could do more together. With his home being significantly closer to the school than your own, you two would often walk to his house together once the end-of-day bell would ring.

He would kick around a rock on the sidewalks as the two of you talked. Sometimes it would be about your friends or his, other times it would be about random questions that you two would think about.

“Do you think that chicks in their eggs gain a sense of like consciousness which makes them want to break free of the egg?” You asked him, causing him to pause in his strides, “Like maybe they get super claustrophobic, you know?”

“What kind of question is that?” Luke laughed, before continuing his movements, “It is a good question though… Or it could be just a natural reaction or reflex to break free.”

You shrugged, “That too.”

Ellen loved having you around, she knew that you were a good influence on her youngest son. Her boys were never the academic type, always drawn towards activities like sports or games in general. She never expected for Luke to tell her about him spending lunches catching up on class notes or having a friend over to work on essays. She was surprised, to say the least, she expected him to be like his older brothers. Always hanging out with friends during lunch, complaining about having to do class work, or having friends over to play on the PlayStation and being typical teenage boys.

You were a bundle of joy and sunshine to her. Whenever you saw her, you would ask her about the book she recently read or ask her about what she was cooking in the kitchen. You were genuinely interested in conversations with her, not talking to her just to make a good impression.

“Hi honey!” Ellen’s voice sang out from the living room as you shut the front door behind you and Luke. He kicked off his beat air forces, placing them on the shoe rack,

“Hi mom, Y/N’s here too!” He told her. You following him towards the living room. She looked up from her phone, seeing her son and you standing in the doorway.

You smiled at her when she saw you, “Hi Ellen! How have you been? I’m sorry I came unannounced.”

She chuckled, placing her phone screen down on the coffee table, “You never have to worry about that, you know that I love having you here. Do you guys have any homework?”

Luke shook his head, “No not really, we caught up during lunch.”

“Wow, good for you two!” Ellen beamed, standing up from her seat, “Can I get you two something to eat as an afternoon snack?”

“We were planning on maybe walking over to the ice cream shop in a bit,” Luke explained to her, trailing behind his mom when she made her way into the kitchen.

“Are you sure? I just went to the store and I loaded up on groceries.”

“It’s okay, mom. Thank you though!” Luke said to her, “We’re probably going to head to my room to hang out for a bit.”

Ellen hummed, waving you two off as Luke led you to his room. He tossed his school bag towards his desk before flopping onto his bed. You placed your bag next to his, settling for his chair,

“So,” He propped himself on his elbows to look at you, “What’s up with you and Josh lately?”

You blushed at the mention of the boy’s name. He was on the lacrosse team at school and was in your shared English class with Luke. Josh knew you since middle school and started to talk to you more recently because of your shared lessons. You liked Josh as friend prior to this year, he was always nice to you and gave you his notes on days you were absent. It wasn’t until this year, when he seemed to have his teenage glow up with him getting a lot taller and growing out his blonde hair, where you started noticing him more than just a classmate.

“Nothing really,” You told Luke, who only raised a single brow, “We’ve just been talking.”

“Right,” Luke chuckled, tilting his head to the side, “So it has nothing to do with his long hair now and his defined jawline?”

Your face turned red, “What?! No, why would- If anything it sounds like you have a crush on him!”

“Who said anything about having a crush on Josh?” He teased, knowing he managed to put you into a corner.

“Wha- I just- I didn’t- I meant,” You sputtered out, before covering your face with your hands in embarrassment, “Okay fine! Maybe I have a bit of a crush on him.”

Luke laughed, his neck craning back, “Oh this is too good!”

“Shut up!” You whined, face still hidden away from the boy, “You act like you haven’t been talking Mallory!”

It was his turn to become flustered, “We aren’t talking though?”

“Yes you two are! I see you checking your notifications every five minutes, you waiting for her snap reply.” You giggled as his ears turned more red.

“I do not!”

“Yes you do!”

Luke groaned in defeat, “Can we call a truce on this?”

“Fine, but if you decide to ask her out, you have to tell me.” You told him and he shook his head slightly as a brief laugh fell from his lips,

“Same goes to you then.” He grinned, you rolled your eyes playfully, “Let’s go get that ice cream now.”

Luke had asked Mallory out a few weeks after. She played on the school volleyball team, and she was what you considered popular in your grade. Her and Luke became the new ‘it’ couple when they became official at the end of April. The hockey star and the cute blonde volleyball player. You were so happy for him, being the one who stood in front of him minutes before he asked Mallory to be his girlfriend — you were giving him a pep talk and hyping him up, giving him the confidence he needed in that moment.

They were a cute couple, he would sit next to her at her table during lunch with all of her friends. Somewhat ditching you to be with Mallory. He had fit right in at the table of athletes, mixed of guys and girls. You never blamed him though, his priorities moved around and you knew that Luke spending every lunch with you in a quiet classroom wouldn’t sit well with his new girlfriend.

You liked Mallory, she’d give you small smiles in the hallway and give you brief ‘hello’s’ when she came by Luke’s locker midst conversation between you two. You gave them space, not wanting to wedge yourself into their relationship.

So you remained as the sweet sunshine girl, talking to new people during lunch hour since you would rather socialize than to sit alone in a classroom. People would come by for a few minutes to talk to you before leaving to be with their own friend groups. You were never a fan of the cafeteria, too much noise and the stereotypical cliques of high school being extremely evident in the large room. Different tables for different groups. You much rather walk around the school, stand in an area with a small group of friends before continuing your way.

One person who seemed to consistently keep you company was Josh, the lacrosse player you had grown to have feelings for. He would stay with you for a good while during lunch, often jogging a few steps towards you with a call of your name.

“Y/N!” You spun around to the sound of his voice, you feel a smile grow on your face when he approached you.

“Hi Josh,” You said, giving the boy a wave, “How were your classes?”

“They’re good! Hey, I was wondering if you were busy after school today?” He asked you as the two of you walked as a leisurely pace by the outdoor track.

You glanced at him, trying to hide your brewing excitement, “I don’t think so, why?”

Josh let out a nervous laugh, his hand running through his hair, “I was wondering if you’d like to come to my game today, and maybe go get food after?”

The two of you had stopped your walk just moments before, him now looking directly at you. Josh’s cheeks were tinted pink as he waited for you to respond,

“Yeah, I would like that.” You smiled, moving a loose strand of hair out of your face.

He beamed, “Awesome! Oh, and you can wear this too!”

Josh quickly moved off one strap of his backpack to rummage through it, handing you a navy jersey. You took it from him, holding it up in front of you to see your school name on the front along with his number and name on it.

“It might be a bit oversized, but I think you would look good in it! But, I guess you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” He rambled on, sort of laughing at himself whilst being embarrassed at his own behaviour.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm, “I’d love to.”

After that afternoon where you sat on the bleachers watching him play his game and the two of you going to a diner for a meal. He had finally asked you to be his girlfriend after multiple weeks of talking to each other in school and out of, hanging out together, and him walking you to your classes. You were ecstatic when he asked, feverishly nodding your head and excited giggles when you accepted.

You texted Luke later that night about it, he was happy for you. The two of you caught up for a little, given that you rarely spent time together anymore considering how things have changed. Neither of you seemed to want to talk about the shift in dynamic nor did either of you want to jeopardize your own or the other’s relationship.

Josh had stuck to your side since, walking around school with an arm around your shoulders to show off to everyone that you two were together. He brought you to his hangouts with his friends, where he kept you right next to him the entire time. Josh seemed to be more protective of you whenever you two would see Luke. Always pulling you closer or whispering something in your ear to distract you from the curly headed hockey player.

It was a few days before summer break, and for the first time since you started dating Josh, you were left alone. Given that his family had taken him on a trip, starting his summer break early this year. You stood by your locker at the end of the day, rearranging the things in your bag when a familiar person appeared next to you.

“Hey,” Luke said, leaning his back against the next locker, “Where’s Josh?”

You looked over to him, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Mallory had a doctor’s appointment.” Luke responded, now waiting for you to reply.

“Josh left for his family trip yesterday.” You explained to him while zipping your bag, “How have you been Lukey?”

He chuckled, following you towards the exit, “I’ve been good, I’m excited that it’s almost summer.”

“Me too,” You grinned at him, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm, “Any plans this summer? I’m assuming you have hockey camp like always?”

“You know it,” Luke’s eyes softening slightly at you remembering, “And we’re going to the lake house for the whole summer when Quinn flys back on Saturday.”

“That’s so exciting!” You bumping your shoulder to his, “How have you and Mallory been?”

“Good, she’s really great…” Luke paused before letting out a small sigh, “I’m sorry that we haven’t been hanging out and for me kinda ditching you for her.”

You waved your hand off, falling into your typical easy going mood, “Don’t worry about it! I know you have my back even if we don’t talk every day.”

Relief washed over his face, “Okay good, I was worried you were pissed off at me or something.”

“No, never! Besides I’ve been busy with Josh and being around him all the time, so you also have the opportunity to be mad at me.” You told him, “Are you mad at me?”

“At you?” He questioned, “Never.”

The two of you walked in a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. You reached the street intersection, both pausing momentarily,

“I would invite you over, mom has been asking about you and it’s been so long but you know…” Luke mumbled, “Mal wouldn’t be too happy.”

You gave him an understanding look, “Don’t worry, it’s not just Mallory who wouldn’t be happy about us hanging out.” You chuckled, referring to your protective boyfriend, “If I don’t see you before school ends, I hope you have a great summer, Lukey.”

He gives you a sad smile, “Thanks, Y/N. I hope you have a good summer too.”

You give him another short glance before heading your way back home. You hadn’t realized how much you missed Luke and hanging out with him. A sigh escaped your lips as you adjust the straps on your shoulders.

Luke watched you from his spot on the corner, seeing you slowly walk away to the direction of your home. In the similar head space, he wondered what happened to your friendship. Curious if neither of you were to be in a relationship, if you two would be heading towards his house in routine. He liked Mallory, of course he did. Though he somewhat hated that it was at the cost of your friendship. Luke knew that at the end of the day, you were always there for him — similar to how you acknowledged knowing that he had your back. He missed you nonetheless, he missed your random questions and the comfort of being in your solace.

He resented Josh, how he now had your full attention at all times. Luke would never say it out loud but he didn’t think Josh deserved you. He barely knew the lacrosse athlete but something about the way Josh carried himself, he knew something was off about him. Luke had just yet to put his finger on it.

Luke went home to see Jack already lounging on the couch, barely paying attention to the game on the screen and was much more interested in his phone.

“Hey Lukey,” Jack called out to his brother, Luke only mumbled a minimal response, “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” Luke sighed, grabbing his Gatorade bottle from the sleeve of his backpack and plopping into the empty spot next to the seventeen year old.

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed at Luke’s behaviour, “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s wrong with Lukey?” A voice asked, Quinn poking his head from the hall and entering the living room.

Luke’s head snapped up, breaking his focus on his water bottle, at his eldest brother’s voice, “What the hell?” Luke letting out a shocked chuckle, “What are you doing here, Q? I thought you were flying in on Saturday?”

Quinn grinned, pulling up Luke by his arm and hugging him, “Glad to know you missed me too.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Luke replied, embracing Quinn, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I got an earlier flight last minute,” He explained to the youngest Hughes, pulling away so the three brothers could sit. Quinn taking the single seater next to the couch, “What’s going on with you?”

Luke shrugged, knowing that he couldn’t lie to both of his brothers, “I don’t even know, it’s just Mallory doesn’t like me hanging out with Y/N.”

“Y/N, that’s the girl who’s been helping you with school?” Quinn asked, making sure he was understanding Luke’s situation properly.

Jack nodded, “Yeah, she’s really cool. I’ve met her a few times. She’d been helping Lukey with school, his grades have never been better.”

“Is she like your tutor?”

“No,” Luke shook his head, shifting further into his seat, “She became one of my best friends. She’s got like photographic memory, so she is really good at helping me with staying on top of everything.”

Quinn smiled, “You’re pretty lucky to have her then.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Q,” Jack said, catching his attention, “Y/N is cute too. She’s got that whole happy-go-lucky personality, Mom loves her too.”

“Oh really?” Quinn, raising his brows, “What, so you like her, J?”

Jack scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I wouldn’t date one of his friends, relax dude.”

The eldest brother rolled his eyes in amusement, knowing that Y/N being Luke’s friend was probably the only reason stopping Jack from shooting his shot. He turned his attention back to Luke, who was still slumping,

“How’s it like being with Mallory?” He asked, changing the subject slightly, “Mom mentioned her once or twice to me, saying something about wanting to meet her.”

“Yeah, is she coming to the lake with us?” Jack added, shifting his posture to face Luke, “I haven’t even met your girlfriend yet, why’s that?”

“I dunno,” Luke sighed, moving his hand to play with the curls at the back of his head, “She hasn’t told her parents yet about us dating and wants to wait to meet everyone until she tells them.”

“Oh,” Jack’s eyes widened, “She’s one of those girls… Didn’t you say she was pretty popular too?”

Luke shrugged, “Guess so.”

“Mhm, one of those girls,” Jack chuckled, leaning back and using one of his arms as a makeshift cushion for his head, “I wish you good luck, solider.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying, those girls have been trouble every time I’ve got mixed in with them,” Jack reasoned with his hands raised in surrender, “I, personally, would rather go for a girl like Y/N. She’s smart, she’s nice, friendly, sweet, and she’s pretty.”

“Sounds like you have a crush on Lukey’s best friend,” Quinn’s eyes having a glint of his teasing manner that matched his tone, “Is Y/N coming up to the lake house with us?”

“I didn’t ask her,” Luke told his brothers.

Jack pouted, “Why?”

“She’s probably headed to Toronto this summer.”

Quinn sat up, “Toronto?”

“Yeah, duel citizenship or something. Her mom is Canadian.” Luke said, like it was the most obvious answer.

“Even better, no wonder why she’s so nice! She’s Canadian!” Jack exclaimed, “What are you now going to tell me that she likes the Leafs too?”

Judging off the look Luke gave Jack, his eyes widened, “So, she’s perfect is what you’re saying!”

“Jack” Luke groaned, “Shut up dude.”

“How did you fumble that?!” Jack asked exacerbated, shaking his head as he adjusted the hat on his head, “It’s like you don’t listen to my advice when it comes to girls.”

Quinn, seeing Luke’s face, rolled his eyes, “Alright Rowdy, leave him alone.”

“She’s literally just my friend,” Luke told him, “She has boyfriend too, he’s obsessed with her.”

Jack mumbled something amongst the lines of ‘rightfully so’ under his breath. Eventually going back to his phone.

“So it’s just gonna be Caufield and Z this summer?” Quinn questioned, the middle brother nodding, “It’ll be good.”

Summer turned out great for the Hughes family lake house. The boys all enjoyed going out of the boat, wake surfing, swimming, and drinking then coming back to house in the late afternoon to shoot pool. It was their annual boys trip, taking the time to be around their friends and family while also enjoying off season. They would drive to the nearby arena to practice on days with Jimmy coaching them. Often spending the morning in the makeshift gym in their garage to get a workout in.

You on the other hand, decided to take some summer classes to get ahead on course credits — flying through the material. You also enjoyed working at the local coffee shop, gotten to meet new people and becoming friends with your regulars. Besides, it never hurt to have some extra money in your pocket. Josh came back from his month long trip, revolving around visiting his family, sometime towards the end of July. You two would hang out whenever you weren’t working. Spending time in your home, cuddling on the coach or in your bed, watching movies at the neighborhood drive in, and occasionally going up to his friends’ lake house on some weekends.

It was a productive summer overall, you couldn’t really complain. Hours on your resume plus seeing your boyfriend every day. You loved it. The only thing that was keeping getting under your skin was Josh hinting towards the two of you having yet to sleep together. You were freshly sixteen and you didn’t feel ready yet, you felt too young and you didn’t want to make a decision that you might regret.

Although you hid this from him and everyone else, deep down you wanted your first to be with someone you loved. Someone that you genuinely cared deeply about and had that connection with. It had to be with the right person. He told you he loved you, how he’ll never leave you, and that he wanted to marry you. Josh was nice, he was your boyfriend and you cared about him — but did you love him? You weren’t exactly certain about that yet. You didn’t feel the magnetic pull or the connection that you wanted for your first time. It was also too early, you’d only been together for about five months and dating for almost four of those months.

So, you kept brushing it off every time it was brought up: you had work later, you’re too tired, you didn’t feel well, your head hurt, your parents were on the way home, you’re on your period. The excuses kept coming. Even if you didn’t acknowledge it in your head, but the underlying fact was, you were not going to sleep with Josh.

“I have work tomorrow and I want to get a good night sleep.” You told your boyfriend, who was relaxed on the couch with an arm resting behind you, “I start early.”

“But baby it could help you sleep,” He replied, placing a tender kiss on your lips, “Your parents aren’t even home tonight.”

“I know but I’ve been exhausted from work.”

Josh gave you a small understanding smile, his lips forming into a straight line, “Alright babe, it’s okay.”

You kissed him again, your fingers playing with his dirty blonde hair at the nape of his neck, “Sorry baby.”

“I think I should head home then.” He sighed, standing up and stretching his shoulders, “You should get that sleep you’ve been waiting for.”

Your face faltered for a brief second, “Yeah okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

Josh only shrugged, “Maybe, might go hang out with the boys.”

He left soon after, leaving you alone in your home. You sighed, heading to your bathroom to shower and start getting ready for bed. The soft scent of strawberries filled the steamy bathroom as you shampooed your hair. The hot water running over your body as you stood under the stream. Your head was hurting, full of anxious thoughts and energy from Josh’s recent behaviour. You gave him the benefit of the doubt that this was just a phase he was going through. That he would eventually drop it and the two of you could continue on without the silent tension that existed between you. You didn’t know how long you stood under the shower head, before deciding to step out. The soft material of your towel patting down your skin before you applied your vanilla body lotion everywhere.

You relaxed in your bed, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire playing on your TV screen as you scrolled through your phone. Unexpectedly, you received a call which you picked up after the first ring,

“Hello?” You asked, still confused from the caller id.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi Lukey,” You said, fully aware that he could likely hear the smile through your voice, “How’s the lake house treating you?”

His voice was low and had a slight tinge to it, “Mallory and I broke up.”

You paused, “Oh my god, are you okay?”

There was some heavy breathing from his end, you knew that this must’ve just happened. You could hear some rustling, assuming that Luke was settling into his bed or the couch by the sounds of it.

“I- uh, I don’t even know.” He sighed, “She just called me and said she found someone new.” His voice breaking towards the end of his sentence before he cleared his throat.

You knew he was either on the verge of tears or was already crying, and your heart broke for the boy, “Oh, Luke…”

“Just wanted to talk to you,” Luke mumbled, “I hope I’m not keeping you or your parents awake by calling you.”

You chuckled lightly, classic Luke always so considerate, “No, not at all. I’m home alone and just watching a movie.”

“No Josh?”

“No, he left an hour or so ago.” You told him, shuffling down to lay on your back with your phone to your ear still.

Luke hummed, “How are you guys doing?”

He could hear you hesitate and how the air hitched in your throat, “G- Good. We’re fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Trying to keep up with the somewhat lie, before deciding that it was only Luke and you could tell him the truth, “Well maybe a bit rocky right now.”

You imagine him having an expression of confusion mixed with some curiosity, “Why’s that?”

“He keeps bringing up the idea of us sleeping together,” You told him, cringing slightly at your own words, “And I keep giving him excuses to not.”

“Sleeping together? Why wouldn’t you? I guess unless your parents don’t like you two sharing a bed?”

You laugh lightly at his innocence in that moment, “No, not like that sleeping together. Like the, having sex, type of sleeping together… Sorry if that’s TMI. And he’s just kinda gets upset everytime I make up an excuse.”

“He’s trying to sleep with you?”

“He’s just been asking about it,” You shuffle deeper into your blankets, “You make it sound bad when you say it like that.”

Luke lets out a brief scoff, a combination of disbelief and a pinch of frustration, “Is it not though? He should’ve just backed off after you told him no.”

“I think it’s just because his friends have been talking about losing their virginities. Can we just talk about something else? Please?”

“Yeah okay,” Luke replied, voice bland, “Just don’t do it because you feel pressured or anything, it’s not worth it.”

You sighed, knowing your best friend was in the right, “Yeah, I know.”

Luke sank further into his own bed, staring out the window as he spoke to you over the phone. He watched how the moonlight danced over the lake and how the stars twinkled in the night sky. He could hear the distant conversations between his brothers downstairs, not paying much attention to the conversation he was missing out on. Luke felt the strange surge of emotion that bubbled in his gut when you mentioned that your boyfriend was constantly asking you about sex. He knew that you were capable of making your own decisions, but it didn’t wave the bad feeling he felt.

School started, the warm September air with its nibble of the Fall breeze in the mornings. Luke had a few classes with you, allowing you to sit with your best friend — without worrying about Josh getting upset over it. Josh was very pleased to hear that Luke would be away all summer. He wasn’t the most keen of you two hanging out, having to ask you to spend less time with Luke and more time with your boyfriend. You promising Josh that you saw Luke as only a classmate, even if that wasn’t necessarily the truth.

You found yourself at a party on a Friday night, mainly because it was Josh who was hosting it. The entire junior and senior year were invited to it. A red solo cup in your hand, cradling it close to your body. Josh stayed right next to you, his hand dipping lower than your waist to squeeze your ass every so often. He kept you no further than an arm lengths away as he talked to his teammates around the pong table. Josh was a couple drinks deep, on occasion his words would slur.

Luke walked into the space with two of his own teammates from the school hockey team. His eyes landed on you, widening at the sight of you wearing a short skirt and a pink tank top. You gave him a small smile as he looked over to you while getting himself a drink.

He looked good. He always did. He wore a flannel over his grey hoodie and a baseball cap over his head of curls. He laughed at whatever his friends said to him, making you wish you were next to Luke at this party rather than Josh.

Josh’s hand toyed with the bottom of your shirt, “Hi baby.” He said to you, his eyes scanning over your figure, “Did I tell you that you look so hot tonight.”

Your cheeks heated up, “Thank you, baby.”

His lips landed on yours, kissing you passionately and pulling your body closer to his front. You kissed him back, placing your hands on the back of his neck. His arms wrapping tightly around your middle as he groaned into the kiss.

“Wanna go somewhere more private?” He whispered into your ear before kissing your jaw, “Don’t know if I want everyone here to watch us make out.”

You giggled, moving your head to give him more access, “Okay.”

Josh pulled away, looking at you. His pupils were dilated and were a bit glassy from the alcohol coursing through his body. His words were slurring together but other than that, he didn’t seem super drunk, “Okay, I’ll go up first and you come a few minutes after?”

You nodded before kissing him quickly, he grinned at you before walking away towards his room. You headed towards the kitchen to get yourself another drink. Weaving through the few bodies to reach the vodka bottle. You poured a bit of the alcohol into your cup before adding juice to it.

“Hey,” You looked to your side to see Luke there.

“Hi Luke,” You said to him, taking a long sip of your drink. Your face cringing slightly at the strong taste of the liqueur that burned the back of your throat.

He moved closer to your side, to hear you over the loud noises, “Where did Josh go?”

You pointed upstairs before giggling, curtesy to being tipsy leaning into your drunken state, “I’m meeting him up there soon.”

“How many drinks have you had?”

“Three? This is my fourth,” You told him, slurring your words slightly, “Or maybe my fifth. I forgot.”

Luke’s face now wore a small frown, “Are you drunk?”

“Me?!” You exclaimed, your voice louder than you were expecting it to be, “No, I’m not drunk.”

“You’re slurring your words.” He stated, crossing his arms over his chest, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Y/N.”

You huffed, slamming your cup onto the table, “I can do what I want.”

“I didn’t say that,” Luke sighed, “I’m just saying…”

“No.” You interrupted him, putting your finger into his face, “You just want to ruin my fun because Mallory broke up with you.”

You knew that you shouldn’t have said that. The air around you two thickened as you both paused. Your head felt like it was pulsing from the warmth of alcohol in your body. You didn’t even mean to say that, the words coming out of your mouth faster than you could process them. You cursed yourself mentally for saying something like that to Luke, who was only just standing next to you. You saw his face falter at you, an expression of hurt washing over his features for a brief moment before his masked it.

“Alright,” He mumbled, stepping away from you.

“I should go.” You sighed, moving past him. His hand wrapped around your wrist. Your skin tingled at his touch and a shiver ran down your spine. You glanced down at his hand holding you and back up to his face.

His eyes softened when your eyes connected, “Don’t have sex with him while you’re drunk.”

“Luke,”

“Promise me that you won’t.” He said gently, don’t daring to break the eye contact. You stared into his eyes, seeing the silent pleading behind them,

“Okay.”

Luke’s eyes darted over your face before he released your wrist from his hold. He watched as you made your way towards the staircase, seeing you glance over to him one last time before disappearing to the second floor of the house. He looked at his barely touched can, deciding to throw it out. He wasn’t in the mood anymore. Luke rejoined his friends, hoping to take his mind off the fact that his drunk best friend was upstairs in a room with her boyfriend — the boyfriend that kept giving him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey dude, you good?” Dylan asked the boy, giving him a gentle nudge. Luke snapped out of his daze,

“Yeah man, I’m good.” Luke nodded, giving Dylan a tight lipped smile, “Probably gonna head out in a bit, practice in the morning.”

Luke felt conflicted, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave or stay at the party. Part of him didn’t want to stick around, knowing you were upstairs with Josh but the other part of him wanted to stay because you were upstairs with Josh. What if you needed him and he wasn’t there?

He eventually decided on leaving, Jack coming to pick him up, “How was it?”

Luke shrugged, closing the car door and tilting his back against the headrest, “Can we just go home?”

“That bad?” Jack laughed, “I thought you said Y/N was gonna be here?”

“She was.” Luke mumbled while Jack started to drive, “She left with her boyfriend.”

Jack glanced over to his brother, giving him a knowing look. He expected that Luke had feelings for his best friend, it was hard not to like the girl. She was sweet, easygoing, and she was cute. With Luke freshly out of a relationship, Jack expected him to be a lot more down but it seemed as though having Y/N around kept Luke occupied. Jack opted to not say anything more to his younger brother.

Luke kept his distance from you a few days following the party, he wasn’t sure when and why his emotions towards you changed. He avoided your eye contact in class, answering your questions with short and bland sentences, and immediately leaving once the lesson ended. You sighed, closing your notebook as Luke had once again scrambled out of the classroom. You put your things into your bag before slinging a strap over your shoulders.

When you left the room, you spotted Josh leaning against the nearby lockers. You sharply inhaled at the sight of him, mentally groaning of his presence. It’s not that you were upset that he was waiting for you, per se… It just felt like as of recently, the two of you weren’t on the same page anymore. He was insistent on losing his virginity to you, talking about another one of his teammates losing theirs, and how he loved you so much and is wanting to take the next step with you. You on the other hand, would just brush off his words — you didn’t want this. He didn’t seem to understand either, which was the worst part. You often got to take your mind off of your crumbling relationship by hanging out with Luke during classes, but with him ignoring you lately, you didn’t get that either.

“Hi baby,” Josh grinned, immediately slithering an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his chest and attempted to kiss you.

“Josh, I told you not at school.” You scolded him, pushing him away, “You can do that after school, just not here.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes, “Oh come on, everyone already knows we’re together.”

“I don’t care,” You scoffed, already walking towards your next class, “I don’t like PDA and not everyone wants to see us making out in the hallways.”

Josh was right behind you, “Who cares what people think? I think it’s hot as fuck.” He smirked, his hands once again on your hips.

“Josh, please.” You sighed, brushing his hands off of you. He looked at you, almost with a smidge of disgust or maybe disappointment. You avoid his eye, looking anywhere but at him.

“Fine, have a good class.”

You let out a breath of relief as he turned around sharply, disappearing into the crowd of teenagers in the school hallways. You tightened your grip on your backpack strap, and tilting your head against the wall.

“You okay?” Glancing back towards the voice, you see Luke’s friend Dylan standing in front of you with concern over his features. You slowly nod,

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You told him, hoping that he’ll drop it. Dylan was nice, typical hockey player guy, but he had good intentions. Besides, he knew you were Luke’s best friend so nothing he did was with malicious intent.

“Okay…” Dylan said, still somewhat suspicious, “I’m here if you wanna talk though, Lukey too.”

“Thanks,” You replied, giving a tight smile, “How’s your hockey season going?”

He beamed at the mention of his sport, going onto talking your ear off about the most recent game as the two of you walked into your next class. You tried your best to keep up, but it was hard when you were thinking about Josh. You weren’t sure if you still wanted to be with him, you didn’t think relationships were supposed to be like this. Granted, this was your first 'official' relationship. You've had crushes in the past, been in a few talking stages, but at the end of the day — you were too much of a sweetheart and no guy wanted to be the one to break a sweet girl's heart. You and Dylan eventually make it to your biology class, sitting towards the back of the class waiting for the lesson to start. Luke walked in, right before the bell, plopping into the empty seat next to you. He gave Dylan a single nod before glancing at you,

"Hi Luke." You greeted, a warm smile on your face.

"Hey." He replied, rather plainly before shuffling through his bag for his notes. You wondered if something had happened at the party that caused him to act like this, the fact that you also didn't remember much of the party wasn't much help either. Waking up the next day with a raging migraine was a strong indicator of the amount of alcohol you consumed.

He continued to keep to himself, keeping himself occupied with the starting hockey season. The pressure was on with Jack officially playing for the Devils, and knowing that there were scouts from various colleges that were watching him play. Luke dived deep into his training, ensuring that he was eating and sleeping properly, and always coming early and staying later at practices. Quinn had teased Luke about his recent dedication to hockey as a response to being broken up with, calling it forbidden motivation. Luke only brushing off his brother's comments.

Luke wouldn't lie if he was asked whether he missed Y/N, of course he did. He was a smart person though, he knew he would only cause issues between you and your... boyfriend, if he continued to stick around. Plus you seemed happy, including how you was acting around him at that party.

But Luke didn't know about your second thoughts on your relationship with Josh, Luke didn't know that you weren't exactly happy with the lacrosse player.

"Luke!" You called out after him, seeing him a few feet ahead of you on the side walk. He paused in his steps, looking over his shoulder to see you jogging behind him,

"Oh hi, Y/N."

The two of you fell into a comfortable pace as you walked home from school, "Have you been avoiding me?"

"What?"

You chuckled, putting your AirPods back into their case, "I mean it feels like you're ignoring me, you barely even talk to me in class anymore."

He let out a sheepish laugh, running his fingers through his curls, "I've just been busy with hockey."

"Oh okay... So it wasn't because of what I did at that party a month ago?"

"No, I don't care about that. I know you didn't mean that and I don't care if you slept with him. It's not my business." Luke shrugged, still not looking at you even though you kept your focus on him.

"I didn't sleep with him." You told him, "I haven't yet."

"Good for you?"

"Luke..." You sighed, tugging at the sleeve of his sweatshirt, "C'mon, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing, I swear." He huffed, placing his hat back on his head, "Sorry, I have to go. I have practice."

You watched as he turned at the streetlight, making his way back to his house. You frowned at your interaction with him, still unsure of what was causing the distance between you and Luke.

It was now the weekend before Christmas break and you were yet again at another party. One of Josh's teammates was hosting it and it was packed in the small house. You came a bit later than most of the crowd, given that you had an afternoon shift at your job. You walked in, wearing a tight long sleeve with baggy jeans. Josh was nowhere to be found, so you decided to get yourself a drink.

You grabbed a cooler and poured yourself a double shot, you had to catch up to everyone else — who were all clearly intoxicated. You brought the shot glass to your lips, cringing at the strong taste of vodka running down your throat.

"Hey," Luke said to you, grabbing a beer for himself, "I didn't think I would see you here."

"Hi Luke," You give the boy a smile, "I didn't think that you would be here, given your hockey schedule."

He chuckled, "Yeah, practice was cancelled for tomorrow morning so Dylan asked me to show up."

"How have you been? Are Jack and Quinn coming back for Christmas?" You asked him while sipping from your cooler.

"Yeah, Quinn came back last night, Jack is in Jersey until Christmas. He has a Christmas game." He explained, "I've been alright though, sorry again for ignoring you, I was just going through some stuff."

"It's okay, I get it." You replied, a part of you sad that he was going through stuff and wasn't able to talk to you about it, "I'm here for you if you ever want to talk."

"Thanks. When do you leave for Toronto?" Luke bumping his shoulder against yours. You giggle, already feeling the effects from the two shots kicking in,

"The 26th."

"Y/N!" You and Luke's head snap to the shouting of your boyfriend’s voice, to see Josh leaning against the doorway. You could tell by the way he was standing and the look on his face that he was drunk, "What are you doing?"

You feel your shoulders drop, "Sorry, I was just getting a drink and catching up with Luke."

"Come on baby, let's go upstairs." He slurred, grabbing your arm rather harshly and pulling you behind him. You winced at the aggression, bowing your head as you followed him. You looked past your shoulder to see that Luke had pushed himself off of his leaning position against the counter, as Josh dragged you away.

"Not while you're drunk." He told you, though it was mainly you reading his lips due to the loud music. You nodded, "I know."

Luke couldn't shake the weird feeling building in his gut as he watched you get pulled away from your boyfriend. It was chewing him apart as he stood in his spot, contemplating of his next moves. He hesitated for a moment before he decided to go after you. Luke didn’t like how Josh had grabbed you and knowing that you were intoxicated.

“Hughes, where are you going?” Dylan called out after Luke, “Dude!”

Dylan, more inclined to get Luke towards the pong table followed after the taller boy. Luke’s feet led his way as he was still trapped in his own head, his feet carrying him up the steps when his blood went cold. He could hear your voice, your scared voice behind the door.

“J- Josh! Stop!” He heard you cry, “Get off!”

“Is that?” Dylan paused, glancing over at his friend.

Luke’s facial expression hardened before he used his shoulder to forcefully open the closed door, “What the hell is going on here?” He demanded, not thinking twice of his actions before approaching Josh and pulling him off of you.

“What the fuck man?!” Josh snapped, venom in his voice as he glared at the hockey player, “This isn’t a fucking gang bang!”

In front of him, there was you. You never looked so terrified in your life. Your hands were clutching onto your shirt, trembling. Your eyes were brimmed with tears.

“Get the hell away from her.” Luke told Josh, stepping towards him. Luke had a few inches over the lacrosse player, “Dylan, take Y/N.”

Dylan immediately darted towards you, his arms protecting you, “You’re okay, you’re safe. We got you.” He whispered into your ear as he pulled you away from the bed and into the hall. You were violently shaking in his arms while he guided you outside the house.

He continued his attempts to calm you down, though appreciated, you wanted your best friend.

You don’t know how long you and Dylan were outside, he had guided you towards a more quiet area near his car. Your heart was pounding in your ears, your chest felt hot with the adrenaline and alcohol circling in your system. You kept running your hands over each other, attempting to crack your fingers to sooth the anxiety surging in your veins.

Luke eventually walked outside, clearly still heated from the way his legs carried his body. He was glancing at his knuckles, stretching out his fingers and shaking out his hand. His eyes landed on you and his pace immediately picked up to a jog,

“Oh, Y/N…” He breathed out, opening his arms out for you.

You met him halfway, colliding your body into his — allowing for his strong arms to wrap around you like a shield. His scent, the woodsy musk with a tinge of mint, embedded in his clothes comforting you like a warm blanket. You could feel him place a kiss on the top of your hair when you choked on a few sobs,

“I got you.” He reassured, holding onto your smaller frame, “He’s never going to touch you or ever come near you again.”

“L- Luke,” You whimpered, peering up from his chest to look at him. His entire face softened at your tear stained cheeks, his thumb carefully brushing away your tears.

“I’m right here, sweet girl.” He told you, “I’m right here.”

Dylan had gotten into the car that he and Luke drove in to the party, Dylan also being the designated driver for the night. Luke held you in his arms until you seemed to calm down slightly, no longer crying nor shaking. He carefully helped you into the backseats, without a doubt sliding into the seat next to you.

The drive was silent, the occasional sniffle from you while you rested your head on Luke’s shoulder. He kept an arm around you the entire drive,

“Is your home okay?” He asked you, his tone gentle as ever while brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear.

“I don’t want to be alone.” You choked out. Luke immediately nodded, “It’s okay, you can stay at mine if that’s okay with you.”

You gave him a small smile.

Dylan dropped the two of you at Luke’s house, “Let me know if either of you need anything.” Dylan said to Luke as you two climbed out of the car, “I mean it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Luke replied, draping his flannel over your shoulders, “Thanks man.”

“No need to thank me.”

You mumbled out a quiet ‘thank you’ to Dylan before Luke led you to his home. He retrieve a few bottles of water from the kitchen before the two of you made his way to his room. You sat on his bed, focused on your lap while he pulled out a shirt and spare boxers for you.

“Do you want a hoodie?” He asked you, looking over at your saddened position. Luke knelt down to your level, taking your hands into his, “It’s over now. I promise I won’t let him ever come near you.”

“Luke,” You breathed out, noticing his already bruising hand, “Your knuckles…”

His gaze dropped from you to his hand, the dried blood over the swelling skin, “It’s not my blood, don’t worry.”

You eventually made your way to his bathroom, where he left the clothes and a clean towel on the counter. The hot water from the shower head ran over your cold skin, the feeling of his hands ghosting over your body. You tried scrubbing away the feeling again and again and again with Luke’s body wash; tears threatening to fall yet again as the skin turned red from irritation.

His clothes were warm when you slipped them on. They smelt so distinctly like Luke. You made your way back to his room where he was lounging on his bed with his pajamas on. His eyes glancing at the redness of your arms from the excessive force you used whilst washing yourself.

“Come,” He invited you, patting on the empty space of the bed. You crawled up to him, curling into a small ball before he handed you his favourite UMich hoodie, “Here’s a hoodie for you.”

You gave him a little smile while you pulled it on. The edges of the sleeves were thinning from the amount of wear and the drawstrings were tied into a small ball. It was well worn and a few sizes too big but it was perfect.

“Are you feeling a bit better? No, sorry that was a stupid fucking question,” Luke quickly apologized, his hand already going to play with your hair in a comforting manner, “Did the shower help at least?”

You hummed out a response, inching closer to him on the bed. He had your favourite Disney movie already on his TV, quietly playing. Luke adjusted the comforter over the two of you, allowing you to relax further into the bed as the two of you watched the film in a peaceful silence.

Your eyes got heavier and it was harder to keep them open as the exhaustion from the night was getting to you. Luke seemed to notice, “Let me know when you wanna sleep, I’ll head to Jack’s room or something.”

You poked your head up from the makeshift pillow of his chest at his sentence, “Can you stay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You confirmed, watching a content expression wash over his face, “Plus, you’re comfy and warm.”

“I’m glad that I’m at least good for one thing.” He chuckled, snuggling his head into his pillow once he knew that he didn’t have to move for the night.

You sighed, content for the first time since leaving the party. You knew you were perfectly safe when you were with Luke. You allowed your eyes to close, your breathing slowing to a relaxed and calm pace. His arm still around you while you used him as your pillow, tucking your body into his side.

Luke replayed what he saw from that room, from how scared you looked to when he shoved Josh against the wall before finally punching him in the face repeatedly. It was completely out of character for Luke to pick a fight, a physical fist fight. But he would do it for you, any day. Josh had no right to be that close to you, to scare you to the verge of tears. Luke felt himself slowly get more upset the more he thought about the situation, but he felt you shift against him. He looked down to see you, cuddled up against his body.

He smiled as he looked down at your figure, carefully using the remote to turn off his TV and grateful for having longer limbs to reach over to shut off his lamp. The room fell into darkness as he settled for sleep.

“Thank you Lukey,” You mumbled against the material of his shirt, “For everything.”

His heart swelled.

“I’ll always be there for you.” Luke whispered into your hair, planting a soft kiss against your forehead, “No matter what.”

And he was. He stayed glued to your side, whether it be physically or theoretically — due to the both of you separating for winter break. Luke texted you constantly, occasionally calling you in the evenings. When school started again in January, he didn’t leave your side. He waited for you at the street intersection every morning, so the two of you could walk the rest of the distance together. Josh only attempted to talk to you twice, which Luke and Dylan were immediately able to shut him down. Not even giving the lacrosse player a chance to even look at you. Luke would hang around you between classes and during lunch, slowly but surely falling back into your old routine.

Lunches spent in vacant classrooms to complete homework assignments together, going over to his house after school until he had to leave for practice. In which he would always drop you off at home, since he didn’t feel comfortable with you walking back. Sometimes you would go to his practices to do your homework in the stands, or just to simply watch him play the game he loved so much.

You were healing.

Luke was helping you heal.

He kept you company by staying on FaceTime on the nights that were harder for you. You two wouldn’t even be talking, just having each other propped up on the screen as you did different things. On some nights, he would drive to your house to pick you up — the two of you going on long drives with no destination in mind. Aimlessly driving down different roads, making turns here and there. His country playlist that you’ve grown to love so much would be humming in the background as the two of you would park in the middle of nowhere to talk. Even though you two were conjoined at the hip everyday, you both had endless things to talk about. It was so easy, it came so easy.

He would show up to your house every Saturday night with his Nike backpack filled with snacks for your movie nights. You two would lay on your bed comfortably, with a random movie or hockey game on the TV. Luke would have a lazy arm around your shoulders as you lean into his side, both of you cracking small jokes or commentating whatever was playing.

Sunday afternoons were reserved for finishing any leftover homework or class notes in the Hughes kitchen. The two of you would sit at the dinner table, writing away in your notebooks. Ellen would bring you two water or snacks on occasion, and remind you two to take breaks. During those breaks, Luke would often drag you to basement to try to teach you hockey. You weren’t great but it was fun to try, and it was better since you could physically see how much fun it was for him. He would wear a constant bright smile and laugh at your attempts to shoot a goal.

Luke Hughes was easily your favourite person, he was your favourite player on the ice. You wouldn’t miss a single game. You would sit next to Ellen and Jim in the stands, an old blanket draped across you and Ellen’s laps. He would wave at you from the ice each time he skated by.

Junior year had its highs and lows but it was by far your favourite so far. There was an end of year party that was coming up and Dylan had been begging you and Luke to go with him.

“Please! Everyone is going, we should definitely go.” Dylan explained to the two of you, “It’s the last one of junior year.”

“I don’t know,” Luke sighed, leaning back in his chair and placing his pencil down, “These parties are always so ass.”

You laughed at Luke’s comment, “I mean, if you really want us to be there Dyl, then I’m sure we can go.” You glanced over at the curly headed boy, his eyebrow raised slightly.

“See! Y/N knows what fun is!” Dylan exclaimed, “Come on Hughesy, worse case if you leave early.”

“Fine.” Luke huffed, straightening his posture, “We’ll go but I’m not drinking.”

“All good with me!” Dylan chuckled, “More for me.”

You, Dylan, and Luke all entered the house together, weaving through the bodies in the hallway to reach the main area of the house. Dylan had immediately gone towards the fridge to get a drink. You survey the crowd, trying to pin point people that you know. Luke stayed next to you, with a light hand on your lower back as the two of you weaved through the drunk teenagers.

You greeted a few people that you knew as you passed by, them being a bit too intoxicated to say anything more than a "hey!". There were people dancing in the middle of the living room, the neon colours from the LED lights flashing, and the music from the speakers pounding your eardrums.

"Did you want something to drink?" He asked into your ear, his posture slouched to near your height. You shrugged, "I'll start drinking in a bit."

You pulled Luke towards a more empty area, where the two of you could stand whilst leaning against the wall. Dylan had eventually found you both, him handing you a Twisted Tea which you thanked him for before cracking the tab open.

"I want to dance." You told the boys, "And I will need another drink."

"Sure, go have fun!" Dylan exclaimed, "We'll keep an eye on you if you want."

"Don't you want to dance too?" You questioned, finishing the rest of your drink.

Luke raised an eyebrow, "Since when have we ever danced at a party?"

You giggled, slowly pulling away from the two, "You can always join me!" You sang out.

"Have fun Y/N!"

You rolled your eyes in a playful manner as you spun on your heels to grab another cooler. There were a few girls from your English class that you chatted with while finishing your second drink, which the four of you had agreed to take a celebratory shot of tequila for finishing the semester — before you all made your way towards the group of dancing teens. The alcohol was flowing through your body, allowing you to feel the rhythm of the music and move your hips along to it.

"You are the coolest and nicest girl in our year, Y/N!" One girl, Abby, exclaimed with her voice loud to over come the volume of the music, "Like, seriously girl! You're so smart and you're so fun!"

"No literally!" Sarah laughed, placing a hand on your arm, "Like you're so popular but so humble about it! You literally have every boy on their knees for you. Josh completely fumbled with you!"

You let out a small chuckle, attempting to ignore your ex-boyfriend's mention, "I'm not popular, I just try to be nice to everyone!"

You weren't sure how much time had passed nor the number of drinks you've had since you had originally arrived at the party, but between the drinking, socializing, and dancing — you were feeling the exhaustion creeping up on you. You bid the girls a quick goodbye before excusing yourself, pulling away from the crowd. You searched the room for the tall curly headed boy, sighing happily once seeing him against the door frame with an easy smile drawn on his features.

When his eyes landed on you approaching him, his entire face lit up as he tightened the lid of the plastic water bottle. Luke's eyes darted from one of his friends and back towards you. He lifted his arm up, allowing you to tuck yourself into his side. Your smaller figure fit perfectly under his arm, you leaned your head against his chest as he continued chatting with Dylan and their other friends.

"Hey Lukey," You said to the boy, tilting your head upwards to making eye contact with him.

"Hey you," Luke chuckled, brushing a lone strand of hair out of your face, "Did you have fun, drunkie?"

"I'm not drunk." You mumbled into his sweater, "Just had a few drinks."

He hummed, "Yeah, I saw you hammer out those three cans of Mikes and down a few shots with the girls — definitely not drunk." Luke teased, "You okay?"

"Yeah, just getting sleepy."

"Hey Dyl, we're heading out now. You need a ride?" Luke asked Dylan, who was still engaged in conversation. Dylan waved him off, saying something about either finding a ride or taking an uber home later.

Luke kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he guided you out of the house party and towards his car that was parked a little ways away from the party.

"You looked like you enjoyed the party." He told you, supporting your body while you stumbled in your steps.

"Yes! I saw so many people we knew!" You giggled, leaning further into Luke's body.

Luke chuckled, pulling your body to keep you upwards, "You gotta keep standing upright to walk, sweet girl. Keep leaning into me and you're going to be sideways."

"What's the matter with that?"

"We gotta make it to the car." He said back, "We're almost there."

You let out a dramatic sigh, "Can't you carry me? You're strong from hockey and I'm tired."

"The car is right there." Luke laughed, pointing at his car ahead of you.

"Why are you laughing at me?" You whined.

He rolled his eyes at your drunken state, "Not laughing at you, I promise. Come on."

Luke opened the passage side door for you, you climbed into the seat with both of your legs hanging out of the vehicle. He carefully readjusted your body to slide your legs into the car. His hands brushing over your front as he fastened your seatbelt, "You comfy?" He teased as you rested your head on your hand that was propped up on the centre console.

"Mhm, I like this car." You yawned.

Luke placed a light kiss on the top of your hair, "Alright, let's get you home."

He closed your door and slide into the driver's seat, "You wanted something to eat?" Luke asked you as he pulled away from the curb.

"Oo! Can we get McDonald's? I want nuggets so bad!" You exclaimed, immediately sitting up in your seat.

He laughed, lightly pushing you back into your seat, "Okay, we can get food and then I'll drop you off."

Luke pulled into the drive through at the 24-hour McDonald's, ordering your go to along with a Dr. Pepper for himself. He paid for your food, handing you the brown paper bag. He parked his car in the empty lot to let you eat.

You excitedly opened up your box of nuggets along with the sauce, you nearly letting out a moan of satisfaction when taking your first bite, "You're the best, Lukey."

"Oh yeah?" He said while taking a sip of his drink, "You're saying that because I bought you food."

"No, that's not true! You buy me food, you bring snacks when we study, and you drive me to your hockey games. You've always been the best and no one comes even close to beating you," You explained, still feeling the effects of the alcohol as words left your mouth faster than you could process them, "Like, seeing you and hanging out with you and talking to you is the best part of my day. I could be having an absolutely shitty day but the second I see you and your smile and your perfect curls, suddenly my day is not so shitty and is good again."

Luke's eyes widen slightly as you spoke, his body comfortably lounging in his seat as he listened. His drink untouched in his hands. He watched you as your eyes sparkled while you talked, even between bites of your food.

"And you always watch out for me and you listen to me, like actually listen to me. I know a lot of people but no one sees me the way that you do, no one knows me the way that you do. It's like, whenever I'm with you, I just know that everything is going to be okay because I have you. You're everything I want in a person." You told him, your cheeks flushing a shade of red. Your hands instinctively covering your face in slight embarrassment as you sobered up slightly from the food entering your body. The realization of everything that you 'casually' told Luke, who sat in front of you, crashing over you.

"Oh my god," You whisper to yourself, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make this weird or anything. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Why are you sorry?" Luke asked, carefully putting his drink into the cup holder. His eyes were still on you, his hands gently moving yours away from your face. His facial features softened even more as he took in your shy expression and rosy pink brushed across your cheeks.

His larger and calloused hands held yours, "You shouldn't be sorry because I feel the exact same way, and I have for a while."

"Really?" You asked, your voice small and infused with the same nervous feeling that was engulfing you.

He smiled, "Really. I think there was always something about you since we first became friends that I was always drawn towards. I thought I could move away from it since I didn't want to ruin our friendship... But when you started dating J- you know who, I got jealous because I wanted to be in his spot."

His thumb brushed over the skin of your hand drawing faint circles, "I think it has always been you. You make me a better person and you always bring out the best of me."

"You're going to make me cry," You pout, the surge of happiness and loving emotions filling your chest as tears brimmed your eyes.

"I mean everything I said," Luke reassured, placing a kiss on your knuckles, "And I don't know what is going to happen next between us but I'll be okay with whatever you want."

"I think I want you to kiss me right now." You replied.

His face flushed as a small smirk drew upon his lips, "Yeah?"

You nodded. One of his hands brushed over your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and bringing your face closer to his. Your chest leaning over the centre console to be closer to Luke, the close proximity of you two allowed you to breathe in his scent that was so distinguishably his. You could see every freckle that was sprinkled across his nose and the flecks of green in his blue eyes. His pupils were dilated as he gazed at your big doe-like eyes and flickered towards your lip-gloss coated lips.

His thumb caressed your chin — tilting your face upwards. Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips met yours, fitting perfectly with each other. You let out a happy sigh as you bring your hand to tangle with the curls at the back of his head whilst his hands cup your face. His tongue brushed lightly over your bottom lip, asking for entrance into your mouth. Your lips part open, allowing for his tongue to dance with yours.

His hands traveled down to your waist, "Come here, gorgeous girl." Luke mumbled against your lips, guiding you to climb over the console and onto his lap. His hand reached down the side of the seat to push his seat backwards to give the two of you more space. His hands trailed down to give your ass a gentle squeeze, causing a small moan to leave your lips which Luke swallowed up with his mouth.

You kept a hand in his hair, loving the feeling of his curls while the other hand rested on his upper chest. Luke had his hands on your waist, keeping you in place on his lap as your lips moved together. You pulled away for a second to catch a breath, your eyes opening to see his slightly swollen lips and blown out eyes. A giggle slipped out of both of you as you leaned down to rest your forehead against his.

"You're perfect." He breathed out, planting a kiss on your cheek.

"What does this make us Luke?" You asked him, "I don't know if I can go back to being just friends after a make out session that good."

"I would ask you to be my girlfriend right now, but I refuse to you in the middle of a McDonald's parking lot at one in the morning."

"Tomorrow then?" You laughed, pecking his lips.

"Mhm," He hummed, connecting your lips again for a brief moment, "Do you want to spend the night at mine or do you want me to drop you off at home?"

"That's a stupid question and you know that," You teased, feeling his smile against your lips, "Yours tonight."

"Alright, let's get going then," Luke chuckled, "Get back into your seat, I promise cuddling in my bed is much comfier than the driver's seat of my car."

You giggled, climbing off his lap and sliding back into your original seat. His eyes stay on your smiling self, his eyes full of adoration and love as he started his vehicle. While he drove, the two of you fell into an easy conversation as usual. Mainly debriefing the party that felt like hours ago and the drama that you had found out about from the girls you were with.

When he parked, he rushed over to your side of the car to open your door. His hand holding yours as he guided you through his house and to his room. Luke gave you a change of clothes and let you get ready for the night in the bathroom.

You climbed into his bed where he flipped open the comforter to allow you to snuggle up to him. You laid your head on his chest, feeling the strong muscles of his pectorals from working out and playing hockey over the years. His legs tangled with yours and his arms wrapped around your middle.

"My mom is going to be the most excited about this when we tell her." Luke said to you, his voice low and quiet. His hands lazily brushing through your hair, "Or Jack, he's been on my ass since the start... Although for a while, I thought he had a thing for you."

"Really?" You asked, tiredness seeping through your words as the rise and fall of Luke's chest brought you closer to sleep.

"Yeah, always told me how sweet and cute you are." Luke chuckled.

"Jack said that?"

His hand paused in its movements, "That's my brother, relax."

"I'm just teasing," You giggled, "As long as you think the same thing."

"Of course I do." He mumbled, "Good night, my gorgeous girl."

"Good night, Lukey."

[luveline]

omg post prison Spencer and concussed!shy girl….I would go feral I fear

“I’m gonna be sick again,” you whine, covering your eyes with both of your hands. The nausea roils and the pain in your head reaches a new crescendo. You moan without thinking about it, worse when someone grabs a hold of you from behind. 

“Don’t bend!” he says, not shouting but not happy with you either. “You aren’t going to be sick again if you stay sat up. I know it hurts, but you’re making it worse.” 

Spencer’s strict voice isn’t one you’re used to. An embarrassed flush rushes over you, quick to cry ‘cos you’ve wanted to for hours. 

“Sorry,” you mumble tearily, slouching back into your seat with a wince. 

“Oh, angel, please don’t cry again.” 

“I’m not.”

“I’m not angry with you, I just need you to listen, because being sick like this isn’t good for you, and you’re gonna feel sick again if you bend over. It’s your head, angel. It’s the inertia.” 

You shuffle across the couch to flop against his chest. It’s a desperate move; if he doesn’t hug you, you’re going to start crying for sure, so you’re begging him to hold you without having the courage to say it out loud. “Sorry,” you say. 

“It’s okay.” Hands wrap around you immediately. “Don’t be sorry. Just stay like this for a bit, until the nausea stops. Please.” 

You’d love to stay there. You can smell the black coconut soap he uses on his skin, rubbing your nose into his neck and taking obvious breaths. 

Spencer pats your back, saying, “Good, take a breather.” He sounds surprised, but when you glance up at him he isn’t panicking or moving. He’s closed his eyes. His hand is on the small of your back.  

You hit your head so hard the very first thing that happened was the wave of vomiting. It just… didn’t end. And for a while all you could think about was nothing, just being sick and crying and a hand on your back, eventually traded for colder ones, bright white lights and strangers asking how you were feeling. You couldn’t not defer to Spencer, not really sure if he was Spencer in a permanent sense but aware intrinsically that he was to be trusted to answer for you. 

Your brain is shaken, then stirred. 

“If I give you a pill, do you think you can keep it down? It’s okay if you can’t. Honest answer,” Spencer murmurs. 

“I don’t know.” 

“An anti nausea pill you need to swallow isn’t exactly mankind’s best invention.” He cradles the nape of your neck, then, sounding more on your side than anyone ever has. “I wish I could fix it.” 

“You should’ve put your brain to work for science,” you say agreeably, “you can fix anything. Big pharma are lucky you chose to catch the bad guys instead.” 

“I meant your concussion.” You can barely hear him, and at the same time, it’s like he’s speaking into your marrow. 

“You did fix that,” you say, tipping your head back to see him. “You took me to the doctor.” 

He smiles. “Yeah, I did, but you’re still sick and hurting.” 

It’s not that bad in Spencer’s arms. You had dreams like this, daydreams and sleeping, where he’d wrap you up and comfort you after some hurt, but you’re struggling to remember what made it feel as painful as it did at the time. Spencer felt far away. Now he’s right here. You curl your arm behind his neck to be squished together, tight tight tight. Spencer actually groans. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“No, m’not in pain. I can’t remember the last time I got to hold you like this for so long.” 

“I don’t know why.” 

“I do, and it’s okay. I know why you get freaked out. I’ll never rush you. I don’t mind. But I feel guilty ‘cos I’m enjoying this and you’re in pain.”

It’s a dull throb in the skull. You can barely feel it. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“I’m confused.” 

“That’s a common theme tonight.” 

“You feel guilty ‘cos I’m hugging you?” 

He covers your eyes with his hand. You laugh at first, but it’s oddly nice. Warm, dark. The throbbing pain ebbs a bit. 

Spencer can feel you relaxing against him. He’s all warmth and smell and sound under your ear. Exhaling, humming, the sound imbued with a fondness you don’t understand. His chest is solid under you, his hair begging to be touched where it flirts with his shoulders, the slopes and lines of him a tactile wonderland for your greedy hands: you want to feel everything. You haven’t the faintest clue as to why you weren’t allowing yourself the privilege before. 

“I just need you to get better fast,” he says, breathless. “That’s all.” 

“I am trying my best.” 

Spencer rubs a thumb over one of your eyebrows, start to end. “And you’re so, so good at it,” he says. 

You aren’t concussed enough to miss the lightly mocking coo of it. But you don’t care. Your nose drags up the line of his neck clumsily, in what you hope says tease me more, but more likely says concussive brain injury, second degree. 

[taylor-titmouse]

hey i want to talk about how you should be promoting your work as an erotic author/illustrator

i'm writing this up because the marketing aspect of my work as an erotic author/illustrator is a science to me, and also because i'm the guy who gets unreasonably annoyed when i see other creators not properly advertising their work. you presumably want to make money off your work. this post will be written under the assumption you want to make money off your work but are doing a bad job at it. it will be very confrontational. if you read this and feel attacked you're right and i am attacking you.

this is geared toward selling erotic comics/writing/books/art as products. i will probably write more than one post about this subject so if i didn't touch on something you want to know more about, comment/send me an ask and i'll keep it in mind for the next one.

i will start with my first and least specific but most important point:

DON'T GET FUCKING CUTE

hi are you paying attention. i'm gripping you by the sides of your face. do not get fucking cute with what you are trying to sell. you are not a big enough property to get cute, nobody LIKES it when big properties get cute, and you are selling porn. you have to own this. you have to be up front about this. don't be tongue in cheek, don't be all teehee i wonder what this could be~, don't be secretive. you are selling a product. you have to fucking act like it. you are an adult selling pornography to other adults. i am GRIPPING your HEAD you NEED to understand this.

and to be clear when i say 'cute' i mean coy. i don't mean cutesy, as in the aesthetic. you can be as hello kitty pastel ten emojis a post uwu as you like when you're building your audience and generating hype. but when you start trying to sell, don't be vague, don't be sarcastic, don't mislabel your work as a joke and assume everyone is on it. because they're not.

you must always assume 75% of the people seeing the thing you are advertising have no fucking idea who you are. and that includes a huge chunk of the people who already follow you. they do not know who you are or what you've been working on for two months or why they should care about it. they just got here. somebody just reposted it. they are seeing it for the first time. most people are only looking at social media for a tiny chunk of their day. they are not keeping up with you. you cannot get cute about what you are trying to sell because nobody knows what it is until you tell them.

okay are you still with me. we are going to talk about clarity now.

YOU GOTTA TELL ME WHAT IT IS

good lord the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's comic or book and had no idea what's actually in it or what it's about. who are the characters? why should i care about them? what do they do in it? what is the premise of this thing you want me to spend $5 on? why would you not tell me? i'm shaking you again. please i have to know what i'm buying i only have so much money to spend on porn.

porn, arguably more than any other genre, relies on knowing exactly what is in it. you do not want to surprise your readers with a kink they were unaware of! and on the flip side, you do not want to miss out on your target audience! if your book contains a hot spider babe laying eggs in an elf, you have to say so. not just so people who don't want to read about eggs know it isn't for them, but so the people who are egg crazy can see that and go "oh fuck YES i love EGGS here is my $5 and an extra $2 tip for catering to me specifically". a contents/features list is as much an advertisement as it is a warning!

as for re: who the characters are and why should i care, i'm sorry but you need to learn how to write sales copy. you have to write blurbs. you have to get good at the shit that goes on the back of a book. we all hate it but we have to do it. i want to know who the characters are and what the context is. i, personally, am not interested in contemporary stories as much as fantasy and historical. please tell me what genre this porn exists in so i know if it aesthetically appeals to me. pull some books off your shelves and see how they do it. hell man go look at mine.

while you're there, note that every single book of mine has a sample of what's in it. this feels like such a no-brainer to me but again! the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's work and they don't show me what their work looks like! you gotta give me the first page or two! just enough that i know if i like the way your writing sounds, or the way you draw your comics! i don't know you! i am not going to trust that you're good at what you do just based on a cover. the cover is to get me to this step, it is not the only step. you have to show me that you're worth spending my money on!

to put it less cynically, you want to catch my interest. you want me to go 'oh i want to see more of this', you want me to go 'ahh i want to know where this goes!' you need to get me invested and craving more. earn my $5!!!

YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT EASY TO GIVE YOU MONEY

hey go look at your bio right now. go look at your pinned post. do you have a link to your patreon there? do you have a link to your itchio/gumroad/whatever? do i have to click more than once to get to the places you want me to go to give you money? why? why are you making me click twice? have we learned nothing from every website making you click an extra time when they make some stupid UI update and how much it pisses us off? i have already given up, i have forgotten you, i am not giving you my $5 today. put your links in the easiest places to get to them.

god literally as i was writing this post i went to go find somebody's itchio to see how they described their work and it was not anywhere on their profile. grabbing you and shaking you PUT THE LINK WHERE I CAN FIND IT. don't make it hard! make it easy! i am a dickhead sitting on the toilet scrolling, saw your post, and was interested enough to read further. but you made me go to your bio to find your linktree and oops i have already gone back to my timeline to look at the boobies in the next post. stop wasting precious bio space on DNIs and put your fuckin links there!!!

this is more for the twitter people, but: just put the link in the damn post. just say the word commission. just say it's for patreon. "wuh wuh the algorithm" it is not the damn algorithm it's that everybody hates advertising and nobody wants to retweet ads. putting slashes in the words doesn't do anything and you look like a fool. i have posted so much art that says it's 'a commission for ___" and it did exactly as good as any other art despite having the word commission in it. and by doing the slashes you just made it impossible for anybody to search your account for your commission information (which should be at the VERY LEAST in a post under your pinned tweet if you're not actively posting about them being open).

okay that went on a tangent i'm going to back to the point of putting the link in the tweet. put it in the first post. not in the first reply. don't tell them to go to your bio. put it in the post people are actually going to share. it's fine to put more information in the thread but people are only ever going to share the first post. so put the link there. you have to make it easy. putting links in tweets can hurt you algorithmically, even in the replies. so you're better off having it in the post that actually gets seen and shared. i don't want to open the tweet and scroll to get to your sales page where i ASSUME you will have put all the information anyway. put it in the tweet that just got retweeted by itself onto my dash!

also you have to share it a ton of times. i repost my shit every few hours when i'm trying to push a new product. as i said before people are not 24/7 looking at their timelines. they missed it the first time. they missed it the second time. they didn't get paid yet that week but they were after the eighth time and you reminded them again so they finally bought it. that i will still get sales every time i repost a book ad weeks after release says there are always people who missed it, or who only just showed up.

abandon your pride and shill. shills pay their bills. anyone who gets annoyed about it isn't giving you money in the first place. don't worry about looking like a sell out. don't apologize for plugging your own work. post about it often, post about it in different ways. post about it. post about it. you are not going to make money if people don't know you have something to sell them. if you want to make a career out of it, you need to act like it.

I DON'T HAVE A FOURTH POINT

kisses your forehead. i'm sorry for yelling at you. i've been making and publishing and selling adult art for the past two-three years and have got myself to the point where it pays my rent, and i got there by paying attention to what does and does not work.

please do your best to make money. i want you to make money.

as i said above i plan to write more posts on this subject, such as cover design, how to actually write sales copy, and best practices with running a patreon, but if there's things you would want to hear more about leave a comment or send an ask! i will probably be less aggressive on future topics. these are just things that have grinded my gears for a grip.

[em-ontv]

Get a room.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: After a particularly bad hunt, you were patching Dean up in the motel room, but he said he needed to be healed up the right way.

Content: fluff(?), kisses, Sam kind of being the third-wheel, no use of y/n, mentions of injury

English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 698

You and Dean had just stumbled back to the bunker after a long, exhausting hunt. It was one of those hunts where everything that could go wrong, did. Dean had taken a hit from some nasty vamp, even after you told him to be careful, but Dean? Nah, that word wasn't in his vocabulary. And while he made no big deal of the gash, you knew it was serious enough to need a little patching up.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt off, grimacing slightly as you cleaned up the deep cut on his shoulder.

"Ow—! Careful," Dean grimaced, shooting you a mocking glare. "You trying to finish me off, sweetheart?"

"Quit being a baby," you shook your head. "You're lucky this didn't go deeper."

“I’m always lucky,” Dean responded, a smirk spreading across his face despite his slight wince when you dabbed the cloth on his wound again.

"Uh-huh. I should just leave you to bleed out next time, it would save me a whole lot of trouble." you muttered, beginning to bandage him up, nodding in approval of your work once you secured it.

Dean shifted, sighed, then flashed you a lopsided grin. "I think you missed a step, sweetheart."

"What step?" you raised an eyebrow, confused.

“For me to fully heal… there’s only one thing that’ll work.”

“What?" you almost rolled your eyes. "Lemme guess, whiskey and pie?”

He grinned wider. “Nope. Kisses. Specifically, from you. On my face. All over. Only way this wound’s gonna close up right.”

You snorted. “Right. Because that's definitely how medical science works.”

Dean winced dramatically. “You don’t believe me? It’s a foolproof healing method. I swear it.”

"C'mon, don't leave me hanging here—this is life or death." He added for good measure, tapping a finger to his cheek.

Despite yourself, you laughed. “You are so full of it, Winchester.”

“One kiss. Or like… fifty. But who's counting?” He shrugged.

You sighed, fully aware you were playing into his game but too tired to fight it. You leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, where his finger tapped relentlessly until you gave in.

“There you go,” Dean said, clearly pleased. “But you missed a spot—” He pointed to another area, so you kissed it too. “And there—” Another kiss. “And the forehead—” You kissed his forehead. “And—”

“Okay, Dean, that’s enough."

"Not enough. I can still feel the pain." He let out an over-the-top groan.

You sighed in exasperation, considering to either just punch him across the face or keep giving into him—you chose the latter.

Just as you were placing more kisses onto his face—the grin on his lips made him look like a love-drunk idiot—the door swung open.

Sam walked in with some takeout bags, he froze in the doorway, eyes widening as he took in the scene: you, practically sitting on Dean’s lap, showering his face with kisses, while Dean looked way too proud of himself.

“What did I just walk into?” Sam groaned, immediately making a beeline to the table to avoid getting another glance at the two of you.

"Hey, it's a part of the healing process, Sammy." Dean smirked, looking over to his brother.

Sam blinked, then made a face like he just swallowed something sour. “Gross. Seriously, guys, get a room.”

“We’re technically in a room, you know.” you said, getting off of Dean who seemed too reluctant to let you go.

"A room that you walked into." Dean added, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Sam set the food down, still shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, well, next time, maybe give me a warning first so I know not to come in while you guys are having a whole smooch-fest."

"You're just jealous."

"You two are impossible."

"Buzzkill."

Sam just groaned in annoyance again, starting to unpack the food.

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling a bit guilty—though not that guilty. You glanced at Dean, who tugged on your hand with a happy expression.

"Next time, we're giving you painkillers." you said, lifting your hand up and running your finger through his hair.

"Not a chance." Dean smiled.