snoopyhughes

[snoopyhughes]

unfortunately my body does not know the difference between closing the bar and having a heart attack

[snoopyhughes]

*Clears throat* So like, coming back with the topic of angry rough Luke after the game....but the aftercare?

The quiet "'M sore, Luke." That would be whispered into the silence afterwards would practically make him weak in the knees and bread his heart all at once???

Sigh. I fear I need him.

[Mentions of sex themes]

His arms feel like you’re floating on a cloud, cradled to his chest and listening to his heartbeat - calm, steady and you’re happy, his hand running up and down your back soothingly and wrapping you in a blanket of serenity as you catch your breath. Luke’s spent, and he thinks he’s empty for the next three days after the time you’ve just spent making the bed creak, all that time he spent listening to your songs and feeling the sting of your nails on his back. But he’s in bliss and you being on his chest feels even better. 

The sheets are still crumpled, the condom disposed of but besides that you both haven’t moved much, just cuddled with the hum of the AC. Under your palms, his skin’s cooling, smooth and less sweaty than before but you’re happy and comfortable with the closeness. His hair isn’t sticking to his forehead anymore, the curls springing back to life all fluffy, but his voice is raspy and tired.

“How’re you feeling, angel?” He asks, softly and placing a kiss on your head.

He knows you’re exhausted, he was rougher than usual, consensually, but it was the roughest he’s ever been, and the pit of his stomach harboured a small, swirling guilt. He knows you’re not fragile, you’re not glass but you’re still the human he loves with every fibre of his being, and as much as you both enjoyed the night, hurting you isn’t on the list of intentions. 

 You snuggle into his chest, fingertip tracing heart-shaped patterns over his pec. You’re melting into his warmth, complete serenity encasing your body even though there’s an ache between your legs, energy depleted. 

“M’sore, Lu.” You whisper, although not in agony, but it’s dull and uncomfortable. “But it doesn’t hurt, just achy.”

His guilt grows into a storm, eyebrows pulling and he swears under his breath, holding you closer to his chest. Yet, at the same time, the softness in your voice, the pressure of your body against his, makes him weak in the knees. You’re adorable, you make his face flush pink without trying, you have this chokehold on him that you’re unaware of and the last thing he wants to hear is that he’s caused the pain you’re feeling. 

“M’sorry, I shouldn't have been so rough, I’ll be gentler next time.” He mutters, hands spread over your back and tracing over your waist delicately, leaving those electric prickles that spark through your body in their wake. 

You can’t express how much Luke’s touch intoxicates you. You need it, it’s the comfort you need in the world, after shitty days, after good days, in the morning, night, always. 

“No. Don’t apologise; I enjoyed it. Wanna do it again.” You protest, voice frail but scolding him in a way that he finds your pout cute. “But can we wait until it doesn’t hurt anymore until we do it again? Please?” “Baby girl, that was a given, wouldn’t do that to you.” The kisses he peppers over your face tickle, pulling sleepy giggles from your chest that feel rejuvenating, his chuckles like a breath of fresh air. “I’ll run you a bath.”

Slowly, he slides you onto the mattress, placing a long, wet kiss to your forehead before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He aches himself, more than he thought he would but what he doesn’t know is that you’re eyeing him up and down, admiring the back muscles that ripple when he moves his arms, giggling at his bare ass that you love so much. He steps away and towards the bathroom before halting at the sound of your voice.

“Wait, you are joining me, right?” You’re louder than you were before, eyes wide and puppy-like, the way you know works on him like a charm but if the truth were to be told, there’s nothing that sounds better than being held while soaking in a floral scented bath right now.

Luke turns his head, raises his eyebrows, as if surprised at your question, and gives you his lop-sided smile. “When have I ever missed the opportunity?” 

The warm water embraces you; the whirring of the fan fills the void of silence in the bathroom as Luke’s arms are securely wrapped around your waist, your back against his firm chest and this is exactly what bliss feels like. Lavender aroma gently fills the bathroom, Luke’s lips peppering soft and lazy kisses over your hair and cheek, dulling the soreness between your legs as the tiredness creeps upon you. It’s all just perfect, the warmth, his company, his body pressed against yours, the gesture of prioritising your aftercare when he could’ve just fallen asleep. It seems like the bare minimum to at least provide some aftercare, but you’d heard stories from people you know whose partners did just leave them to help themselves. He could have just run a simple bath, but he went through the effort of (clumsily) lighting the incense, using the bubble bath you’d been so excited to try out and making sure the towels were warm. And watching him do all of that made your heart swell for him more.  

“You’re the best, Lu.” You mumble out, leaning back into his shoulder and closing your eyes, body following his breathing patterns as his chest rose and dipped. 

Luke’s chuckle rumbles and you feel the vibration on your back and his nose nuzzling into your head. He doesn’t need to say anything to tell you how he feels, you know it already. You watched him show you beforehand. But every minute you spend with him is cherished in a sacred place in your heart.

[snoopyhughes]

i love the new theme elle 🤭🤭

thank you sweetheart!! 💝💝

[snoopyhughes]

new theme for jessie murph album coming out next week 💖🩶

[snoopyhughes]

This is an appreciation post for the fanfic authors who aren’t included on rec lists

For the fanfic authors who don’t get art of their fics

For the fanfic authors who can’t get to 1000/500/100 hits

For the fanfic authors who don’t get comments/reviews

For the fanfic authors who write for small fandoms

For the fanfic authors who write rarepairs or gen fics

For the fanfic authors who get hate for the ships/characters/fandoms they write

For the fanfic authors who write in English despite it not being their first language

For the fanfic authors who don’t write in English

For the fanfic authors who don’t think anyone reads or likes their work

For the fanfic authors who aren’t big name fans

For the fanfic authors who don’t get requests in their inboxes

For the fanfic authors who can’t write stories that are more than a thousand words

For the fanfic authors who only write one ship

For the fanfic authors who are just starting

For the fanfic authors who have been writing fic for years

For the fanfic authors who use fanfic to practice writing

For the fanfic authors who write self-insert fics

For the fanfic authors who write about their OCs

For the fanfic authors who write to vent or cope

For the fanfic authors who are just waiting for their big break

Keep creating, I love you ❤️

[snoopyhughes]

Pent Up

Pairings: Luke Hughes x Reader

Summary:Luke’s been sidelined with a shoulder injury, stuck in a sling and simmering with frustration. One night, his frustration finally boils over… and you realize just how much he’s been holding back.

Word Count: 2,100

warnings: Sexual content, one-handed/disabled partner, oral (f. receiving), possessiveness, dominant!Luke, protected sex, light restraint, praise, soft aftercare

Luke wasn’t good at sitting still.

Especially not when he was injured. Especially not when he couldn’t play. And especially not when you were walking around the apartment in nothing but one of his oversized t-shirts the sleeves swallowing your hands, the hem barely covering your thighs.

He was sulking on the couch, arm in a sling, jaw tense, hair a mess from raking his fingers through it too many times. You walked by once humming to yourself, carrying laundry and he didn’t say anything.

The second time you passed, barefoot and half-distracted, he snapped.

“Babe.”

You turned. “Yeah?”

He didn’t move. Just stared at you.

“What?” you asked, a smile twitching at the corner of your mouth.

His eyes dropped down your legs, then back up. His tongue ran across his bottom lip.

“C’mere.”

You walked over, settling beside him. He looked like he was trying so hard to be casual. But his knee bounced, his hand twitched, and his gaze kept drifting.

“Everything okay?” you asked softly.

“No,” he said. Then, after a beat: “You’re driving me insane.”

Your brows lifted. “I’m just doing laundry.”

“You’re doing laundry in my shirt with no bra and nothing underneath and you keep bending over in front of me and acting like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

You blinked. “I—Luke.”

“I’ve got one good arm,” he muttered, eyes locked on yours now. “That’s all I need. So stop looking at me like I’m fragile.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you. For days. You’ve been taking care of me, being sweet, being patient, and I love you for it, but babe—” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “I need you.”

The air between you shifted instantly. You could feel the heat off him, the way his good hand was gripping the couch cushion like he was holding himself back.

You straddled his lap slowly. “Then take me.”

His breath caught. “Yeah?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to crack,” you whispered, hands sliding up into his hair. “Knew it was coming.

His mouth was on yours before you finished the sentence — hungry and rough and desperate. His hand ran down your spine, gripping your ass through the shirt and pulling you tighter against him.

“Off,” he said, tugging at the hem. “Take this off.”

You peeled it off slowly, revealing bare skin underneath. Luke hissed through his teeth.

“Jesus, baby…”

He leaned forward, mouth latching onto your neck, teeth grazing your collarbone. You rocked your hips against him, feeling how hard he already was, straining against his shorts.

“Can I taste you?” he murmured, voice low and thick.

You nodded, breath shaky. “You sure?”

“Get on the couch,” he ordered. “Now.”

You did laying back, legs spread, heart racing. He knelt between your thighs, still using only one hand, and dragged his fingers slowly up your inner thigh.

“You’re already so wet,” he murmured, staring like he couldn’t look away. “Missed this. Missed you.”

Then he lowered his mouth, tongue soft and slow, and everything else blurred.

He was careful but determined, finding every spot that made your hips twitch, your back arch, your breath hitch. He held you open with one hand and never broke eye contact moaning low every time you gasped.

It didn’t take long. Your thighs were trembling, your hand in his hair, crying out his name as the wave broke over you hard and fast.

But Luke didn’t stop.

“Again,” he said, voice hoarse against your skin. “Need to feel you fall apart for me again.”

And you did — not once, but twice more.

When he finally pulled back, lips swollen, chin glistening, he looked wrecked in the best way.

“Condom?” he rasped.

You reached into the side table drawer, tore it open, and helped him roll it on gently. He hissed when your fingers brushed him.

“Tease,” he muttered.

“You love it.”

“I love *you,*” he corrected, cupping your face. “Now spread your legs, baby. Gonna make you feel so good.”

He slid inside slowly, with one hand gripping your waist and the other arm still tucked into his sling. But it didn’t matter he moved deep and smooth, hips snapping in rhythm, eyes burning into yours.

“You take me so well,” he groaned. “Always so tight, so warm, you were made for me.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he built up a rhythm, hips slamming into yours, his good hand gripping the headboard for leverage.

“Wanted this all week,” he panted. “Laid up in bed, thinking about you. Waking up hard. Dreaming about your mouth, your thighs, the way you scream my name—”

You whimpered under him, barely holding on. “Luke—”

“I’ve got you,” he growled. “One arm, two arms, doesn’t matter. I always take care of you.”

When you came, it was almost overwhelming, everything tightening, blurring, crashing in waves. He followed right after, burying himself deep with a guttural moan.

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Just laid there, pressed against you, breathing hard.

Then he kissed your shoulder. Your collarbone. Your lips.

“You okay?” you whispered.

He nodded. “I’m more than okay. That… might’ve healed me.”

You laughed breathlessly. “Is that how that works?”

“Might need a few more rounds. For science.”

You shook your head, pulling him closer. “I’ll allow it. For science.”

He kissed you again, slow and deep.

Then mumbled against your lips: “Also… might need help getting my sling back on.”

[snoopyhughes]

could you do a blurb for nico, luke, or quinn that’s kinda based off the song sleep without you by brett young, basically he just can’t sleep without the reader and he is fine with her going out but is just in bed like 🧍🏽 waiting for her to get back 😭😭😭

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

If there was one thing about Luke Hughes, it’s that he loved sleep.

It was a known stereotype for hockey players to enjoy a nap and he was no different. He wasn’t as strict or meticulous as Jack was with his pregame naps. He just slept whenever he wanted, whenever he could. The NHL was no joke and as much as people teased him for how much he ate, it was only followed by a similarly high amount of sleep. 

There was a very little in this world that could stop Luke from sleeping. 

But one of those things was you. 

It wasn’t as though he couldn’t sleep at all if you were not around. That would be pretty stupid. And honestly, quite a big problem with how much time he spends on the road during the season. He didn’t know how to explain it. He had tried once, on a phone call to some of the UMich boys but they couldn’t seem to wrap their head around it either. 

Luke just couldn’t sleep. Not comfortably. And tonight was no different.

He had a late afternoon training session that wouldn’t get him back in the apartment until dinner time. And you would already be gone and out to meet your friends by that point. Luke had kissed you goodbye, muttered something about sending him which outfit you chose before he was running out the door to meet Jack (who was impatiently waiting on him). 

Luke had liked the message when he got off the ice a few hours later, grinning at the stream of messages that followed before you eventually left the house yourself. He got himself dressed, grabbed some dinner at Jack’s place and made his way back home with the intention of fucking around the apartment until he eventually attempted to have an early night in.

Until Luke found himself lying on his side of the bed, two hours after he attempted to turn in for the night, still awake and unable to even doze off no matter what he tried.

He felt unsettled, a feeling in his chest that he couldn’t ignore no matter what he tried. For a panicked moment, he thought something was wrong. He scrolled through so many google searches and random articles before deciding that the chance of him—a healthy twenty-one year old—having sudden, onset heart issues was very low. 

Instead, he found himself shuffling towards your side of the bed, his face squished against your pillow and the faint scent of your perfume still notable as he tried to count aimlessly until he fell asleep. 

But sleep never came and the feeling in his chest remained and Luke found himself really missing you. 

He felt bad for wishing you were there. He knew you had been working your ass off recently, knew that you barely had time for yourself between classes and work. But you finally found a night that worked for you and your friends and he wanted you to enjoy yourself. He wanted you to have that night off that you desperately deserved. 

But there was another voice in his head—a more selfish one—that wished you were curled up next to him. That wished he could listen to you tell him about your day, to catch him up on petty gossip whilst you played with his hair and he told you about the dumb shit the boys did in the locker room. He just really wished you were there. 

Luke could see the surprise on your face when you stumbled into the flat just after midnight, swaying a little from the drinks and smiling at the night you had when you eventually saw him on the couch. 

“You waited up for me?” You asked, sounding so soft and touched by the act—if not a little confused too.

“Couldn’t sleep without my favourite girl,” Luke replied easily, sincere in a way that only made your face light up more. 

“C’mon, let’s go to bed,” you murmured, reaching your hand out and giggling as you tried to pull him off the couch, to lead him down the hall towards your bedroom.

“Yes, ma’am,” Luke grinned with his hands already moving to your waist to guide you down the hall, the feeling in his chest quickly disappearing as you leaned into his touch.

.

[snoopyhughes]

BLIND - n.mühl

- Nika Mühl x Fem!reader

- Nika doesn’t appreciate her girlfriend talking bad about herself.

- Insecurity

REQUESTED • Yes x No

"God, my stretch marks are so ugly," you mumble to yourself, standing in front of the floor-length mirror with Nika's shirt pulled up to your chest—running your fingers over the stretch marks covering your stomach and thighs.

Nika, just passing by the door, hears you mumble something she never wanted to hear you say. "What did you just say?" Nika asks sternly as she makes her way into the room.

"Wha-?" You start. "No, there's no way my baby just said that she hates her stretch marks."

"Nika—" Nika shakes her head. "Are you blind? You're the most gorgeous woman alive. I love your stretch marks, baby."

Nika walks closer to you, grabbing your hands. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, baby. You're literally so breathtaking."

You don't say anything; you don't know what to say, and before you can even try to wrap your head around what she said, she's kneeling on the ground and kissing your stretch marks.

"I love you. I love your stretch marks. I love your smile. I love the way your face lights up when you see something or someone you love. I love how supportive you are. I love how caring you are. I love everything about you. I worship the ground you walk on," Nika said, pressing small kisses on each and every stretch mark.

"I love you," you mumble, your eyes starting to fill with tears.

Nika stands up again, grabs your face in her hands, and starts pressing kisses to your face. "I love you more."

—

After what happened yesterday, you both just cuddled for the rest of the day, but Nika was planning something.

She wants you to feel beautiful in your own skin. She wants you to feel confident. Most of all, she wants you to be comfortable. So... she planned a date for today.

The spa with facials and massages, getting nails and hair done, lunch, then a shopping spree.

All appointments have been made; she's already called her accountant to let them know that a lot of money will be spent today. All she has to do is tell you to get ready without spoiling anything.

"Hey, baby, go get dressed."

"Where are we going?" Nika shakes her head and smiles. "It's a surprise." You just look at her, feeling super confused about this, and you wish she would tell you so you know what to wear.

"How am I supposed to know what to wear if I don't know where we are going?" Nika clicks her tongue against her teeth, looking like she's thinking. "Cute but comfy, and wear walking shoes."

You just side-eye her—cute with tennis shoes? You don't have very long to ask questions before she's pulling you off the couch and pushing you toward the stairs. "Go get dressed."

—

You choose leggings and one of Nika's hoodies—basic, but you pair it with jewelry and curl your hair, trying to make it as cute and simple as possible.

Walking out of the room, you see Nika sitting on the couch on her phone.

She looks up once she hears you and immediately stands to make her way over. "You look beautiful," she says, wrapping her arms around your waist.

You hug her back, trying to hide your flustered face from her while mumbling a thank you.

The truth is, you still feel incredibly insecure. That's why you wore one of her hoodies instead. They're a little oversized, so it hides everything you want it to. But her saying you look beautiful? Obviously, you're going to fold.

Nika can also read you like an open book. So she can probably tell that you're still feeling insecure—and she wants to change that.

Nika has always been confident. Her mom was always confident around Nika, so Nika just grew up confident in herself, in what she wears—everything. She does have "off days," but she doesn't get insecure like you do. She's hot, and she knows it.

So getting with you and learning how to deal with and help with insecurities was a new thing for her, but she handled it like a charm. She knows what your expressions are saying; she knows when you're starting to feel uncomfortable in certain clothes or at certain places—she knows everything about you.

Sometimes you hate it, but sometimes she does things like today and hugs you while complimenting how good you look over and over again.

"Stop it. Look at me." She says, pulling your face out from nuzzling in her neck. "Stop hiding from me," she says, her hands on your cheeks, holding your head up — her thumbs slowly rubbing against your cheekbones.

"How did I get so lucky with you?" she whispers, almost as if she's in a trance — hypnotized by your beauty.

You can feel your face getting hotter and hotter, but you don't pull away. Nika keeps looking at you lovingly, up and down. "You're gorgeous, mama. Absolutely fucking beautiful."

Before you can say anything back, she leans in and kisses you. It's not passive or sexual — just gentle. A kiss filled with all the love and affection she has for you.

She pulls away first, both of your foreheads touching as you both breathe heavily. "C'mon, mama, we're gonna be late."

You may still be insecure today and tomorrow — but that's okay. It's not just going to disappear in one day. Nika knows that though and she plans on doing everything she can to help you love yourself — to help you love what you consider flaws.

Because she loves you. She loves everything about you, and when you look in the mirror and can only think negative thoughts, she truly thinks you're blind. When she looks at you, she sees heaven.

[snoopyhughes]

Here We Go Again

Summary: Literally just because he's staying and not traded, Thank you!

Warnings: Very self indulgent, Brock stays a Canuck!, Getting big news from him, Slow sex, Begging, PWP, PnV, No protection, Cumming inside, Praise

Word Count: 2.9k

Brock's heart was racing as he watched the NHL Trade Deadline come and go without his name being mentioned. As he finally received the confirmation that he would be staying with the Vancouver Canucks, a wave of relief washed over him. He immediately dialed your number, his fingers shaking with excitement. You picked up after the first ring, your voice filled with anticipation. "Hey, handsome," you teased, knowing that he was likely just as anxious as you were to find out his fate. Brock chuckled, the stress of the day washing away in your voice. "Hey babe," he replied, a smile spreading across his face. "You won't believe it. I'm staying put in Vancouver." A squeal of joy came through the other end of the line. "Are you serious right now?" you asked, your voice filled with excitement. "I can't believe it! That's amazing news!" Brock nodded, still feeling somewhat dazed. "Yeah, it's unreal. I was convinced I was gone for sure this time."

"Well, I'm so happy you're staying," you said, your voice filled with warmth and gratitude. "I couldn't imagine seeing you play for another team." Brock's heart swelled with affection. "I feel the same way," he said, leaning back against his couch. "Playing here is everything to me… and being with you is everything to me too." His voice turned a little flirty, and he bit his lip in anticipation of your response. "Yeah?" you said, feigning nonchalance but secretly thrilled by his words. "And what makes me so special, huh?" Even through the phone, you could hear him grinning. "Where should I even start?" he said, his voice lowering. "You're funny, you're smart, and… well, you're the hottest person I know."

You couldn't help but laugh at his cheesy compliment. "Smooth, Boes," you teased, but deep down, butterflies had erupted in your stomach. "I guess you're pretty cute too," you said, playing along. There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could hear him take a deep breath. "Babe, can I ask you something?" Curious, you leaned back on your bed, the phone pressed to your ear. "Of course," you replied, a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Anything." There was another pause, and you could practically hear him searching for words. "I've been thinking…" he said, and you held your breath. "About… us." You sat up a little straighter, your heart rate increasing. "What about us?" you asked, biting your lip in anticipation. "Well…" he said, his voice a little sheepish. "How about we got out to dinner instead? There's… something I want to talk to you about." Your heart leapt in your chest. "Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Boeser?" you teased, your voice filled with flirtation. "Guilty as charged," he replied, a grin evident in his voice. "But it's more than just a date. There's something I want to discuss with you. It's… kind of important." Excitement bubbled up within you as you wondered what he could possibly want to talk about. "Well, now you've got me intrigued," you said, leaning back against your pillow. "Alright, you've convinced me. I'll let you take me out to dinner." He let out a sigh of relief. "Great. I'll pick you up in an hour. Wear something nice. I'm taking you somewhere special."

An hour later, you stood in front of your mirror, examining your outfit. You had chosen a black dress that hugged your curves and showed off your figure, paired with strappy heels. Satisfied with your reflection, you heard a knock at the door. Taking a deep breath, you opened it to see Brock waiting on the other side. He had also dressed up for the occasion, wearing a dark suit that hugged his broad shoulders in all the right places. His eyes widened as he admired your outfit, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Damn, you look incredible," he said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "You don't look so bad yourself," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. His hand reached out, his finger hooking around yours as he led you to his car. "Come on," he said, opening the passenger door for you. "I have a surprise for you." You raised an eyebrow but climbed into the passenger seat, your heart racing with anticipation. Brock closed the door and walked around to the driver's side, sliding in and starting the car. As he pulled away from the curb, you couldn't help but glance at him curiously. "Okay, don't keep me in suspense. Where are you taking me?"

He chuckled, his eyes glued to the road. "You'll see." Despite your attempts at getting it out of him, he remained tight-lipped the entire drive. Finally, he pulled up to a quaint Italian restaurant with twinkling lights and soft music cascading out of the open door. He got out and walked around to open the door for you, offering you his hand. You took his hand and stepped out of the car, your eyes widening as you took in your surroundings. The restaurant looked cozy and intimate, with flickering candles on each table and the scent of fresh bread making your mouth water. Brock led you inside, his hand on the small of your back. He seemed almost nervous, a fact that peaked your curiosity further. The hostess escorted you to a secluded booth in the back of the restaurant and handed you a menu with a knowing smile. Once she was out of earshot, you looked at him expectantly. "Alright, Boes. Spill. What's this special surprise you're so dead set on keeping a secret?" you asked, your eyes narrowing playfully. He shifted in his seat, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Can't I just take my gorgeous partner out to dinner without it having a secret motive?" he replied, attempting to sound casual. You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. "Nice try, but you've been acting all mysterious since you picked me up," you replied, your tone still playful. "I can read you like a book, Boes. There's definitely more to this." His smile widened, and he reached across the table to intertwine his fingers with yours.

"You got me," he admitted, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "There is something I want to talk to you about." He paused, his gaze locking with yours. "But I wanted to… set the mood first." Your heart fluttered within your chest, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "So, this isn't just dinner then, huh?" you asked, your voice a little softer now. He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "No, it's not." He took a deep breath, seeming to brace himself for what he was about to say. "I've been thinking a lot lately," he began, his voice lower now. "About us, and about our future." Your heart skipped a beat, your curiosity piqued. "Go on," you urged, your hand subconsciously gripping his hand a little tighter. A faint blush colored his cheeks, and he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "I know we've been together for a while now," he said, his gaze still fixed on yours. "And… I can't imagine my life without you in it." Your breath hitched in your throat, and you realized he was building up to something big. He took a deep breath, his grip on your hand growing more firm. "You're my best friend, and you make me happier than I've ever been," he continued. "I think… no, I know that you're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with." Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and the significance of this moment hit you like a ton of bricks.

You didn't trust your voice, so you simply nodded, overwhelmed by the emotions coursing through you. He seemed to take your silence as a cue to continue. "I love you, more than anything." His words hung in the air, filled with sincerity and vulnerability. "And I was wondering… if you'd want to make this thing between us… permanent." Your heart was pounding so hard, you were sure he could hear it. You couldn't form words, so you just nodded again, feeling tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. His face broke into a wide grin, and he released your hand to reach into his jacket pocket. Your eyes widened as he withdrew a small velvet box, and you gasped in surprise. He set it on the table between you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I've been planning this for weeks," he admitted, his voice soft. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life." With trembling hands, he opened the box to reveal a stunning diamond ring. It sparkled in the candlelight, and the sight of it made tears escape from your eyes. You were overwhelmed, your heart feeling as though it might burst from your chest. "Oh my god, Brock…" you managed to choke out, your voice trembling. He reached across the table and took your hands in his, the ring box still open on the table between you. "I love you," he repeated, his voice cracking slightly. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you…?" He didn't have to finish the question. You were already nodding furiously, tears streaming down your face.

"Yes," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, absolutely." He let out a breath he'd been holding, a massive smile on his face. "Thank god," he said, his own voice thick with emotion. He slid the ring onto your finger, and you couldn't help but admire the way it gleamed in the dim light. You were both smiling like fools now, tears still making their way down your cheeks. "I love you so much," you managed to say, your voice breaking slightly. He reached across the table and gently wiped away your tears with his thumb. "I love you more than you could ever know." The two of you were lost in each other, the rest of the restaurant fading into the background. You couldn't believe this was real, that the man you loved was proposing to you in a small Italian bistro. It was like something out of a fairytale. The restaurant staff must've sensed something special was happening because they brought out a bottle of champagne and a decadent chocolate cake, congratulating Brock and you on the engagement. The two of you clinked glasses, your faces filled with happiness. "Cheers to us," he said, his gaze never leaving yours. "To us." You clinked your glass with his, feeling giddy and in love. "And to you staying in Vancouver." He chuckled and took a sip of champagne. "Yeah, definitely to that." The rest of the night was a blur of laughter, heartfelt conversations, and stolen kisses. As you left the restaurant, hand in hand, he pulled you close and wrapped his arm around your waist.

As you entered your apartment, the door slamming shut behind you, Brock wasted no time in crowding you against the wall. His hands were already on your hips, his lips crashing onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away. You felt his hands roaming over your body, his touch sending jolts of electricity through you. You reached up and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer. The rest of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you and the heat of your desire. His lips left yours, trailing down your jawline and finding your neck. You gasped, arching into him as he kissed and nipped at your skin. His hands slid down to the hem of your dress, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion. His gaze traveled over your body, taking in every inch of you with a raw hunger in his eyes. He pressed himself against you, his body hot and hard against yours. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with arousal. "And you're all mine." Your heart pounded against your ribcage, and you pulled him in for another scorching kiss. "Take me to bed," you gasped against his lips, your body practically trembling with need. He groaned, his hands gripping your waist as he lifted you off your feet, carrying you towards the bedroom.

He tossed you onto the bed, following immediately after to cover your body with his own. His weight pinned you beneath him, but you didn't mind - you reveled in the feeling of being claimed, of being taken completely. His hands roamed over your curves, mapping out every dip and swell before settling on the fastenings of your bra. With deft fingers, he unhooked it and cast the lacy garment aside, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He dipped his head, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking gently, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core. A low moan escaped your lips as he lavished attention on your sensitive nipples. Your back arched, pressing more of yourself into his mouth. One hand found its way to the back of his head, holding him close while the other slid down his chest and abdomen to palm the impressive bulge straining against his jeans. "I want you inside me," you breathed, your voice heavy with lust. "Please, Brock… make love to me." His eyes locked with yours, blazing with desire as he released your breast from his mouth. "Always, baby," he growled, reaching for the button of his jeans. He kicked them off along with his boxers, revealing his erect cock standing proud and ready. He positioned himself between your thighs, the tip of his member brushing against your slick entrance. "Tell me how much you want this," he demanded, his voice rough with need. "Say my name like you mean it."

"Brock, please…" you whimpered, spreading your legs wider in invitation. "I need you, I crave you… fill me up, claim me as yours!" Your words tumbled out in a desperate plea, your body quivering with anticipation. You reached down to guide him to your opening, the head of his cock nudging against your wet folds. With a deep breath, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a searing kiss as you urged him to thrust home. With a primal grunt, Brock surged forward, burying himself to the hilt inside you in one powerful stroke. You both cried out at the sudden intimacy, your walls clenching around his thickness as if trying to keep him there forever. He paused for a moment, savoring the feel of your heat enveloping him, before beginning to move. Slow, deliberate thrusts at first, each one driving deeper and hitting that sweet spot within you that made stars explode behind your eyelids. His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency as he chased his release. "Fuck… you're so tight, so perfect," he panted, his voice strained with effort. "Mine, always mine…so beautiful." Your nails dug into his back as he slowed in and out of you, each meaningful thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins. "Yes, yes, yours!" you chanted, your head thrashing against the pillow as you lost yourself in the overwhelming sensations. The room faded away until there was only the sound of skin slapping against skin and your ragged breathing. "Brock! Please!" you begged, your inner muscles fluttering around his shaft in a desperate attempt to coax out your climax.

Brock's grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared the edge. "Gonna come, baby… gonna fill you up," he warned, his voice dropping to a guttural growl. With a final, brutal plunge, he buried himself to the root and stilled, his cock pulsating as he spilled his seed deep inside you. At the same time, he captured your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing your screams of pleasure as your own orgasm crashed over you in waves. Your body convulsed beneath him, milking every last drop from his throbbing member as you rode out the aftershocks together. Finally, he collapsed onto you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as you both struggled to catch your breath. "I love you, pretty," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him close as you basked in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking. "I love you too, Brock," you whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. "More than anything." You could feel his heartbeat slowing against your chest, the warmth of his breath on your skin as he began to relax in your embrace. "We should probably clean up," you suggested, though the thought of moving seemed daunting. For now, you were content to simply lie here, savoring the closeness and the knowledge that you were exactly where you belonged - in each other's arms.

Brock nodded lazily, still not quite ready to let go of you. "Yeah, maybe later," he drawled, nuzzling into your neck. "For now, just hold me." And so you did, entwined in a tangle of limbs and sheets, the soft rise and fall of your chests the only sound in the quiet apartment. Eventually, exhaustion won out and you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the steady beat of Brock's heart and the comforting weight of his body against yours. When you woke up hours later, the sun had long since set, casting the room in a warm, golden glow. Brock was still curled around you, his arm thrown possessively across your waist as he slept peacefully as you smiled and tenderly kissed his head.

[snoopyhughes]

CLIFFHANGER BROCK BOESER

Summary: Brock sees you reading on more than one occasion, and he comes up with a great idea.

Warnings: cursing, Brock being cute and a great bf (and kind of sassy), fluff, not proofread

Requested: Yes, celly prompt! ‘reading to them + brock boeser + fluff’

Word count: 1.4k

You sat on the couch, nose in a book, waiting for Brock to get home after the game. You knew he had to potentially do media, change, shower, all that jazz. You knew it would take a while, so you decided to occupy yourself with your favorite pastime, Milo and Coolie curled up at your feet.

You were about 15 chapters deep when the door to Brock’s apartment opened, the dogs’ heads perking up, Brock’s shuffling cutting through the silence that was once settled over the apartment.

“Don’t stop on my accord. Always got your nose in a book and your head in fantasy land,” Brock jokes, kissing your cheek as he made his way to the kitchen.

“At least I have a hobby outside of work! Pasta in the fridge if you want it,” you say back, shouting after his retreated form.

“I do have hobbies!”

“Watching reality TV shows doesn’t count.”

“The Bachelor totally counts!”

“Whatever, Mr. Sensitive.”

It happens again after he comes home from practice. You’re so deep into your book you don’t even know he’s there.

“Y/N!”

You jump at his voice, not meaning to have been so deep in thought.

“Sorry babe. You were just so wrapped up but I have a question. Want to have a date night tonight?” Brock asks, and you bookmark your page and walk with Brock into the kitchen.

Over the course of a week and a half, Brock interrupts your reading a few times. He’d witnessed three different books, and he just shook his head every time. Full of love, of course.

“Hey babe?” Brock asks one morning, coffee mug in hand as you sit at the island on your barstool, eating breakfast and reading.

“Hmm?”

“Anything planned for today?”

“No. Why?”

“I have an idea. We’ll leave in an hour. Get ready.”

You were confused, but you obliged anyway, unusually excited for whatever Brock had in store for your day.

Brock had found a little town on the edge of the Vancouver suburbs, and he found a little local bookshop with a coffee shop right across the street. He thought you’d like it, but seeing you so indulged in reading recently, he knew he just had to take you for a date.

You finish breakfast and Brock does the dishes for you while you go to shower. You get dressed in a sundress, the weather being really nice, not too hot and not too cold.

The drive over isn’t too long, the soft music coming from the radio creating a comfortable atmosphere in the car. His hand is laced with yours, and he kisses the back of it a few times during the trip.

He parks a little ways down from the bookstore to keep it a surprise.

“Ready?”

“Yeah. Where did you take me?”

“You’ll see. Patience babe,” he says, hands laced again.

He pulls you along gently, seemingly eager for whatever surprise he had in store.

“Okay. Close your eyes,” he says. That scared you slightly. But you did as he said anyway. He guides you into some store, a bell ringing as he opens a door. “Okay. Open.”

You open your eyes, and when they adjust, you’re surrounded by shelves, walls of books.

“Brock. You didn’t.”

“I did. Surprise,” he says softly, kissing your lips briefly. “Anything and everything you want. On me.”

“I can’t make you pay for it.”

“You aren’t making me. I’m doing it on my own accord. Any books you want.”

He hands you a small basket, and you caved. You were going to fill up one, five, ten baskets full of books.

You’re in the store for about an hour, picking up books that have been recommended, books you’ve wanted to read, classics that had fancy covers. You’d even ventured out and picked out a few books that sounded good based on the summary alone.

When the lady at the front desk rings everything up, you have to fight not to look at the total. You knew that it would put a dent in your bank account, but it was worth it. You get ready to pay when Brock taps his card quickly, not letting you even get near the screen.

“Brock. I was going to buy them.”

“No you weren’t. Like I said, my treat.”

“You’re annoying,” you say, huffing and crossing your arms over your chest in faux annoyance.

“Then you’re gonna absolutely hate it when I say I have a new bookshelf that’s arriving later today.”

“Brock! You have to stop spending your money on me frivolously.”

“It’s my money, baby, I’ll do what I want with it.”

You grab the bags of books, taking them to the car.

“Keep one out.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t say anything, just points back in the direction you just came from. You follow his finger and see the coffee shop across the street.

“Cute little cafe,” he says, and you knew he was going to try and pay for your coffee too.

The atmosphere of the coffee shop was cozy, armchairs littered throughout the space.

You look at the menu, torn between what to order. The latte flavors sounded amazing, but the chai did too.

“What are you torn between?” Brock asks in your ear, making you shiver slightly. He knew you were indecisive.

“Latte or chai.”

“Okay,” he says and goes to order. You don’t hear what he orders, but you stare at the board more. “C’mon, let’s go sit.”

“I haven’t ordered yet.”

“I did for you. Medium chai latte, one shot of espresso, 3 pumps of vanilla syrup. And a chocolate chip muffin.”

“Damnit, Brock. Let me pay you back at least.”

“No shot,” he says.

You sit down in a more quiet corner, pulling out your book. Brock’s name is called and he goes to get the coffees.

“It’s really quiet over here. I can barely hear anyone else.”

“I know,” Brock says, handing you the glass cup.

Brock scrolls on his phone while you read, but you hear him shift and then him setting his phone down on the table.

“Read to me.”

“What?”

“Read to me.”

You laugh, but you can see he’s serious. You were only a few sentences into the second chapter, so you start over. The murder mystery novel is about a medical examiner whose past confronts her when a new killer terrorizes her community. You sit like this for some time, you reading, Brock on the edge of his seat, no one bothering you two at all.

Finally, you’re a good way through the book, and you bookmark the page and set it down.

“No. We have to keep going. I need to know more. This is too interesting.”

“I know. But we’ve been here a while. We can read more at home.”

The drive home seems more rushed. Brock speeds a little bit, and when you get back to his apartment, he’s helping you grab your bags to get inside.

“Let’s read more,” he insists, seeming to be more excited about this than he seems to be about hockey sometimes.

You laugh, but open the book and continue reading. Page after page, chapter after chapter.

It’s nearly two in the morning when you look at the clock. And you flip to the last page unknowingly, unintentionally.

“Oh my God. No. That’s the worst cliffhanger ever. I need the next book now,” Brock says seriously.

“I don’t know if there is another book, babe.”

“I’m looking it up.”

He sits scrolling on his phone while you stand up to stretch, getting ready for bed.

“There is a sequel. It’s already out. We’re going to get it tomorrow. And I’ll let you buy it this time.”

“Thank you,” you say, leaning over him, planting a sweet kiss on his lips.

You two lay down to finally call it a night, cuddling together on his side of the bed, Milo and Coolie laying in their beds.

You knew they’d end up at the foot of the bed by the morning.

“Thank you for today,” you say into his collarbone.

“Thank you for reading to me.”

You just laugh, but then you think of a better solution for the next book.

“How about we get two books, we read separately and discuss?”

“Are we forming our own little book club?” he asks sarcastically.

“We could.”

He ponders for a few moments, and you’re almost asleep when he speaks again.

“No, I don't like reading. I like it when you read to me.”

Please do not copy, translate, or repost my work as your own!

Written by: @alliwritespuck (2025)

Photo from: Pinterest

Dividers from: @sweetmelodygraphics

[snoopyhughes]

Thinkin abt umich Luke getting himself caught up in some frat party to congratulate the team after a win but nobody can find him cause he's too busy fucking you on the bathroom counter while you're wearing his jersey until he can barely hold himself up on shaky legs and you're holding a hand over his mouth cause he couldn't keep the whines and whimpers to himself even if he tried 🫡

Umich!Luke is my fave concept and I love him dearly. Amour your brain always knows how to reach my heart (and ovaries) <3

The house is electric. Bodies pressed up like sardines, drinking games at every corner of the room with music blaring over the speakers, disco lights flashing and spiralling while the blue and maize banner hangs up on the wall of the living room reading, ‘CONGRATS WOLVERINES’ after another win from the hockey team. It’s pride, it’s a celebration for some but another excuse to get wasted for others. Luke’s team have spent the last twenty minutes scoping the house for him, their minds set on a game of beer pong, but they can’t find him anywhere, which is unusual for his size and iconic ‘NY’ hat he’s usually wearing, But he’s busy with his own celebration. He’s sweating, on a buzz, curls stuck to his forehead with cheeks flushed pink except he’s sober. And balls deep inside you in a bathroom. 

Luke’s ‘NY’ hat is sat on the bathroom counter next to you, his belt hanging open and jeans shimmied down just enough for his cock to nestle inside your pulsing cunt. The back of his white t-shirt bunched in your fist while your legs - bare and your panties and jeans kicked to the side on the floor - wrapped tight around his waist as he plunges vehemently in and out of you. His mind’s blank and so is yours, the paradise you’re sharing the closest to heaven you’re reaching and he’s crumbling in your arms with whimpers only you know about. You can’t blame him, you never do, the way hit tip hits the back of your cervix, the deepest points of your pussy have you breathless and your jaw unable to close, it’s like you’re pulling each other in and the pleasure’s an addiction.

He releases this staggered moan, a whiny moan and his fingers dig into your waist a little more, bruising, the slapping echoing around the walls and his whines becoming louder the faster he ruts, overwhelmed by his greed.

“Ssshh, Lu, pup, s’fucking hot when you moan,” You cup your hand over his mouth, muffling his whiny noises as he peers down with wet and hooded eyes, his movement never slowing but the intensity only increases pleasurably as if he’s getting off on your dominance, “but you gotta keep it just for me, yeah?”

He nods sheepishly, deeply breathing as you remove your hand when his mouth opens to murmur. “M’sorry, feels so good, can’t help it.”

Your hand cups his jaw, your huffs falling into sync as he fucks you, hard enough that your body’s jolting with every thrust and his hands glued to your skin. The hand that’s clutching his t-shirt regrips, your nails scratching his back and Luke wishes he’d taken his shirt off to embrace the stinging of you clawing him red. His huffing turns to grunting at the drags of his cock through your walls, until he’s whimpering again, legs trembling from the stimulation rushing through him in shockwaves, but he just can’t stop.

“Oh fuck- right there, shit-” You breath, caressing his cheek and muffling him with a heavy kiss before cooing, “I know, pretty baby. But I don’t want anyone hearing how pretty you sound, you’re mine.”

“Yours…all yours, angel.” His eyebrows pull together, a pathetic expression on his face like a puppy as his hands slip to your ass and squeeze roughly. 

Luke tilts his head back and a whine slips, a bit louder than he expected and you slap your hand over his mouth again. He gets your message and dips down to mutter in your ear, his voice raspy and exhausted and he knows he’s so close to cumming but he doesn’t want to, not when you’re squeezing his cock so snugly.

“Love when you wear my jersey, so gorgeous. Drives me insane.” His lips brush your ear, voice soaking into your eardrums and making the hairs on your neck stand on end. “Such a distraction though, you know that?”

The hand that once clamped his mouth moved to his hair, tugging it tight and purring back to him. “Maybe. Anything to get your attention. God, you feel so fucking good, Luke. Always make me feel good, treat me so well, love you so much.”

Something about your words mixed with the euphoria in his veins runs to his head, his cock twitching (which he didn’t know was possible considering how hard he already is) and his abs clenching. It’s animalistic, it’s keen, it’s a thought where he knows he needs to have you limp against his body and speechless. 

“Love you more, always. My good girl, my pretty girl. Gonna fill you up, gonna fill you full, like good boy, m’promise.” Luke mumbles, his last string of words before his vehement pace becomes brutal, using all the rest of his energy on his shaking legs to thrust his cock into you while sliding your body back and forth to match his rhythm.

The sex is heavenly. You’re clutching onto him, hand over his mouth and muffling his sounds that refuse to stay quiet, your eyes rolling back as his screw shut and you’re both teetering on the edge of perfection, paradise, your highs consuming and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this full, this satisfied, this incredible in your life. He’s splitting you in half in some frat bathroom where you’re both trying to keep quiet but it’s almost impossible with how pornographic the sight of you together is. But it’s bliss, a shared bliss, especially when you both lock eyes as orgasms rip through you.

[snoopyhughes]

if u get a ★ in ur inbox it means ur moot appreciates u, and ur efforts in the community. send this to 10 , to continue the love !!

💙💙💙☺️

me?!?! omg 🥹thank you so much lovely!! right back at you 💝💝

[snoopyhughes]

hello! can i please request water 10

air 5

earth 2

fire 2 with luke hughes? maybe you’re long distance and you get hurt or sick or something and luke drops everything to come, no matter the circumstances. thank you💝

Week off - L. Hughes

v' elements pairing: Luke Hughes x fem!reader summary: You've been feeling sick but didn't mention this to Luke until your friend stepped in and told him the truth warning: none

You and Luke started dating back in Michigan. You two met through common friends and it was a love at the first sign. Luckily you were attempting the same classes and could spend more time together. Everything between you and Luke had been perfect but deep down, you knew you can’t get used to it. 

When you met Luke, he was drafted to the NHL team. You knew that anytime, he can leave you alone at university and go to follow his dreams. That’s why you tried to spend every free second with him before you two will be forced to work a long distance. Luckily for you, when Luke had been called up to join the team, it was close to the summer break. 

While Luke had his rookie season, you had last year at university. It was tough for both of you to find time for a talk looking at each other's busy schedules but you tried your best. You knew that Luke had enough problems that’s why you hid from him the fact that you’re sick for the past month. 

You were feeling pain in your chest and felt tired. Barely you could go on your lectures where you couldn't even concentrate. Your friends were giving you their notes so you could keep up but it was tough. You just wanted to lay in the bed and sleep the whole time. When you were napping, you never heard phone calls from Luke. 

This was alarming for him. Luke knew that your sleep is not that strong and you always hear the phone. He knew that something was off with you but you told him that he’s overreacting. After a month, your roommate was tired of you acting in front of Luke. She was aware that she shouldn’t be involved but she called Luke and told him about your state and your illness. Luke felt like his world collapsed. He started feeling guilty that he wasn’t pushing you enough to admit to him. 

That’s why Luke made an irrational decision. He asked a coach if he can take a week off because of personal issues. Coach agreed and the same day, Luke flew to see you. Your roommate let him in and he saw your sleeping figure. He didn’t want to wake you up and started cleaning your side of the room. He threw away all the tissues and put your notes in order. After an hour, you started waking up and he quickly kneeled next to your bed. 

“I came as soon as I heard. Why didn’t you tell me that you’re sick?” Luke asked you and started caressing your hair. 

“You have enough on your plate to care about me plus you wouldn't do anything” You told him weakly. 

���But my friends could or my parents. Honey, we are a team. You should tell me that you’re sick especially when you’re dealing with this longer than a week” Luke said and you felt guilty. 

“I’m sorry” You whispered. 

“What can I do for you? I have a whole week for you” Luke asked you and you weakly smiled.

“Could you lay here with me?” You asked him shyly. 

“With pleasure” Luke laid next to you and you cuddled into his side. “Have you seen a doctor?” 

“Yeah. I got pills but they’re not helping me much” You shrugged. 

“Do you think we should go to the hospital for more check ups?” Luke looked at you. 

“Can we do this tomorrow?” You proposed. 

“Of course” Luke kissed the top of your head. 

“Also, shouldn’t you be in New Jersey?” You asked him after a couple minutes when you realised that the season is not over. 

“I should be right here, next to you. Don’t worry about anything” Luke told you and cuddled you.

[snoopyhughes]

Wish I was getting drunk on a boat, in a red bikini, sitting on his lap with his hands wrapped around my waist and him kissing my neck rn

[snoopyhughes]

paige and azzi can finally love each other out loud

[snoopyhughes]

omg coud you please write this idea

drew comforting actress reader when she gets slut shamed on the internet? like he gets home after filming something (drew’s not really on social media that much so he didnt notice) and just found her quieter than usual in his apartment?

he doesn’t notice right away. he’s just gotten home—bag tossed by the door, hoodie slung over one shoulder, hair still damp from filming. the city hums outside the windows, golden and lively, and the apartment smells faintly like vanilla and your shampoo.

you’re curled on the couch in oversized sweater with your knees pulled up. a show plays low on the tv but you’re not really watching. you don’t even look up when he walks in. that’s the first clue.

“hey, angel,” he says softly, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “missed you.” you hum. it’s not cold or not rude. it’s just usual. he sits beside you, arm slung across the back of the couch. you lean into him like always, but there’s a tightness in your body he can’t ignore. “long day?” he asks.

you nod, not quite meeting his eyes. he studies you. his eyes flick to your phone on the table, face down. there’s a few missed calls and one unread message. your fingers are twitching against your leg. “what happened?”

you try to shake your head and dismiss it, but your eyes are a little too glassy, your mouth a little too tight. “nothing, really. i’m fine.” you’re not. he can tell from the way your shoulders curve inward. from the way you keep pressing your lips together like you’re swallowing something bitter.

he wait, doesn’t push, just slides his hand gently over your thigh, thumb stroking small, grounding circles. “talk to me,” he murmurs. it’s the way he says it—soft and slow.

your throat tightens. “it’s stupid,” you whisper. “people are just…saying shit online.”

his brows knit. “about what?”

“the new promo dropped today,” you say, voice cracking at the edges. “and apparently me laughing with my male costars means i deserve to get called a slut in every comment section.”

drew’s quiet for a beat. you don’t look at him. you’ve always known he doesn’t really keep up with social media. he doesn’t check the trending tags or refresh your name twenty times a day like you do when something blows up. “baby,” he says, voice low and so gentle it undoes you. “come here.”

you finally look at him. there’s no shock or anger on his face. just this calm, protective ache, like he wishes he could reach through the screen and shut every mouth for you. you climb into his lap without a word. he wraps you in his arms like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

your cheek rests against his shoulder. your hands twist in the hem of his sweatshirt. “i know i shouldn’t let it get to me,” you whisper. “but it just—makes me feel disgusting. like i deserved it.”

his fingers tangle in your hair. he kisses your temple. “hey,” he says, and it’s firm now. quiet, but sharp. “you didn’t. you hear me?” you nod, eyes stinging. “it’s not about what you did or how you looked. it’s about control.” he pauses just to make sure you’re listening. “people see someone shining, someone beautiful, and they try to cut them down because they’re unhappy.”

you sniff. “i don’t feel beautiful or shining right now.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you and cups your face in both hands. “you are,” he says. “even when you’re hurt, even when it’s hard, and especially when you keep going anyway.”

your lip trembles. he leans in and kisses it soft. “i love you,” he murmurs against your skin. “every version. the tough one. the messy one. the one who’s brave enough to be vulnerable in front of millions of people.”

you breathe—finally. it’s the first real breath you’ve taken since you saw the hate. it shudders through your chest like a dam breaking. “you don’t have to go through this alone, ok?” he says. “not when i’m right here.”

you nod and let yourself sink into him. you relax into his hands, his arms, his entire being. the rest can wait. for now, it’s just you, him, and the kind of love that doesn’t rely on public image.

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[snoopyhughes]

see this is how i know im not a jack girl bc he objectively looks fine as fuck here but all I can focus on is the loser in the child size salmon bucket hat