#The Devil x reader

[fennecfics]

Cuphead Show! King Dice & Devil x Reader preferences (romantic):

Heyyyy I’m gonna be posting more x Reader stuff here. Also some words are censored because Tumblr is a meanie and won’t let me swear in my fanfiction-

The gender for (Y/n) is vague, but it does have menstrual cycle preferences mixed in, along with some talk about these two respecting pronouns and that jazz so, yeah.

Hope it’s a fun read, I might post more of these guys.

Being in a (romantic) relationship with The Devil would include:

• It’s actually hard for him to fall in love or even trust others, so it’ll take a while for him to say “I love you”.

• Though the first time he’ll ever say “I love you” (most likely after a few months of you two dating) it is immediately followed by a scrunch of the face and him going. “That was… strange..” 

• He forces you to live in Hell with him, and only lets you visit Earth on special occasions. Family stuff, friends, but other than that YOU’RE STAYING!!

• He’s so dramatic whenever he has to cut his nails. He’ll run away from you, or hide. Once, while trying to find him to cut his nails, you found him on the ceiling.

• Despite hating his nails being cut, he will literally beg you to paint his nails. He won't just do one color though, he likes to change it up a bit. Sometimes he'll ask for grey, gold, red, but he loves the black nail polish!

• Whenever he has to do stuff that he doesn’t want to do, he tries to argue that he’s the devil and because of that, you can’t tell him what to do.

• One of his favorite activities is burning bibles, so...you have to deal with being woken up to the smell of smoke at 3AM.

• He's still not fond with current technology, but he does seem to enjoy Netflix.

• Devil giving you weird pet names: Darlin', succub!tch, shmoopie, baby-cakes, cow-pie, and tortoise-pigeon (Being the main nickname).

• If you ever need to practice your makeup on someone, Devil won't mind. He likes how it makes him look.

• Surprisingly enough, this guy brushes his teeth regularly. He got them pearly whites. That, and he doesn't want to loose his sharp teeth, they're his favorite, apparently they make him look intimidating.

• Devil is a man of art, very therapeutic for him. He loves to paint, sometimes he’ll want you to pose for him. And he's actually quite quick when it comes to painting.

• Both you and Henchmen helping him whenever he basically gets electrocuted by the sweater. The two of you are practically the only people he trusts, with Dice being the third.

• He doesn't care what gender you are, or if you're trans. If you're still you, and if you're not lying about anything, he won't care. Along with that he also doesn’t KNOW anything about that stuff, so you probably gotta help if you want him to understand.

• Even though he's the devil, he would never want you to feel bad about yourself. He loves you unconditionally, he would kill anyone who makes you feel that way, steal their soul, eat it, then spit it back out ‘cause it’s clearly rotten!

• If you go through the menstrual cycle and are having bad cramps, he gets very…awkward. He’s not very affectionate with others so he has no idea how to comfort people. He’ll most likely just have some of his little demons looking after you for a few days.

• He tries to use correct pronouns, he mostly slips up though, and he won't realize. You just have to be there to correct him for him to actually notice.

Random example:

(He's showing you to someone)

"Yeah, she's really adorable, isn't she?"

"It's 'they'.”

"...AHHH!" *frustrated demon noises*

• He’s not frustrated at you or the fact you use different pronouns, he’s frustrated at himself for not doing it right. So don’t worry.

Being in a relationship with King Dice would include:

• Probably says “I love you” way too fast, and by that I mean on the first date. 

• If you wear makeup he’ll experiment with it whenever you’re asleep. (The masculine urge to wear your partner’s makeup)

• One of his favorite parts of your body happens to be your hands. He loves how perfectly they fit into his. Sometimes he’ll preform a type of show using his hand and your hand as the actors.

• If you go sit in the audience him during Roll The Dice. He'll immediately see you in the crowd and blush for the rest of the show.

• When he knows you're in the audience, he'll say this while announcing to everyone: "Ladies and gentlemen! ..and (Y/n).." (he'll whisper your name under his breath, but loud enough for the microphone to pick it up.)

• King Dice ALSO giving you some (semi)weird pet names: Darling, fuzzy dice, you adorable gambler, my wild card, little poker, and pumpkin.

• The personification of drama. 

• Has a lot of gossip and info on the other famous people of Inkwell. Will tell you this gossip. You will listen. You have no choice-

• This man may seem like he knows how to do shit on his own, but he actually needs help with most things. Such as you having to help with this man's bow-tie every morning, because he just cannot figure it out for the life of him.

• Perfectionist, such a damn perfectionist. He won't go on with his day without him looking perfectly chipper, and he also spends hours in the shower. Really making sure to run up those water bills.

• A little sensitive about his age. If you ask him about it, he’ll say "that's not important" which is an oddly a creepy answer-

• If you wake up early, you'll find Dice in the bathroom just looking at himself in the mirror with a blank stare. If you actually enter the bathroom, he'll be so terrified that he jumps INTO the shower and closes the curtain to hide himself.

• He's mostly insecure about his pips, or dots. He knows he's getting old, because his color is fading. So...he buys lipstick to cover the faded coloring. But you smudged it once while he was kissing you, and he reacted like he was dying.

• He fiddles with his mustache when he's nervous and yet hates if tell him it makes him look like a villain.

• Much like his boss, if you go through the menstrual cycle he gets ungracefully awkward. But he tries to be very casual about it, despite his awkwardness being obvious as hell.

• “Oh, it’s that week?” Silent for a second. “Do you need me to get you anything or ..no?”

• Will buy you everything you need. And since stuff like tampons were fairly new in the 1930s and therefore most likely a tad expensive, thankfully he does have the money for it.

• If reminded, will carry some on him for you. If reminded that is, I’m putting emphasis on “IF REMINDED” for a f—king reason! Guy’s on autopilot all day, he’s famous but also has pretty much everything done for him, and so he doesn’t have to think about much.

• If not reminded he will completely forget and therefore freak the hell out if asked if for some.

• Like The Devil, he has no idea what being Non-binary means, or Bisexual, or anything related to that. I’m not saying he’s straight….He’s not, he just doesn’t know there are words for stuff like that other than ‘homosexual’ and a few other words I can’t mention-

• So, he'll mess up a few times when trying to use the correct pronouns, except he'll correct himself very VERY quickly. 

• "He- THEY.. are my partner. I said they, of course I did. I would never say anything other than they.” Silence for a few seconds before then saying in a much more serious tone: “I said they.”

• He cares. He’s just stupid/j

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Can I please request the Devil from Cuphead with a Lilith s/o? Where they were an early version of Eve that knew Devil before his fall and also fell with him. They too went through a transformation, one that made them insecure as Devil is with his own transformation.

A/N: This was an interesting request! The story of Lilith has always fascinated me. Not to mention that, like the Devil, the numerous pieces of art that were inspired by her tale are absolutely gorgeous! If you haven’t seen it, I’d recommend giving John Collier’s Lilith a look-see!!

I believe I accidentally misread some of the initial request, so the reader falls/transforms before the Devil does. This batch is a little bit heftier than my usual work, so if you’re unhappy with the results, feel free to shoot me a dm so I can make any adjustments where needed!!

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The Devil with Lilith!S/O:

The Devil’s earliest memories of you traced back to when you were nothing more than a whispered name. Long ago, when he still held a place in his father’s heart, the Devil had watched your conception. 

Even now, the Devil could recall his father’s mumbling under his breath,  enraptured in a conversation of one. The few times the Devil (well, he was Lucifer back then) passed by his office, he could faintly make out his father’s muffled muttering through the door. Most of which were near unintelligible. Save for two names: Adam and Lilith.

After his older brothers’ incessant pestering, the Devil snuck into his father’s office. Crumpled paper balls, broken sticks of charcoal, and empty ink wells littered the floor; the Holy One’s once pristine office left neglected in its master’s fitful working.  

A few steps in, his foot suddenly slid forward. Paper ripped beneath his dress shoe with a loud shriek, startling the angel. Cursing, he lifted his foot up. Beneath him laid two torn halves of a sketch page. A man– broad, curly-haired, and with eyes like a dairy cow– stared up at him; the imprint of the Devil’s shoe marring his otherwise perfect face. 

On the other half was another figure. Sharp, piercing eyes and long hair that flowed  like a waterfall. Ah, so you must be Lilith. It was fascination at first sight. Gingerly, he had picked up the half that housed your striking visage. Without another word, the Devil pocketed it. 

He didn’t know what possessed him to take it. Instinct? Possessiveness? Even now, long after he fell from Heaven, he’s unsure. All the Devil knew was that he wanted to stare and marvel at you for hours on end.

God found out about his son’s trespassing not long after the incident. However, he couldn’t find it within him to be angry towards his favorite son. Instead, he had nurtured the young man’s curiosity. Not that Lucifer ever retained any of his father’s impassioned ramblings. He was much more interested in you. 

“They are to be Adam’s wife,” his father explained, a smile present on his ancient face. A pang ripped through the Devil’s chest. Though he couldn’t quite place why.

By the time his father finally began to sculpt you and your husband to be, the Devil thought whatever torch he carried would fizzle out.  

It did not. 

From the moment you opened your eyes, he had been ensnared. Shyness shook his normally so confident core. And to think that all it took was a gentle tilt of your head and a wry smile. A mirthful glint shone in your eyes as the Devil fought to hide the blush steadily overtaking his face. 

The Devil avoided you like the plague after your birth. He threw himself into his work– hoping that having you out of sight would put an end to this nonsense. Little did he know that absence only made the heart grow fonder. 

He was forced to sit back and observe the object of his obsession from afar– lest he’d make a blithering fool of himself. You were different from most of his father’s pet projects. Disinterested. Both in the role you were given and your husband. 

You always seemed to stare off into the distance. Towards the horizon. Paying the lush paradise and your husband no mind. Hell, you’d even looked annoyed when the only other human around spoke to you. 

The Devil didn’t recognize it then, but you, too, hungered for more; more than what you have, for beyond the garden grounds. Most of all, neither of you wished to be subservient to anyone. 

No matter how much he had tried, you never were able to bond or love Adam like God wanted to. What started out as courteous neutrality steadily gave way into contempt. Resentment bubbled beneath your stony exterior like magma within the earth. You were a ticking time bomb rigged to explode, and the Devil watched on with bated breath.

One day, you snapped. Neither you or the Devil could remember what started the argument. Only that it was enough for you to lash out and claw at your husband’s cheek– your eyes wide and teeth bared like a feral hellcat. Adam was quick to crumple to the ground, hissing in pain. You darted off into the underbrush, the rustles of disturbed foliage and the snaps of breaking twigs following in your wake.

By the time God had found out of your transgressions, you were long gone. No one could find where you ran off to. And though the Devil and his brothers were told to leave the incident behind, one look at his father’s face was enough to say it all: the deity was absolutely livid.

Hours turn into days, days into weeks. Time becomes a blur. Adam gains a new wife, and all is well in the garden once more. The bond between father and son weakens with each passing day; all the while your feral visage burned itself into the Devil’s mind. 

Then that fateful rebellion happened. A sword– burning like the rage within his former brother’s eyes– is pressed to the Devil’s neck; a clear victor had been declared. 

Shortly after, he fell. Screaming and burning until he was only a vague resemblance of his former self.

Life after falling wasn’t easy. He was alone, stripped of any power or influence,  and the phantom pains had haunted him constantly. His wings were broken and useless, forcing him to wander the hellscape by foot, and his appearance— oh, how he had changed. 

Truly, the Devil had hit rock bottom. 

And then, you came back into his life. 

In the centuries– eons– of his existence,  the Devil finds himself at a loss of words around you. You’d regarded him with a level of distrust at first– especially since he had accidentally let it slip that he’s known of your existence before you rebelled. 

It also didn’t help that, in spite of the fall scarring you– having charred the flesh of your arms and legs to a blackened and cracked state; feathers, dark and oil-slick like a raven, grew in uneven patches around your eyes, arms and thighs; and legs twisted and bent until they resembled the hind legs of a goat, complete with hooves – he thought you were absolutely gorgeous. 

It takes a long time for you to trust him. Especially since the last thing you had wanted was to bow down to Heaven’s disgraced golden child.  The two of you shared an acquaintanceship for a while– your interactions kept brief. However, you couldn’t deny that you were a little curious about the man. 

Soon enough, a working business relationship blooms between the two of you. The Devil comes to you in search of information– be it the whereabouts of potential contracts or certain souls on his list. In return, you gain a favor from the soon-to-be King of Hell; you saw how quickly he’s amassing power, you’d be a fool to pass up having someone as influential as him underneath your thumb. 

Not to mention that you may or may not have begun to enjoy spending time with him. What was once small shared rants on how much Heaven sucked ended up developing into something more. 

Once the Devil finally establishes his casino in Inkwell Hell, you find yourself treated as a guest of honor. You’ll be treated better than royalty within velvet-lined walls, an entourage of imps tending to your every whim, and drinks and food are given to you free of charge. Not to mention you have free reign to enter his office or balcony seat whenever you please. 

Acquaintanceship blossoms into an easy, flirtatious.. Whatever you two are. The Devil isn’t sure what to name the relationship he has with you at this point. You both share the same dry, sardonic sense of humor and are content to co-exist in comfortable silence – a part of him rather not muddy one of the few good things he has because he decided to think with his other head, so to speak. 

Then again, there are certain moments where he wonders..

You’d light the end of your thin cigarette against the plump tip of his cigar, eyes hooded and lips pursed as you hummed a low thanks; occasionally glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Chuckling to yourself every time he flushes and grumbles to himself. 

Every now and then you’ll indulge in drinks within his personal office. Occasionally you’d partake of his own cup, gently pressing your lips where his own rested not too long ago. Taking care to slowly lick at your lower lip each time you catch him staring. 

The way you’d pause whenever the larger demon would casually brush  a stray head feather back into place, gently dragging a claw against the vane in his own version of grooming. A shy flush overtaking your cheeks, turning away and covering your mouth as you grumble out to warn you next time.. 

How your gaze softens and body melts when either one of you recall the fall from grace; lamenting former glories and how your transformation left its scars, offering a saddened smile whenever he scoffs at the very idea that your were any less beautiful. 

For as long as both of you existed, for as much as both of you constantly blur the lines of platonic comradery and something the Devil dare not name in fear of getting his hopes up– the two of you are painfully oblivious.

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[yanderecuphead]

Got more on Yandere Devil?

SO much to say honestly!

Summary: Headcanons for The Devil, but also the Cup/Mug brothers making him look like a fool

He’s so obsessive (which I probably said before)

He loves looking at you and he holds his chin in his hand and stares at you

Whenever your away, he watches you through a mirror like portal/crystal ball

He wants to impress you by catching the Cups

You were there when they tricked him and he was so embarrassed he swore he’d catch them both and prove to you he’s not a loser (even though you never thought that)

“Look! Y/n I caught them!”

^ “Um… They’re gone”

He looks at the Cage and is shocked to see that the cup brothers are gone

He blushes a dark red, before throwing the cage and going back to his throne room, not saying anything to you. You watch confused but shrugging it off

Each time they get away, you get there just as he loses them

“Y/n! Hurry! I’ve finally got them!!”

At this point, he’s just tired of them making a fool infront of you

When he does finally catch them he’s so excited, he’s practically jumping

He gets you immediately and you’re surprised

“Oh! They are real!” You were surprised, not thinking them to be real. “Oh, dear, you’re not going to keep him in there are you?”

He’s confused because he’s always wanted you to see him catch the brothers that have been making a fool out of him, but now you’re on his side???

He’s angry and ignores you

Gives you the silent treatment

Though, it doesn’t last long because he can’t stay mad at you for long

Though he can be a little passive aggressive

But you just brushed him off

His henchmen like you, much to his annoyance, so when he’s mad you, his henchman just take your attention and hang out with you. Which, only upsets the Devil even further and he just gets huffier, but he’s mad you’re not hanging with him, but he also is mad and wants to ignore you, but because he’s ignoring you he’s not able to be around you because that would mean you win. (God that’s a mouth full lol)

He wants you to apologize to him and practically forces one out of you

Once you do apologize though, he’s stuck to you like a leech and doesn’t wanna leave your side

[chaoticyumelikes]

20 days ago someone asked me for this but unfortunately Tumblr ate the ask so I don't remember the user 😔 but remembered the ask! So here goes:

The Devil x Gn! Angel Reader

Well, well, well, how WAS your fall?

Well he used to be an angel too before he was unceremoniously kicked out due to... Heh... History. So color him surprised when he sees an angel of all things in his domain.

He had to rescue you from getting bullied by the regular denizens of the Underworld where they wanted to clip away your fluffy feathered wings. With the rise of an eyebrow while he looked at you, judging you and asking you what are you doing in the Underworld. Have you fallen from grace? Took a wrong turn in the geological or morality compass? It matters not, your presence will be met with irritation, annoyance and if you happen to be a true angel inside as well as out, you will be straight up irksome to him. So naturally he will keep you as a pet.

He misses Heaven though he will never ever admit it. So guess what? You're not going back. Suffer as he has... Kinda. He cannot be overly cruel to you... If you play your cards right of course. But he will never let you go back. You landed on his turf so evidently you belong to him now. If you behave nicely he will give you some freedoms such as walking around his abode without escorts but do NOT stray from him, "Not every demon is as handsome and compassionate as me, dear." He swears he developed a sixth sense when you (accidentally or not) stray a bit much to his liking. He gets snappy with everyone till he reaches you and (gently) grabs your hand to move you next to his throne before he incinerates everyone. Heck, the demons learn this very quickly, so any meetings with their boss they will look for you and kindly ask you to join (you're an angel, so you won't refuse the shivering demons' request...)

On the off chance you are an angel that he used to know be prepared to be relentlessly mocked by him, and him alone.

Not many get to interact with you as they fear their lord's wrath and consequently his pitchfork. Henchman is the only obvious exception. He is far too devoted to his master and thus has the Devil's trust.

You thought you'd have to learn about the Devil by asking Henchman but to your surprise not only the Devil tells you of his life he sets up a whole theatre act around it. When you genuinely clap at his performances his grin could not have been bigger. Finally! Someone of culture!

You bet that after you applaud him you just sealed your fate. He will try to convert you to his ways. He wants you always by his side being his "Yes-angel". Of course, since you are your own person/angel fights are gonna happen when you disagree even the tiniest bit.

Be ready for his tantrums. His very fiery, very dramatic, 6-year-old-worthy tantrums. Fortunately, since you are an angel you have powers, so you can block his fire (Henchman and King Dice have used you as a shield more than once. Not just as a flame shield but they believe their boss grows a bit soft at your general presence and you are a literal angel, you'd protect them anyhow... Right?)

Out of curiosity, he will investigate the why of your fall. Was it a logistical error that you were sent to Hell and not Heaven? Or something else. Won't ever tell you if he finds out though. You'll never know he is investigating your past either. You will suspect it however when his teasing gets a bit more personal tho.

Has pet your wings more than once. His wings were fluffier and prettier than yours (his words) but he misses his wings sometimes (would never let anyone know). If you envelop him in your wings... He complains all the while getting comfortable and sighing. Will even feign a glare or two, but you can see totally he doesn't really mean it.

Do not EVER give the Old Scratch a ride from you. For one he can fly, another reason is... You'll have to give him rides EVERYWHERE. Should you refuse him... He will become so dramatically heartbroken which in turn plays your heartstrings to the sound of guilt and... Dammit it works.

Despite his constant complaining he enjoys your company a lot. He even starts seeing you as an equal. He even starts falling for you (after he mistakes it for allergies and keeps a distance from you but then he misses you and like a cat he will impose himself for you to give him all the attention).

You'll only ever believe he loves you when he protects you from his less loyal minions or lost souls unfortunate enough to even touch you. His wrath will know no bounds.

The Cuphead brothers once tried to "free" you by literally grabbing you and escaping the place. To the brothers' absolute surprise not only do you tell them you want to stay, the Devil himself gets vicious and unrelenting in getting you back he almost manages to get their souls. Fortunately, your immediate "surrender" and staying by his side manages to somewhat calm him. The brothers definitely make a mental note to never do that again EVER.

Do not expect this boss of demons to say he loves you. He has a reputation to uphold mind you. Nooo, you're the one that must take the initiative.... And after him teasing the sh*t out of you for even saying such a thing he will accept the relationship. Be prepared to be always in his arms in private. He has to be touching you almost constantly in some way, even if it is his tail wrapped around you. Will complain and mope around though (like a cat) if you say something about it.

Be ready to be covered in his fur as he is ready to have some of your feathers somewhere on him. Any witness that blurts out something about it it's immediately dealt with.

[defectivevillain]

deliver me not

pairing: The Devil/Reader

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary:

“I’m not sure if a Major Arcana can die,” Asra had said. “After all, they’re ideas. Concepts. And an idea can’t truly die.” In the months following your confrontation, The Devil whispers to you.

word count: 2k | ao3 version

warnings: spoilers to the main storyline of the game & Julian’s upright route. chains and temporary imprisonment; suggestive remarks.

The seven of you—Mazelinka, Nadia, Nazali, Portia, Julian, Asra, and you—defeated The Devil and eradicated the plague. Vesuvia is returning to its former glory, with beautiful crystalline waters flowing through the canals and bright-eyed, healthy citizens ambling about the streets. Everyone is peaceful and happy.

… But you’re still uneasy. 

You toss and turn at night, frequently dreaming of the ominous crimson skies from The Devil’s realm. You often wake up in the morning to a sweltering hot bedroom and scratches along your arms, as if something is clawing at you during your slumber. And those scarlet eyes, that haunting, sharp-toothed grin… They follow you into your waking life. You start to see The Devil everywhere: between vendors of the Red Market, standing outside the window of your shop, lurking in the dark corners of the palace.

Eventually, you grow restless enough to consult your cards. Taking a slow breath, you shuffle the deck and pick one card… only to find The Devil upright. He almost seems to leer at you from the card. You blink and the two humans beneath him disappear, replaced with a solitary figure. Your own face stares back at you, a length of chain around your shoulders inextricably connecting you back to The Devil. 

Your heart races in your chest as you’re drawn back to what Asra told you all those months ago. “I’m not sure if a Major Arcana can die,” he had said. “After all, they’re ideas. Concepts. And an idea can’t truly die.”  

Unnerved and unsettled, you put away your cards and spend the rest of the day fighting off your spiraling thoughts. By the time night falls, you’ve already closed the shop. You’re inexplicably exhausted, despite the fact that you haven’t done any strenuous physical activity today. You eventually decide to stop thinking about it and get ready for bed. Sleep comes easily that night, especially with your desperation for an escape from reality. 

But you don’t get to rest, because you soon open your eyes to find yourself in the Devil’s realm once more. And he isn’t like you left him. He’s not a frozen statue; instead, he sits on his throne and looks down at you with a bored expression. 

Foreboding sends goosebumps across your skin. You shouldn’t be here. Did he manage to summon you? You thought you had successfully contained him during your last battle. The thought of having to fight for the city and your friends again is enough to send a renewed wave of exhaustion through you. You stare up at The Devil. “What did you do?” You demand tiredly, the words falling from your lips before you can stop them.  

“Me?” The Devil asks innocently. He’s staring at you as if you’re a particularly meddlesome pest. “I’ve done nothing.” The mere implication almost seems to offend him. 

“I see you everywhere,” you say before you can stop yourself. “I keep returning to your realm. And whenever I try to do a reading for myself, I get your card.” 

Something makes The Devil’s glittering eyes snap towards you with frightening speed. Then he laughs and laughs. The air almost seems to vibrate with malice, as a truly dangerous grin rises on his lips and his eyes flash with interest. “You have no idea what you just admitted to.” 

“What?” You choke out. The smug expression on his face is deeply unsettling. 

“You’re straying from your path, Fool,” he remarks cryptically. His ambiguity is perplexing. At your confusion, The Devil only sighs impatiently. “Your patron Arcana whispers to you,” he continues. 

Suddenly you understand exactly what he’s insinuating. The Devil is claiming to be your patron Arcana—claiming that you resemble him. “No, that’s-” You argue. “That’s not true. I’m not like you.” You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince; The Devil seems to recognize this, if the twisted smirk on his face is any indication. The very thought of being similar to him is enough to make you nauseous. 

“Oh, but it is true,” he grins. His composure is only making you more angry. The Devil is infuriatingly calm and unbothered. “There’s darkness within you. And greed. You’re unsatisfied because you want more.” 

You shake your head silently, entirely speechless. 

“Besides, there’s no need for pretense here,” the Devil says casually, gesturing to the crimson skies around him. Indeed, it is only the two of you in this realm, this moment. “You reject your mortal companions. You’re growing restless, impatient.” 

You grit your teeth and ignore his baseless accusations. “We defeated you,” you remind him. It wasn’t all that long ago, either. 

“Temporarily,” The Devil shrugs. He taps his fingers against the arm of his throne with a casual impatience. You feel that familiar fury rising in your chest once more as you stare at him, entirely unaffected by your hateful glare. Instead, he only looks more intrigued. 

It happens in slow motion. One moment, you’re watching him warily; the next, chains are surrounding you—wrapping around your arms and legs, slowly pulling you closer to The Devil and his throne. You try to summon your magic, but you can’t reach it—as if there’s an impenetrable darkness blocking you. The chains continue to drag you forward relentlessly, until you’re far too close to The Devil. You try to fight back, but the manacles only grip you even tighter. Your writhing is subdued, until you’re left standing before him like a pinned butterfly. 

The Devil scrutinizes you with an appraising eye. “Not a bad look for you, magician,” he grins. Equal sentiments of anger and something uncomfortably close to embarrassment fight for prominence. You try to keep your composure, despite every bone in your body screaming at you to escape somehow, someway. The chains almost seem to writhe and crawl along your skin, and their movements only reinforce the strength of their grip. You can hear your heart roaring in your ears. 

“You’re afraid of me,” he states clinically. You don’t bother arguing—the rapidity of your breaths and the swift thrumming of your pulse only further prove his point. The Devil hums. “Yet you do not cower. You don’t try to wager. You still fight.”

You don’t know what to say. It’s hard enough to breathe past the iron-knuckled grip of his chains—let alone find the right words to utter. You can only hope your contempt gleams in your eyes; and, it must, because The Devil smiles. 

He motions languidly and the chains drag you a step closer. “Aren’t you tired of fighting?” The Devil questions. His voice is deep and entrancing. “This is nothing more than a petty feud to me. But that pesky resolve of yours… could very well make this span your entire lifetime.”

The chains tug you down, as if trying to make you kneel. You stumble into an awkward genuflect, your hand hitting the ground as you try to push yourself back up. You will never bow to The Devil. You repeat that promise like a mantra in the back of your mind, until you manage to get yourself to stand up again. 

A vicious grin is practically painted on The Devil’s face, and you start to come to a hopeless realization. Whatever you do will intrigue him. Regardless of how you attempt to oppose him, he will find glee and entertainment in it. He enjoys this twisted game of cat-and-mouse—enjoys forcing you to acknowledge his presence and go along with his plans. “Is this how you wish to spend the years you have left: fighting for the ungrateful?” 

That statement cuts deep. You think of Nadia and Portia smiling at one another; to Asra and his parents, residing within the palace; to Muriel, finally free from his curse; and to Julian, who can roam the streets as an innocent man. They have all moved on. They… left you behind. Your friends left you to the wreckage of their own actions—the consequences of their decisions. 

You immediately berate yourself for even considering a deal with The Devil. He makes things sound too good to be true—that’s what he does. You know better than to be taken in with his false promises. The air is stiff and oppressive, manufacturing an urgent irritation and envy within you. 

The chains suddenly yank you forward again, allowing The Devil to reach out to you. You instinctively lean backwards, but there’s nowhere for you to go. Instead, you’re left breathing hard as his fingers travel up your throat mockingly. Surely he must feel the rapidity of your pulse beneath his fingertips. But he only scrutinizes you quietly, his gaze intense enough to send shivers down your spine. Then his hand rises to cradle your jaw and he tilts your head to the side. There’s a strangely focused expression on his face, as if he’s looking for something. You can only hope he doesn’t find it. 

Then, without explanation, The Devil tilts your head to the other side. Quick as lightning, his other hand is extended—and he drags a long, clawed finger down your cheek. It’s enough to puncture your skin and draw blood, pulling a pained hiss from your lips. After an immeasurable time spent in quiet appraisal, The Devil makes an assenting noise and his hand finally falls from your face. You wince at the feeling of blood dripping down your cheek. 

“I won’t make a deal with you.” You promise with all the conviction you can muster. 

“You will,” The Devil says smoothly. There’s no heat in his argument—only a cool rationality, as if he knows exactly what will happen. “Don’t fear: I can wait. I have all the time in the world, after all.” You don’t goes unsaid, but you hear it anyway. He’s right—your mortal life is all you have. And while a few decades is nothing more than the blink of an eye for The Devil, it’s a good chunk of your lifetime. Can you really live like this for that long? Can you keep fighting tirelessly—pushing away that relentless exhaustion that only draws closer on your heels? 

You try to get out of the chains once more, surprised to notice a faint trace of your magic returning. With The Devil distracted, you channel your energy into breaking the chains—and they slowly begin to snap around you, leaving you just enough room to escape them. 

“I see you’re growing impatient,” The Devil’s voice cuts through the static in your mind. You blink and the chains around you disappear, leaving only a persistent ache in your muscles as a reminder. Before you can even begin to speak, your vision is fading to black as the Devil leaves you with one last parting remark. “Very well. We will meet again soon.” The crimson skies around you morph into a starless night sky, submerging you in darkness. 

You wake up in a cold sweat, tangled in your sheets and sprawled across your bed. Groaning, you push yourself up and head to the bathroom, wanting to cool yourself off. You reach down and pour some water into your hands, before rinsing off your face. A stinging sensation on the left side of your face makes you pause; you wince and squint at your reflection in the mirror, only to find a jagged cut tearing through your cheek: right where The Devil ran his clawed finger along your skin mere moments ago. 

You take a shuddering breath, trying to come to terms with the physical evidence of the reality you just unwittingly transported yourself to. As you stare at yourself in the mirror, you realize there are bruises crawling up and down your forearms—from where the chains had been. That was no mere dream. You visited The Devil’s realm—and he let you leave. Willingly. 

The certainty in his voice still haunts you. Is your descent into darkness really as inevitable as he makes it seem? It takes concentrated effort for you to calm yourself down enough to return to bed. And even when you do, The Devil’s smooth voice follows you into your nightmares—imploring you to take your place at his side.

thanks for reading! <3

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[silkythewriter]

Headcanons about the reader who got hospitalized

Summary: reader got hospitalized by a freak accident, but many people come visit her <3

Small warning!: This is a devil x reader! So if your not into that I completely understand and you can scroll pass this!

Small note!: This was requested by an anon in my messages!<3

Fandom!: Cuphead/Cup bros

Daily song suggestion!:

The worry this man got when he heard you were in the hospital was almost deadly, and only dreadfulness was felt that moment-

He B lines it straight to the Inkwell Isle’s hospital he’s quicker then light at this very moment honestly people didn’t even notice him zoom by as he searched the hospital desperate to find you on the hospital bed as only the worse images came to mind

Once he did find you, oh boy tears where already forming, you weren’t hurt to bad, but still needed some rest in the hospital to get some wounds covered up and disinfected, but to this man it seemed as if you were on your deathbed, he was quick to run over to you and ask what happened and who he need to hurt- which honestly is a bit concerning but you’ll have to worry about that later (⇀v↼💦)

He was all over the place honestly, this man can barely handle a scratch on you so imagine seeing his precious on a hospital bed with some bandages on their arms and legs- he was holding you and cradling your head in his arm as he dramatically cried- you were honestly just humoring this experience because of how he was acting- one minute he’s crying over you and the next he’s swearing to the pits of hell he’ll damn whoever or whatever did this, yea maybe not the best moment for him🥲

Stays with you almost 24/7 with no expectations!….until the nurse screamed when she saw him looking down at you in your hospital bed, and honestly her shrieking almost made him tumble back, but he only looked at her as his eyes basically staring daggers into her, she was quick to gulp down another scream and just went stumbling her way out of the room while mouthing a small “sorry” that her frantic mind couldn’t even let her say that clearly

Needless to say he made sure you got the best treatment and room no matter what and always made sure to be at your call at any minute

He summoned his henchmen to stay with you while he cleared some things up with the front desk and made some forced arrangements to get you the more opened room then the supposedly cramped one that he just didn’t enjoy seeing you In but trust me he was fast with making them sense he didn’t wanna spend a minute without making sure your okay <3 but still business does call so whenever he’s out he’ll make sure to make his henchmen watch over you and take care of you while also giving many updates

Once he’s back in the room he’s quick to make his henchmen go out and buy some actually good pillows and some comfortable blankets some unlike the itchy one they gave you aswell as some favorite snacks of yours if it’s okay for you to eat them （＾ｖ＾）

When the cup brothers got the news of your hospitalization they only looked at each other with shocked expressions before thanking whoever told them and running of to you, they were a bit more slower then the devil though as they had to wait in the waiting room before cuphead got tired and bored of waiting and just grabbed his brother by the hand a sneaked his way pass the doors even with his brother quietly protesting his action but with no success in convincing him to go back

Once they found you cuphead almost slammed the door opened to check up on you only to see the Devil already standing there with a snarl as he eyed them, you most likely had the hold him back and calm him down before he had the chance to blow up at the two siblings ( 💧ಡ ︵ ಡ )

Mugman is most likely a bit shaken up after seeing the state your in he’s probably less worried then the devil as he knows you’ll be okay but still he’s never seen one of his closest friends get into a state like this so you can probably understand why he’s so shaken

On the other hand cuphead is just off asking questions like “what happened oh! Oh! Did you fight someone:0?!?” Yea… he’d probably be asking for some explanation or story to feed his curiosity he’s most definitely worried of course but hes a very curious cup so if you have the energy he’ll just sit at the end of the bed listening intently!

After realizing how much you actually have to stay for their quick to offer something to pass time like games and such! Which the devil just rolled his eyes at while trying shoo them off but with no avail much to his dismay

The two cups excused themselves as they went racing back home to collect a small box under their bed filled with bored games, cards, and much more things they’d think you’d enjoy! But while rushing into their room and collecting the needed stuff cuphead let it slip what happened to you when elder kettle asked why they were in such a rush, elder kettle only frowned before getting an idea and lighting up once again. “Well if your off to see her once again would you be able to deliver these freshly made cookies? I’m sure she’d enjoy something sweet in this quite bitter situation” he said before walking off and getting a small basket filled with various sweets which mugman and cuphead gladly accepted and thanked the old man for the sweets and swore to deliver them safely too you!

Mugman had to slap cuphead hand multiple times while he tried to sneak a treat for himself which he only groaned and begged his brother to let it slide but Mugman made sure they were actually delivered safely unlike his brother that tried devouring the delicious treats

Once they arrived at the hospital cuphead was quick to runoff with the box filled to the brim with activity’s while Mugman only sighed and ran after his brother while making sure not to swing the basket filled with sweets, once they both made it to your room they quickly opened the door and excitedly told you what they brought for you! Mugman was the first to place the basket onto your lap as he explained how elder kettle had made some and wanted to offer them to you, you could only smile at the old man’s generosity as the smell of baked goods filled the room. Cuphead went second as he placed the box onto a bear by seat and scooted it next to you to show the items inside, bored games and care games filled the little box aswell as tennis balls and other enjoyable things!

Cuphead most likely asked for some of the baked goods aswell while Mugman scolded him about asking nicely and saying please, you could only giggle at the two before handing them some each and smiling while telling them you had enough to go around! Cuphead only stuck his tongue out to his brother while taking a sweet from your head as Mugman only rolled his eyes and punched the bridge of his nose and taking his sweet while thanking you with a small smile. Cuphead was quick to munch away while making conversation with you while Mugman joined

After visiting hours were over they thanked you while smiling and saying how much they enjoyed their stay, they made sure to leave the box on the chair for you while saying they’ll be back tomorrow when they get the chance and maybe this time they could bring elder kettle!, you only giggled at their cuteness while waving good bye to the two young boys and focusing your attention to the very grump demon at the Conor of the time room who was mumbling to himself, you can probably take a guess at who it was and what was wrong, yup the devil was a bit jealous and annoyed at how they too up almost all of your attention the whole day! It was the worst sim his eyes honestly and he’s the damn devil so you know it pretty bad

Before bed he’d probably bring his chair closer to your hospital bed and lay his head down on your lap while making you Brush your fingers through his kinda of matted hair. Even if you were the one on the hospital bed he still felt like it was the worst day ever and just desperately needed your comfort in this situation

Even if visiting hours are over he’d make sure to scare the nurses and doctors into letting him stay the night, after all who would try and fight him? So the nurses just let him sense they did find it a reason to fight for either way. He’d make sure your comfortable and already asleep before nodding off and falling asleep himself

The next morning was a bit hectic at word got around about you in the small town and many people came over to say their condolences and try to offer various gifts and treats, the hospital waiting room was filled with people waiting to see you as you’ve made good friends with each one. The first to show was the cup brothers who came with elder kettle, he brought you a delicious breakfast for you to enjoy as he knew the hospital food wasn’t so enjoyable, he also brought some warm coffee to start of your day as the two cups played in the Conor of the room while cuphead annoyed the devil. Elder kettle only laughed before sitting down at the end of the bed and offering some stories of his past to entertain you as you ate!

Once done elder kettle bid goodbye to you and smiled when you thanked his kindness he only waved goodbye while leaving to fend for his Garden. The two boys stayed however as they brought out a bored game and asked if you wanted to play which you happily accepted!

The next to visit is Chalice who made a loud appearance while giggling and smiling as she runs over to you “I’ve heard around town that you got yourself in pickle” she said at she laughed at her own joke you could only laugh with her while striking up a conversation with her as she used her usual charm to cheer you up!. She also then walked off to the boys and dragged them out of the room while telling them to help her buy some ice cream and candy, cuphead was quick to join the idea as he would most likely ask for some himself while Mugman was more hesitant, but in the end they ended up running off to gather the sweets which did take awhile because someone not naming names cuphead Got lost and separated from the group so it took awhile to find him 🥲 but they did end up coming back with your favorite flavor of ice cream and your favorite bag of candy!

Once they arrived they quickly placed the bad next to you while excitedly watching you open it, you thanked them multiple times before offering some of the treats to them aswell which they happily accepted, and sat down while flipping on the tv to watch some shows and cartoons to pass the time! Once they were done the devil did scare them into leaving for a bit, which you scolded him about but he only apologized before offering to take you outside to get some dress air as an apology which you accepted while also telling him he still had to apologize to the group which he only grumbled at while helping you into your comfy wheelchair and putting a jacket on you due to the pretty windy weather

Once you guys exited the building many of the people waiting to see you in the waiting room followed also while asking questions and offering you little bags filled with need supplies or some gifts and flowers, you thanked them all as the small crowed slowly dissipated leaving only king dice there standing with almost a bush of flowers “heh- apologizes for the intrusion but boss asked me to get these tor you” he said as he looked over to his boss “ah yes yes took you long enough-“ a small pinch came to his hip and you raised a brow at him “I mean thank you, put it in the room” he said before looking down at you for your approval which you gave. King dice only nodded before walking off into the hospital and letting you continue your small stroll

Once you guys arrived back the devil summoned his henchman to help you while he went to take care of some stuff back in the underworld, he quickly kissed your forehead before eyeing the henchman and giving him a warning glare before disappearing out of sight into the underworld. After a few hours the cup brothers returned while noticing the absence of the heated devil. But they just continued and asked about your day! And how it was as well as telling about the adventures they had while gone

After almost spending the whole early and late afternoon together they had to set off back home before the night set in, so they bid you farewell while happily chatting to each other while walking off. The henchman only laughed before asking if you needed anything before the devil arrived, you only shook you head while thanking him, after a few seconds loud wind was heard as the devil appeared, his henchman was the first to say hello while you followed next “hello” he groaned before dismissing his henchman and making sure he disappeared before sighing dramatically and taking a seat while letting his head drop to your lap, sure he was jealous about how everyone took up almost all your attention but of course he wouldn’t say it out loud but I feel like you would have a good idea of why he was upset

You only smiled while brushing your fingers through his fur while drifting off to sleep, it sucker to be in a hospital but honestly if this much fun happened every day till you get discharged you had a good feeling it would be more bearable <3

[fallen-minotaur]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Rules ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

These can change at a later date (as of 22/11/24)

Will do:

Headcanons

Small drabbles

Gn/Male reader

Fluff

Won't do:

Nsfw

Anything with kids

Angst (I don't wanna be sad) ((unless I do))

Characters I write for:

King Dice - Cuphead

The Devil - Cuphead

Henchman - Cuphead

Beppi the clown - Cuphead

Djimmi the Great - Cuphead

Rumor Honeybottoms - Cuphead

Please bare in mind, most of these characters don't have deeper characterization so they're likely based on my headcanons... as I will do for the few that do we like em spiced here

Also I may be slow with writing, it's not a strong suit of mine but I need to step away from character chats because of the harm AI does to nature, the overall health/patience in people and AI chats addictive nature, if theres a will there's a way to create my headcanons and thoughts and scenarios without using a bot that I need to reload messages for 20 times before it gets it right. ((Also I'm mad at the Ai chats grammar 90% of the time, like english is not my native language but the your/you're pisses me off and now watch me make plenty of my own grammatical errors with my butter fingies))

[luna-void-star]

Not for minors! Gore! Just very,very gorey.

Maybe I'll add another part

I'm just in the mood to get ruined, but not sexually, I guess kinda, but I wanna get like cut up slowly, like I just wanna feel the knife cut me with the small sting while the blood drips out, then a few sudden gashed one or two stabs, just the big slice across my thigh going slightly deep, the blood gushing out as my tears fall to the ground, I cant move, I'm screaming,begging for it to stop yet I just keep getting cut, over and over again till the pain becomes slightly bearable then *gah!* A giant slash across my arm, then another, I scream and writhe, years streaming down my face with snot. The pain is unbearable, it's too much I can't, I can't handle it, as the world starts to fade I feel a slap across my face as I'm brought back to full senses. My blood is everywhere, and they're just enjoying this,the when I look them in the eye, *ah!* I feel a stab in my side, it burns, i-i just can't, then another stab in my leg, but then they just stop, I look up at them and they start pulling my arm, for a moment it felt weird, then it started hurting, the pulling, they were gonna take my arm out of the socket! I scream, they don't stop, no one can hear me in these woods, no one, I don't understand why they're doing this, but then *pop* *crack* I feel my arm pop out of my socket and I shriek minutes later the pain disapates and I lie in my tears and blood before they yank on my other arm, I look up at them with a pleading face, knowing that pleading won't work, but I'm scared, they're yanking, it hurts, they're pulling harder and then suddenly *pop* *crack* out pops another arm and I shriek again, when will this pain end, I just can't it's too much, but then this time they don't let the pain fade, I feel them yanking my leg and i look at them with a pleading expression as the new pain sets in, suddenly they pull much harder and i shriek,cry, scream, everything hurts, but they go to my next leg and start pulling, hard to, one hard yank and you hear and feel a muscle tear, and you scream, louder than ever you can feel blood pooling around the base of your leg as you sob, they tore your leg off! Just why!? This is far, **almost** too far. But you feel a slap to your face and see them walk off as you're stuck with that burning pain.

[sh1-n0bu]

hehehehheheheee pretty birb bf

winged bf who pick you up into their arms, gently cradling you as if you were made of glass and the finest jewelry as they tell you to “hang on” before unfurling their wings and taking off into the sky

winged bf who show you the beauty of flying, holding you securely in his arms as you take in the way how the world below you looks so small and beautiful. who only has a gentle smile on their faces as you point out the big apartments and parks where you go to for a picnic date. who only has eyes on you as you admire the twinkling lights of the world under you

winged bf who wrap their wing around you whenever you shiver, even if it was one of those annoying sudden ghost bump things you get out of the blue. he’s still worried, let him worry for you in peace😠

winged bf who plucks a feather out of their wing, gently tucking the soft feather into your hair, or on your jacket — wherever you want. he wants you to carry a piece of him to remind you by even though you regularly steal his clothes

winged bf who allows you to be only person to touch his wings, to care for them, to brush them, to just… well, touch them to your heart’s content really. he doesn’t care if you put the tip of his long feather ends over your lips, mimicking a mustache, he doesn’t care if you want to use it as a blanket, he doesn’t care if you wanna use the ends like a cat toy in front of his face. he’ll indulge in your silly shenanigans

winged bf who sheds at least once a year, filling your shared home with the old feathers. who is either smug about it or is apologetic as he helps you broom the excessive fallen feathers. at this point you could probably make a plushie or some sort of art project from the amount of feathers that he shed. to which he objects, saying these are all old and weakened feathers, offering his wing for you to pluck feathers from if you really wanna make an art project

winged bf who hides the two of you under his wing when cuddling in bed, the added layer of his own extra limb making the scene feel more intimate than it is. as if the entire world is blocked out, just a meager existence passing by as you two enjoy this moment of comfort as his wing becomes a curtain to give you two privacy

winged bf who sometimes gets too sexually frustrated and pent up with your curious hands constantly touching the place where his wing is connected to his back, the skin and muscles there are sensitive, making him jump in his seat whenever you do it to tease him

winged bf who knows that it isn’t your fault. you probably don’t know, you don’t have a wing after all, so you don’t know what it means when someone touches your wing. who only calms your worries with a forehead kiss, usually handling his problems himself

winged bf who lets out a whine into his hand, muffling the embarrassing noise as your hand wraps tighter around his cock. he was way too sensitive than usual and it was all because of your wandering hand on his wings. he probably should have explained it all to you but right now, he found his words escaping him, mind melting into a muddled mess as he finds his hands clawing at your own in desperation

winged bf who mumbles out a weak protest of being “s-sensitive! aaah… f-feels too sen—♡︎ sensitive! y-your haaandd♡︎” as his legs start to shake, staring through teary eyes as you coax out yet another climax out of him. his tip an angry cherry red from the continued torture of your hand, his slit weeping precum over and over again despite having just came, getting hard in your hand embarrassingly fast

winged bf who gets tortured by your loving hands for who knows how many times. his eyes are getting blurry and breathing started to hurt. even more, his dick was stinging, twitching every time your tight fist comes up to the tip, letting go briefly as if to taunt him, touching the dripping slit with the tip of your finger and making him whine loudly before fucking his cock into your hand again and again. this was just pure torture, he wanted to escape and run away but you were whispering such nice words to his ears. calling him your good boy, your angel, how you loved being with your beloved like this… could he really ever refuse you?

winged bf who gets more and more twitchy in your gentle hold as your hand picks up speed, the filthy wet noise of his earlier cum being used as a lube filling the room alongside his loud moans. who begs for you to not to touch his wing as it flutters around, dropping a feather or two onto the floor due to moving around so much. who only lets out a pathetic whimper of a “cuz’ ahh haamgh—! [n-name], please! please don’t—♡︎ d-don’t touch them...? they’re sensitive too aanh haagh mfgh♥︎!!” when you ask him why

winged bf who felt like his skin was on fire. everything felt too much but felt too little at the same time, his cock painfully hard again in your hold the moment you ran the tip of your finger over the bane of it. his muscles were getting tense, a strange sense of feeling coiling around in his stomach as you kiss the place where his wing and back connects, shifting around frantically with a chirp or a preen falling from his swollen lips

winged bf who weakly paws at your hand around his dick, wanting to push it away but chasing right after it with his hips as the strange feeling in his stomach just continues to grow worse. it didn’t felt like his usual orgasm, the way he would just fall apart in your hands. it felt more intense and that scared him. who cries out through loud whines and bitten back sobs that “f-feels weird!! aanhh haah [n-name]—! it mnggh♡︎ feels weird! my c-cock feels unnck haah ahh amhh weird♥︎♥︎!!”

winged bf who throws his head back into your shoulder, hands covering his beet red face as a scream tears through his lips, muscles tightening, body going taut in your arms when you gently bit into the base of his wing, your other hand keeping his wing in place so it wouldn’t flutter and knock you away as he fucking squirts into his stomach, painting his muscles and your hand white. who lets out soft chirps and noises, legs twitching and hands struggle to decide whether to hold onto you or to muffle his embarrassing noises

winged bf who only lets out weak noises and chirps when you try to communicate with him, asking him if he was doing alright and if your angel was with you right now after that overstimulating experience. who immediately hides within his wings the moment a sliver of sobriety hits him, too humiliated to even look you in the face because what was that? and why did he felt… so good?

winged bf who gives you a weak glare that you know isn’t exactly serious, pouting at you and complaining about how you messed up his mind and stuff. who lean into your touch as you push his hair away from him, getting to see the still reddened face and the few tear stains on his cheeks. who grumbles about how you have too much power over him when you chuckle, leaning in to plant a kiss to his pouting lips. who chase after you with a demand for a proper kiss this time

⇨ sephiroth, genesis, angeal, hawks, xiao, venti, angel devil, vash, knives, sunday, simeon, raphael + anyone you can think of!

[fallenxangel-13]

fallen angel worshipping your body for the first time. eyes widening in adoration, as though seeking salvation in your flesh alone. his fingertips ghost over your soft skin, lips murmuring praises against your bare neck- warm and desperate-before he takes you raw.

"you're so divine," he groans in your ear, his large wings shudder, feathers rustling as he thrusts deeper into you-eager for more. his faintest whispers send shivers down your spine. "forgive me, love.. heaven was wrong. you were made for me. only me. understand?"

[ozzgin]

I just watched The First Omen at the cinema and you may go ahead and cuff me for blasphemy, but…

Devil x Reader

You have been chosen by the Cult as the one to carry their ungodly plan after many failed attempts. This time it was a success, yet not for the reasons they might expect. The Devil has his eyes on you.

Content: female reader, mentions of pregnancy, religious themes, blasphemy, violence, horror, a non-consent scene!, based on The First Omen (2024); image from the promotional poster

Why you, of all people? You're not particularly devoted to religion, nor do you stand out in terms of virtuousness. Or lack of, for that matter. Alas, their reasons remain unknown.

What's certain is that you woke up one day and found yourself strapped to a foreign bed, staring into a ceiling you didn't recognize. You weren't alone. Around your helpless form stood men and women, dressed in black and wearing a solemn smile. Your forehead received a gentle, encouraging stroke from the hand of the priest. The scent of chrism invaded your nostrils.

You begged them to release you. The older man spoke softly in your ear. "You are serving a greater purpose. It is all in the name of God." God? Purpose? You rolled your eyes back and gazed upon the large painting hanging behind you. Virgin Mary and her blissful smile and stretched out hands felt like a mockery.

The holy image vanished as a black cloth was nonchalantly draped over your face. You felt the rope tighten around your neck and begun gasping for the scarce air barely making it through the thick canvas. A crescendo of muffled chants, and the room went abruptly quiet. Had everyone left?

Then you heard it. That profane growl, causing the entirety of your body to shiver in repugnance and terror. You trashed, and pulled, and screamed, to no avail. A clawed hand rested on your bare stomach, then a second one traced the rest of your body. You laid limp, vision blurred as the room swayed in tandem with the sacrilegious act.

You'd been defiled by a Beast. The next time you opened your eyes, you were back in your bed. Your hopes of it being a mere nightmare were shattered the moment you lifted your gown and noticed the deep scratches, the monstrous prints left on your skin, and the hollow sensation in the pit of your stomach. Your body had been tampered with, and something was growing out of your misfortune. A vile blight, throbbing with life within the comfort of your flesh.

You spent the months haunted by voices and visions. The grotesque, horned Creature would frequently reappear in your mind, exhausting all other thoughts. Such a heavy, imposing presence. It wouldn't let you forget, not even for a second: you belonged to Him, and He would soon return to retrieve you. The mother of His child, the object of His adoration. Was such a thing even conceivable?

You prayed to be left alone, yet the Cult naturally longed for its promised gift, bound to come back eventually. And so, once more, you were facing the people who caused your despair. "We've come for the child", the priest explained, glancing at your obvious, bulging belly. The clawed hand framing it was still a fresh wound that never healed, almost as an ominous warning: this body was owned by a jealous God.

Your trembling hands revealed a pocketknife. This time, you were prepared. The group took a moment to observe your daring gesture, then proceeded to approach you with calculated steps, with newfound resolve. Would you be able to keep them away? Their intentions were clear: you were in possession of the Antichrist, and they needed to secure this immense power.

The ground shook, and everyone froze. You glanced at the altar painting, the same one that witnessed your corruption. Virgin Mary remained with an unfaltering smile. From behind the ornate frame, large, horrid hands creeped out. A travesty of everything Holy. The priest gasped and quickly threw his hands in prayer. This was not part of the plan. This was not meant to happen.

"Pater noster, qui es in caelis-" he began, but his voice was cut short. His face turned pale, and he clutched his chest with a terrible grimace. The nun next to him let out a scream before she was pushed away by an invisible force. Her body hit the wall with a loud, wet sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing. You stared at the massacre unfolding before you, devoid of any fear. Somehow, in the depths of your soul, you knew you'd be safe.

An enormous shadow emerged from behind the painting, twisting, bending, stalking towards you. Your nose scrunched at the stench of blood. You were the last one standing among corpses. To your surprise, you exhaled deeply, shoulders drooping in comfort. A silent voice murmured in your ear, telling you not to fear. That Father was finally home for you.

Foolish, ridiculous humans. He'd been willing to entertain their petty plans of grandeur, until he met you: your tender, frail body, your innocent soul. How exalting it was to have his way with you. You were meant to be the one. To carry His offspring into the damned world. But not for some trifling reason of a Cult desperate to crawl their way back into control. Their greatest mistake - which led to their demise - was to assume the Devil himself can be controlled, ordered around. He has allowed you the greatest honor of joining him, out of your free will, to sow the seeds of chaos as his beloved mortal.

Thus, he couldn't have possibly allowed anyone to interfere. What you saw that day, in that old, musty underground cavern, was an omen: a bloodbath awaits the one who dares to approach his human.

You look up into the demonic orbs: trenches of madness, obsession, vulgarity, burning holes into you, slurping your very existence with hunger and lust. You are his.

[shotmrmiller]

being at a haunted house with your friends only to get separated and end up alone in a random room. it looks empty, except for the usual props and you're just taking a moment to catch your breath, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans only to spot something in the corner shift, realizing that you're not alone.

a guy as broad as the door behind him is in there with you, costume seemingly lower budget than the others (was he called in at the last minute? his mask makes him look more a criminal than whatever the hell he's supposed to be.)

he's a clean two or three heads above yours, his dark clothing making him hard to see, blending in with the jagged shadows created by the red (because red means scary, right?) flickering lights overhead, and he's standing right in front of the quick exit, neon green sign barely grazing the crown of his head. shit.

a sudden, ear-splitting noise activates your fight or flight response and you're out the way you came in a second flat, uncaring that you're running against the flow of traffic, harshly bumping shoulders into both visitors and actors alike, and instinct takes over- without a second thought, you glance back over your shoulder.

the guy you'd bolted from is moving with unsettling purpose your way. the crowd parts around him, letting him gain on you effortlessly, his hulking stature looming larger with every step.

his eyes lock onto yours and your breath snags in your throat- he's a hunter, staring you down through the scope of a rifle, as if you're nothing other than fresh game for him to take home and devour.

you push on even though it feels like you're swimming upstream, his gaze burning into your back like a brand, the icy fear slithering through your veins alive, coiling around your galloping heart, tightening with every ragged breath.

until you hit a dead end. cornered, every instinct screaming for an escape that doesn't exist. and then he's on you, presence overwhelming, reaching a paw-sized hand toward you-

"i thought you guys aren't allowed to touch us?" you choke out, his fingers curling around your wrist and you wonder if he can feel your racing pulse.

his breath warms the side of your throat. "says who, pet? you're free t'stop me." if you can.

(soap and kyle watch him come out with you in hand, looking like you're about to be sick. kyle gives you a water bottle and soap pats your back, telling you that if yer that scared, he'll go with ye next time.)

[zephyrchama]

It is said that at times when a choice has to be made, everyone has an angel and a devil on their shoulder. These beings will try to influence a person's morals for right or for wrong.

You thought it was an exaggeration or something that only happened in cartoons. Yet here you stand, in the middle of a market trying out new foods, with Lucifer over one shoulder and Simeon over the other. They're arguing about which treats you should buy. As calm, rational adults, they aren't raising their voices or coming to blows. They're not making a scene at all. But there's a certain fire in their eyes and a stubbornness not to back down, keeping the two of them competitively breathing down your neck until you've made a choice.

"This one is similar to what I made you last week." Simeon points to a high-quality product on the top shelf.

"It's expensive. For that price, you can get two of these." Lucifer points to another product on a lower shelf. "I know you'll like them."

"That's too much. We can't have you getting sick from overeating. How about this? It's fluffy and light." Simeon tries to put a snack in your hand.

Lucifer knocks the angel's arm aside and puts his own recommendation in your hand. "This is made with rare ingredients from across the Devildom. You won't get a chance to try it again."

Two iron grips take hold of your shoulders as Simeon and Lucifer smile at each other. Two irked and vaguely threatening smiles, void of actual positive emotion. You consider just buying a keychain instead.

[nhlclover]

ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR QUINN HUGHES

pairings: quinn hughes x fem!reader, (little bit of) jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: trevor invites you to a lakehouse for the summer, attempting to set him up with his friend. however, the summer doesn't go to plan when you meet his older brother who captures your eye and flips everything upside down.

warnings: very obviously angst, sort of a love triangle, jack and quinn kind of hating each other, slow burn, reader and trevor having a sibling type relationship, one singular kiss, brief appearances from trevor & luke

word count: 11.6k

notes: wooooo mama this is the absolute longest thing i've ever written. i really hope you guys enjoy it, i'm pretty happy with this.

The scene of the lake house standing tall in front of you was something straight out of your imagination. It was picturesque, the way the large house was nestled amongst the pine trees and the glimmering water sparkling behind it. It was just the way that Trevor had described it when he invited (or rather insisted) you to come to his buddy’s lake house this summer.

“You’ll love it! It’s so nice up there,” Trevor had urged, his enthusiasm infectious. You could still hear his voice, brimming with excitement. “It’s my friend Jack’s place. You guys would get along great! And his brothers are super chill too.”

At the time, you’d felt a mix of curiosity and skepticism. It’d been about three years you’d been friends with Trevor, long enough to know that when his tone got this excited and he was this insistent, he was up to something.

“Are you trying to set me up with him?” you’d asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously at Trevor as the two of you sat in a coffee shop a few months ago. He had been uncharacteristically fidgety, bouncing his knee up and down while stirring his iced coffee with an unnecessary amount of focus.

Trevor had grinned at you in that annoyingly charming way he did when he was caught. “Nooo, I’m just saying you guys would vibe. He’s a cool guy. Super chill.”

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms across your chest. “Uh-huh. And his brothers?”

“Also cool!” Trevor leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “But listen, Jack’s the one I think you’d really like. Just come for like, a week or two, see what happens. No pressure. I promise you’ll have fun.”

You’d hesitated, not entirely convinced. But Trevor knew exactly how to play on your curiosity, and a month later, you found yourself packing a bag for a summer getaway at some lake house owned by Trevor’s friend, Jack. Despite your reservations, a part of you was intrigued. What if Trevor was right?

The drive to the lake house had been a blur, punctuated by Trevor’s nonstop chatter and your own uncertain silence. You weren’t opposed to meeting Jack. Trevor had sung his praises for months, claiming you two had more in common than either of you realized. As far as setups went, this wasn’t terrible — you could trust Trevor to have good judgment. But still, you were unsure and slightly uneasy about the whole situation.

When you arrive, Jack is already waiting outside, leaning against the porch rail, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. He’s smiling — an easy, laid-back smile that makes you smile back automatically. The sun filters through the trees, casting warm, gold light on the porch, and for a moment, everything feels serene.

Trevor wasn’t lying when he commented about Jack’s appearance. “Some people call him a pretty boy but… I mean he is pretty, but he’s a good-looking dude, y’know?” He was definitely attractive, something anyone could admit you thought, but he wasn’t totally your type.

Trevor bounds up the steps of the porch, dapping up Jack and pulling him in for a hug. You followed, stopping at the bottom of the steps, watching as Trevor whispered something into Jack's ear, Jack’s eyes catching yours as a small smile appeared on his lips.

Jack steps forward, extending a hand. “Hey, you must be y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says, his voice warm with that relaxed confidence you’d expect from someone who’s used to being the center of attention.

You shake his hand, feeling the easy smile on your face widen a little. “All good things, I hope.”

Trevor laughs, throwing an arm around Jack’s shoulder. “Mostly good things.” He winks at you, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

Jack offers to give you a quick tour of the place, and you agree, letting him guide you inside while Trevor stays back, grumbling to himself about having to bring in your bags. The inside of the house is as beautiful as the outside, with high ceilings, wooden beams, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the lake. Despite being a new build, it has a cozy, rustic feel to it. Jack pointed out each room as you went, keeping up a steady flow of conversation that put you at ease. He was friendly and thoughtful, making sure you felt welcomed, and it struck you as genuine. You could see why Trevor thought you’d get along with him.

“And this is the back deck,” Jack said as he pushed open a sliding door, revealing a sprawling view of the lake, with a dock stretching out in front of the property. The lake is glittering and relatively calm, aside from a figure disturbing the water. You squint, watching as the swimmer glides smoothly through the lake.

“Who’s that?” you ask Jack, eyes not leaving the figure as you watch him pull himself up onto the wooden dock, pushing dark wet hair from his face.

“That’s Quinn,” Jack says, following your gaze and glancing out toward the dock. “My older brother.”

The sun seems to linger on Quinn’s form, highlighting the toned muscles in his arms as he stretches briefly, rolling his shoulders to ease out any lingering tension from his swim. Droplets of water cling to his skin, catching the sunlight and tracing down his chest in slow, winding trails emphasizing the smooth contours of his muscles as they glisten.

“Q!” Jack shouts, whistling to get his brother’s attention. Quinn’s gaze snaps to the two of you, your pulse quickening as his eyes land on you. “Come up here!”

Quinn grabs his towel from the dock, throwing it over his shoulder as he makes his way up the lawn towards you. As he climbs the steps to the deck, you feel his eyes travel over you, not in a way that feels intimidating, but with a curiosity that mirrors your own. There’s something magnetic about him, something calm and steady that draws you in as he steps up onto the deck, his mouth curving into a small, barely-there smile.

“This is Trevor’s friend, y/n. She’s joining us for the summer” Jack introduces.

As Quinn’s gaze flickers back to you, you notice there’s something about the way he looks at you — subtle, assessing. His gaze has a certain depth, a look you can’t quite decipher. It lingers just a second longer than what feels typical, enough to make your heartbeat skip, to leave you questioning the flicker of interest in his expression.

“Nice to meet you,” Quinn says, his voice low and smooth, a perfect complement to the quiet confidence he exudes. He reaches out to shake your hand, and as your fingers meet, you notice how warm his touch feels, even with the cool water droplets still lingering on his skin.

Up close, he’s even more striking. There’s a sort of ruggedness to him, outlined by the sharpness of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze. His eyes, a greenish shade of blue, hold yours with a calm intensity that makes it hard to look away.

“Nice to meet you too,” you manage, your voice coming out softer than you intended, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You mentally kick yourself, hoping he doesn’t notice, but the glimmer in his eyes suggests otherwise.

Jack, oblivious to the undercurrent, clapped his hands, breaking the moment. “Alright, well, there’s more to see, and if we don’t get back, Trevor’s going to start whining about being abandoned,” he joked.

You chuckle, your eyes pulling away from Quinns’ for the first time since he joined you on the porch. But as you turned to follow Jack back inside, you couldn’t help but glance back at Quinn. He was still watching you, his expression softened just slightly, and you felt a quiet thrill at the way he watched you.

The first week at the lakehouse passes in a flurry of days that blur together in laughter and lakeside relaxation. You fall into an easy routine of swimming, grilling, and long talks on the deck. Jack and Trevor keep things lively, always organizing something, whether it’s an impromptu game of cornhole, a daring cliff dive, or a spontaneous trip into town.

With Jack, the connection forms fast. He’s lighthearted, quick with a joke, and endlessly charming. He keeps you laughing and keeps the vibe lighthearted. His energy is infectious, and he keeps you roped into every activity, whether it’s cliff-jumping or getting you to help him with dinner when it’s his turn. You can tell that Trevor’s plan to get the two of you set up is working for Jack, as he lingers closer, laughs harder at your jokes, and you begin to feel his gaze linger on you just a little too long.

But it’s Quinn who holds your attention in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Quinn is different from Jack in nearly every way. Where Jack is open and quick to draw you into his orbit, Quinn lingers on the edges, observing and listening. When he speaks, it’s with a low, steady voice that commands attention without trying. And unlike Jack’s energy, which feels like the buzz of the sun overhead, Quinn’s is deep and mysterious like the lake.

You find yourself gravitating toward him at every opportunity, captivated by the way he moves through the days with an unruffled calm. The nights at the lake house slip into an easy rhythm, with Quinn and you inevitably being the last ones awake as the both of you are night owls. Most nights, you find yourselves lingering on the porch, wrapped in the gentle hum of crickets and the low whisper of the lake. With the others upstairs, fast asleep, you and Quinn fall into intimate conversations, shared only between the two of you.

One night, you find yourselves tucked away on the porch, the air a little cooler than the other nights. You are curled up on a rocking chair, bundled up in a hoodie you’d borrowed from Jack. Quinn sat across from you, the beer he’d started during dinner going warm in his hand.

Quinn studies you, his eyes catching the faint glow of the porch light as he swirls his bottle absentmindedly. “So,” he begins, breaking the comfortable silence, “What’s California like?” He leans forward, genuinely interested, his voice carrying a warmth that makes you want to spill everything about life on the West Coast.

A soft smile creeps onto your face. “It’s… different from here,” you admit, glancing out at the lake where the moon dances on the still water. “It’s a bit fast-paced. And warm. Lots of sun, lots of people. But sometimes, it feels like everyone’s moving so quickly that you get lost in the crowd.”

Quinn nods, his eyes steady on you. “I get it. I feel the same way about Vancouver sometimes. Coming back here… it just reminds me that there's more than the noise and rush. There’s… balance out here.” He gestures out toward the lake, his voice contemplative. “Like all of this has a way of pulling you back to what matters.”

His words resonate deeply, and you find yourself nodding. “Exactly,” you murmur. “It’s like there’s space to breathe. And you notice things that usually get lost in all the… chaos.”

Quinn’s gaze lingers on you a moment longer, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you came. It’s been… good to have you here,” he says quietly, his eyes soft. “We don’t have other people up here often.”

Your heart pounds a little faster at the sincerity in his voice, and for a second, the rest of the world disappears. There’s only Quinn and the quiet lake, and the feeling that he understands you in a way you hadn't expected anyone to. You hold his gaze, feeling the electricity between you grow, filling the silence with something you can’t quite name.

But then, as if drawn back to reality, Quinn’s eyes shift, his expression subtly changing. “And Jack,” he says, almost as an afterthought. “He… really likes you, you know? He doesn’t say it, but I can tell.”

It feels like a splash of cold water. You break eye contact, pulling your hoodie closer around you, the warmth you felt moments ago dissipating. The weight of Jack’s interest hangs heavily between you and Quinn now, an undeniable reminder of the complicated line you’re toeing.

“Right, yeah…” you reply softly, looking down, your voice tinged with a mix of guilt and frustration. You hadn’t meant for this to get complicated, yet here you are, caught between two brothers who couldn’t be more different.

An uncomfortable silence settles over you both, thick and heavy. Quinn’s eyes linger on you, as if he’s about to say something more, but he holds back. His lips press into a thin line, and you wonder if he’s feeling the same conflict, the same confusion that’s twisting knots inside you.

You force yourself to look away, swallowing hard. “I think… I should probably head to bed,” you murmur, avoiding his gaze. You stand up, offering him a small, tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Goodnight, Quinn.”

Quinn nods, his expression unreadable as he watches you ebb towards the door. “Goodnight, y/n,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, though there’s a flicker of something in his gaze — disappointment, perhaps, or longing. You slip inside, leaving him on the porch, the weight of his gaze heavy on your back as you close the door.

In bed, you toss and turn, Quinn’s words and the feel of his gaze lingering with you. Your mind is a whirlwind, caught between the easy, carefree friendship that’s growing with Jack and the simmering tension you feel with Quinn. Jack is perfectly nice and, like Trevor told you, the two of you were getting along swimmingly.

But no matter how much you try, your thoughts always drift back to Quinn. There’s something undeniably different about him, something that makes it impossible to feel the same way about Jack, no matter how hard you try. Jack’s presence is light and friendly but with Quinn… it’s like there’s a hidden gravity pulling you toward him, a quiet understanding that lingers beneath the surface of every conversation. Every night on that porch, he’s become your anchor, drawing you into a world that feels more honest, more intimate.

You lie there, staring up at the ceiling, your mind replaying the way he looked at you tonight — that almost undetectable spark that you’re sure you didn’t imagine. The way he listens to you, like every word matters, as he sees past the small talk and into the parts of you you rarely share. There’s no pretending with Quinn. And even though he’d mentioned Jack, it only made you realize how much more you’re drawn to Quinn. Jack might be developing feelings for you, but it’s Quinn who fills your thoughts, who leaves you breathless in a way you can’t ignore.

You pull the covers tighter around you, willing sleep to take you, but every thought seems to lead back to Quinn, to the way he made you feel seen, understood — even in silence.

The next morning, you do your best to shake off the lingering tension from the night before, determined to keep things light and normal. Under Jack’s enthusiastic suggestion, the group decides to spend the day out on the lake, hoping the sun and water will wash away any unease. It’s a sunny day, warm with a light breeze, and the water sparkles invitingly under the sunlight, making you think that everything might just go smoothly.

The boat is anchored in a calm spot on the lake and, despite the wonderful weather, there doesn’t seem to be another boat around. Trevor and Luke sit up in the bow, arguing about which mascot would win in a fight between Mr. Clean and Tony the Tiger.

Jack is quick to pull you into the action, handing you a beer from the cooler as he grins. “Alright,” he says, his smile as wide as the lake. “Are you ready for the full lake house experience? Because to really do that, you’ve got to jump off the boat at least once today.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you crack open the can. “I’m pretty sure you’re just making up rules to mess with me.”

He shrugs, a playful glint in his eye. “Maybe, but you have to do it anyway,” he shrugs.

Trevor chimes in, chuckling from his spot. “Jack’s right, y/n. First-time lake visitors have to jump. It’s tradition!”

You chuckle, your gaze drifting up to Jack as he stands in front of you. The sun shines directly behind him, casting him in a golden halo, the bright rays spilling around his frame in a way that makes him look almost ethereal. For a moment, you can see why anyone would fall for that charm. But even with this picture-perfect moment, you feel a pang of regret that you can’t feel more for him, because, somehow, your thoughts are pulled elsewhere and on someone else.

Jack’s laughter brings you back to the moment, and he leans a little closer. “Come on, we can make it a team effort. I mean, if you’re too nervous, I can just hold your hand.” His voice is playful, but there’s a hint of sincerity in his words, a hope that you’ll let him bridge the gap he’s trying so hard to close.

Your smile is genuine, but before you can respond, you hear Quinn's low chuckle from behind you. It’s soft, barely audible over the hum of the boat’s motor, but enough to pull your focus completely away from Jack. You glance back at Quinn who’s sat on the back bench, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, a flicker of something in his gaze as it bears down on the two of you.

Your attention is pulled back to Jack as he reaches for your hand in a gesture that feels both playful and pointed. “Come on, y/n, it’ll be an official initiation. We’ll jump together, yeah?”

Your gaze flickers between Jack’s outstretched hand and Quinn, who’s watching with an inscrutable expression, his eyes narrowed slightly as he leans back, crossing his arms. You can’t deny there’s an awkward tension here, a silent push-and-pull between the two brothers that seems to amplify whenever Quinn is nearby.

Swallowing the strange, charged feeling building between you all, you look back at Jack and nod, forcing a lighthearted smile as you stand up, pulling off the oversized t-shirt you wore as a coverup. You see Jack’s eyes scan your figure, hearing him gasp quietly. You blush, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, taking his hand. He grins in triumph, his fingers warm against yours as he helps you stand at the edge of the boat. He holds on a little tighter than necessary, and the flicker of anticipation in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Ready?” Jack asks, his voice softer now, his gaze lingering a bit too long as he watches your expression. There’s a hopeful vulnerability in his face, a look that makes you hesitate for a moment. You don’t want to hurt him, but there’s a part of you that wishes he’d pull back, that he’d realize you’re not as invested in this connection as he is.

You manage a nod, hoping he doesn’t notice the small sigh you let slip. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He beams, counting down with a quiet “three… two… one!” before the two of you leap into the lake together, the cool water rushing up to meet you. When you surface, you’re greeted by Jack’s laughter as he splashes you, pulling you into a playful water fight. You laugh along, though your eyes instinctively drift toward the boat, where Quinn looks over the edge, watching you both with an unreadable expression.

Jack’s laughter fades slightly as he notices your attention elsewhere, his face falling for a fraction of a second. But he quickly masks it, pulling you back with a light splash. “Hey, stay with me here,” he says, his tone half-joking, half-pleading. And you want to, you really do, but Quinn’s gaze is magnetic, and you can’t help but feel pulled toward him, as if there’s an invisible thread between the two of you.

Eventually, Jack climbs back onto the boat, reaching out to help you up. But the moment you step back on board, the charged silence returns, thick and stifling, as Quinn hands you a towel, his fingers brushing against yours just long enough to send a spark up your arm. You catch his gaze for a brief second, and you’re struck by the quiet intensity in his eyes, a longing that mirrors your own.

Jack clears his throat, his shoulders tensing slightly as he glances between you and Quinn. He lets out a forced laugh, trying to dispel the tension. “Alright, what’s next? We could always do another round of jumps, or maybe a swim to the dock?” He says it with an almost desperate cheerfulness, trying to regain your attention, trying to keep the moment light.

Trevor and Luke, sensing the tension, start bantering about who would be the fastest swimmer, their playful arguments distracting you all for a moment, lightening the mood just enough.

────୨ৎ────

The night air was crisp as laughter and the crackling of the fire filled the space around the lake house. The lake is quiet behind you, a dark, glassy surface reflecting only starlight. You were settled in a lawn chair, leaning back, watching as Trevor dramatically recounted a story about when you nearly crashed his car.

You could feel his eyes on you, searching for a shared smile, hoping to catch your gaze even as he chuckled at Trevor’s theatrics. Every so often, he'd lean in, commenting with a low murmur meant only for you. He’d even offered you his hoodie earlier, though the night wasn’t nearly cold enough to need it. It was endearing, if not a bit overeager. Yet, despite the obvious attention from him, your focus kept drifting across the fire.

Quinn sat across the flames from you, leaning back in an Adirondack chair. His attention was barely on the story, barely laughing with the others as you had been. Every now and then you’d catch his eyes flicker your way, lingering on you just long enough to send a thrill through your chest. Your stomach tightened with a quiet anticipation each time, though as quickly as the moment arrived, it vanished. Quinn’s gaze would shift, his attention lost somewhere in the darkness beyond the flames, leaving you wondering if you’d only imagined it.

As Trevor finally wrapped up his tale with an exaggerated flourish, the group’s laughter rang out again, filling the quiet night. You shifted in your chair, stealing a glance across the fire to see Quinn looking your way again, his expression unreadable in the dancing light. The firelight cast soft shadows over his face, illuminating his quiet intensity—a contrast to Jack’s open interest. And just as quickly as his eyes met yours, he looked away, his focus deliberately elsewhere, leaving you feeling a subtle ache of frustration.

Jack nudged your arm gently, his voice breaking the spell. “Hey, want to grab a drink or something? I think I saw some ciders in the cooler on the porch.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you replied, a small smile curving your lips as you pushed yourself up to join him.

You could feel the weight of Quinn’s gaze on you, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. As you walked toward the porch with Jack, a pang of prickling guilt settled over you, leaving a heavy shadow with every step. Jack was wonderful — funny, kind-hearted, and clearly eager to spend time with you. And yet, there was an emptiness in each smile you returned to him, a hollowness you couldn’t ignore. You tried to shake it off, reminding yourself to appreciate his warmth and interest. But you couldn’t deny it. There was no spark, no unspoken gravity that pulled you toward him.

The two of you reached the porch, Jack handing you a cold can from the cooler, his fingers brushing yours briefly. He shot you a quick grin, the kind that seemed to hold a hundred different things he wanted to say. But the look in his eyes—the hopefulness, the eagerness—only tightened the knot in your chest.

Jack took a sip of his drink, leaning casually against the porch railing, his gaze still on you. “It’s nice here at night, isn’t it?” His tone was light, but there was an unmistakable softness to his voice, as though he wanted nothing more than to keep this moment between just the two of you.

“Yeah, it really is,” you agreed, looking out at the lake rather than meeting his eyes. “It’s peaceful.”

Jack’s voice was quieter when he spoke this time like he was mulling something over. “You know, it’s been great having you up here. I mean…I’m glad Z brought you here.” he said softly, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a vulnerability there, one that made you want to reassure him, to ease the sting of your own uncertainty.

You wanted to tell him you felt the same, that you were excited, that his attention filled you with butterflies. But it didn’t. Not the way Quinn’s lingering gaze did, not in the way his silence could reach across the fire and wrap around you more tightly than any words Jack could offer.

And Jack could sense it. You could see it in the way his gaze fell just a bit, in the way he seemed to retreat into himself, trying to figure out where he’d lost you. A soft, sinking guilt bubbled up, but before you could say anything, he cleared his throat and looked at you, trying to keep the mood light.

“Should we head back?” he asked, giving you a small smile that tried to mask the disappointment behind his eyes.

You nodded, and as you followed him back toward the fire, your eyes drifted back to Quinn. Why did he have to make it so complicated? Jack was there, warm and steady, giving you his full attention, yet your heart kept tugging you toward Quinn — Quinn, who never gave you more than half-glances and unspoken hints. It was as though he knew the effect he had on you but chose to keep you guessing, leaving you in this restless, uncertain state. And every time he looked away, your chest would ache with a longing that you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried.

You felt like you were making it up in your head. You felt like all of this was just concocted by your brain, a made-up situation. But then you’d think back to the nights when it was just the two of you, sitting across from one another on the porch, finding bits of commonality, causing you to talk for hours.

It was during those quiet nights, with only the soft hum of the lake and the occasional call of night birds, that the two of you would sit just a little closer, voices lowered as if sharing secrets with the stars. He’d be calm, reserved, but there’d always be a hint of a smile when you teased him about his stoic nature, a glint in his eyes when he’d challenge you back. It was in these moments that your doubts faded, that all the confusion seemed worth it.

But then the sun would rise again, and Quinn’s indifference would come back like the morning mist, blanketing any closeness you thought you’d found. The spark that seemed so real under the cover of night would dim, replaced by his guarded demeanor and quiet aloofness. It was maddening, this cycle of near-closeness followed by a cool retreat. He’d show you just enough to make you wonder, to keep you holding onto the memory of his quiet smile and that soft look in his eyes.

As you and Jack rejoined the group, you settled back into your chair, glancing across the fire toward Quinn once more. He was looking down, a hand idly fiddling with the edge of his sweater. There was something vulnerable about him in that moment, something that made you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he felt the same hesitation and uncertainty. You wanted to bridge that gap, to ask him if he ever felt the same tug, the same strange pull that made every shared glance linger in your mind.

But before you could even entertain the idea, Jack’s hand brushed your shoulder, pulling your attention back to him. He was smiling, his gaze as steady and warm as ever, making you wish you could return it with the same openness.

“Hey, you okay?” Jack asked, concern lacing his voice. You hadn’t realized the way you were chewing on your lip, or the way your brow was furrowed ever so slightly.

You nodded, giving him a soft smile that you hoped looked genuine. “Yeah, just…lost in thought, I guess.”

But as you said it, your gaze slipped across the fire once more, finding Quinn’s eyes fixed on you with that familiar, unreadable intensity. And for a fleeting second, you thought you saw a softness there, a hint of something deeper. It vanished just as quickly, but that one look was enough. It was enough to make you cast away the doubt that lingered in your mind, to dismiss the thought that this was all in your head.

The night dragged on, punctuated by laughter and more ridiculous storytelling from Trevor. Gradually, one by one, everyone began to call it a night. Luke was the first to slip away, yawning as he muttered something about wanting to have an early workout, clapping Trevor on the shoulder before heading inside. Trevor followed soon after, stretching with exaggerated laziness before flashing a grin and winking at you. “Don’t get into too much trouble out here,” he teased, earning a playful eye-roll from you.

Finally, it was just you, Jack, and Quinn. Jack was lingering, his eyes occasionally drifting to you with a look that hinted at something he wanted to say but couldn’t quite bring himself to voice. He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat as he looked at you, then glanced over at Quinn.

"Alright, I guess I’ll head in, too," Jack finally said, his tone reluctant. His gaze lingered on you for just a beat too long, as though he wanted you to ask him to stay or tell him that you would head up with him. But you didn’t, and after a quiet sigh, he nodded, gave Quinn a brief glance, then turned and headed inside, the screen door shutting softly behind him.

And then it was just the two of you.

The quiet stretched between you and Quinn, thick and tense, as the night air settled into a stillness that seemed to wrap around you both. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the trees, and it was painfully quiet, each unspoken word between you two heavy with meaning. You could feel his presence, magnetic and steady, even across the fire. Finally, after a moment that felt like an eternity, you drew a deep breath and decided to speak.

“Quinn, can we talk?” Your voice was steady, but just barely. Quinn’s eyes finally locked with yours for the first time since before everyone began to filter to bed. Quinn nodded after a couple of seconds, giving you the silence to continue.

“I don’t know what’s going on between us,” you said softly. “But… fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy. I need to know if it’s all just in my head or if you feel it too. Because if there’s a reason I feel this way… I need to know.”

You trailed off, heart hammering against your ribcage as the words hung in the air between you. For a moment, he didn’t respond, his expression unreadable, his face softened by the glow of the firelight. Then, with a sigh, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared into the flames. His silence was torture, each passing second pulling you deeper into a pit of anxiety and frustration.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, as if he’d rehearsed this response in his mind countless times. “It’s not in your head,” he admitted, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. “There’s something here, between us. I feel it too.”

The words sent a rush of relief and hope through you, a spark that reignited all those moments spent wondering and waiting for some kind of sign. A soft smile spread across your face, the edges of your doubt finally beginning to soften. But then, his expression shifted, the corners of his mouth tightening as he looked away, eyes fixed on the shadows just beyond the firelight.

“But…” His voice was barely a whisper, rough around the edges. “It can’t go anywhere. Not with Jack. He’s…he’s into you.” He looked back at you, the regret in his eyes evident, a pain mirrored in your own chest. “I can’t do that to him.”

His words were like a punch to the gut, and the warmth of the fire suddenly felt distant, fading into a cold, empty ache spreading through your chest. You hadn’t expected it to hurt this much, hadn’t realized how much you’d been hoping he’d say the opposite, that he’d fight for whatever was happening between you.

You dropped your gaze, feeling foolish, vulnerable, exposed. “So that’s it? We just… pretend this doesn’t exist?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Like nothing’s been happening all this time?”

Quinn’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his expression pained. “I don’t want to pretend. But I can’t… I won’t hurt him, not like that. He’s my brother.” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly. “And he really cares about you.”

You swallowed hard. It felt ridiculous—being here, feeling so foolishly hopeful, only to be left with a hollow ache and a fractured connection that couldn’t ever be more. Part of you wanted to yell at him for leading you on, for those late-night conversations and stolen glances, for every unspoken word that now felt like a cruel joke.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I wish it could be different.”

The words left you hollow. Part of you wanted to fight, to tell him that what you felt couldn’t just be ignored, but another part — the part that knew him and understood his loyalty — couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to choose you over his brother. Not when you saw the conflict in his eyes, the pain that mirrored your own.

“Fine,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. You stood up, the cool night air prickling your skin as you walked away from the fire, leaving him there in silence. You didn’t look back. It felt like your chest was filled with broken glass, each breath painful, as you made your way back to the house.

Inside, the stillness was almost suffocating. The others had already gone to bed, and the darkened living room felt cold and empty, mirroring the ache in your heart. You climbed the stairs to your room, shutting the door softly behind you as you sank onto the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall. A mix of anger and sadness filled you. You were mad at Quinn, for drawing you in only to push you away; mad at Jack, for being in the way even if he hadn’t meant to be; mad at Trevor, for ever convincing you to come here; and, perhaps most of all, mad at yourself, for letting your heart hope for something that could never be.

The next morning, a heavy quiet blanketed the lake house. You moved through the motions of breakfast with the others, but your thoughts felt distant, lost somewhere between the memories of last night and the weight of Quinn’s words. The morning was made slightly easier by the absence of Quinn who you were told went into the town early that morning to run errands and hit the gym. The guys bantered and talked about heading out on the boat, planning an afternoon on the lake, but you could only muster half-hearted nods and polite smiles. It was hard to focus, every small sound—the clinking of mugs, the soft scrape of a chair—only intensifying the ache you couldn’t shake.

Excusing yourself, you slipped away before anyone could ask questions, making your way down to the dock. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rippling across the lake's surface, and you sat at the edge, feet dangling above the water. You were still in your sleep outfit, not exactly pyjamas, but rather a comfy oversized hoodie and a pair of mens boxers. The familiar scent of pine and fresh earth surrounded you, but even the peaceful view couldn’t ease the storm of emotions inside.

The quiet was soon broken by the sound of footsteps approaching, and you didn’t need to look to know it was Jack. You felt him sit beside you, his presence warm and grounding. For a moment, he didn’t say anything — just let the silence settle between you both, as though he was waiting for you to be ready.

Finally, he cleared his throat, glancing sideways at you. “You okay this morning? You’ve been… quiet,” he said softly, his voice tentative, as if he were stepping carefully around broken glass. “Distant.”

You swallowed, bracing yourself as you met his gaze. His eyes were filled with genuine concern, a softness that only made this harder. “Yeah,” you murmured, looking back out at the lake. “Guess I just needed some space.”

Jack nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced. His fingers drummed nervously on the edge of the dock, and after a beat, he spoke again, his tone thoughtful, almost nostalgic.

“You know,” he began, eyes cast down at the water, “when Trevor told me he was bringing a friend this summer, he was so sure we’d hit it off. He kept going on about how you and I would be perfect for each other, that we’d get along great.” A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I remember feeling this weird, excited energy like… maybe he was right, you know? Maybe I was going to meet someone special.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat as he continued, his voice carrying a warmth that was both comforting and deeply bittersweet.

“And when you got here…” He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours, as if to gauge your reaction. “I don’t know, it just… felt easy, from the start. Like we’d known each other forever. I started to feel like maybe Trevor had been onto something.” He gave a soft laugh, but there was no humor in it, just the weight of unspoken feelings.

“Things felt really good between us, and I thought you felt it too,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “So I started to get my hopes up—thinking maybe this was the start of something real.”

You winced, guilt gnawing at you. “Jack… I’m so sorry,” you said, your voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to lead you on, truly. I think you’re amazing. From the bottom of my heart, I just… I mean there’s gotta be some sort of spell this fucking house puts me under because I would be insane otherwise to not like you! You… you’re so perfect that any other girl would be scremaing at me, trying to claw my eyes out for not appreciating you. But… I just can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Jack’s eyes softened, a mix of sadness and resignation settling in them. He looked down, his fingers still drumming but more slowly now, as if grounding himself. After a moment, he took a deep breath and let it out, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“I get it,” he murmured, though his voice had an unmistakable crack in it. “I mean… I think I get it. You can’t force something that isn’t there, right?” He gave a sad smile, one that tried to mask the hurt but didn’t quite succeed.

He stared out at the water, his expression distant, like he was trying to piece together what had gone wrong, or maybe just what he’d missed. A tense silence settled between you, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on the air around you. Jack cleared his throat, seeming to steel himself, his gaze searching your face as if looking for an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked.

“Can I… can I just ask you one thing?” he said, voice barely above a whisper. His vulnerability in that moment was palpable, and you could feel your heart pounding, bracing yourself for what was coming.

You nodded, feeling your throat tighten.

“Do you… have feelings for Quinn?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and painful, and a part of you wished he hadn’t asked. But the look in his eyes told you he needed to know, that the uncertainty was gnawing at him just as much as the truth might.

Slowly, you nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek as you whispered, “Yes.”

A heavy silence fell between you, and Jack seemed to shrink a little, his shoulders slumping as he took it in. Jack’s gaze fixed on the lake, and for a long moment, he said nothing. You could see the effort it took for him to keep his expression neutral, to keep his emotions tightly bound. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

“So, you… you and Quinn. Is there… anything actually happening between you two?” He glanced at you, a flicker of something raw in his eyes — hope, maybe, or just the need to understand.

You shook your head, offering a small, bittersweet smile. “No, Jack. We’re… we’re not together. We won’t be.”

He looked at you, brow furrowed. “Why not?” he asked softly, his confusion obvious. “If you feel that way about him, why wouldn’t you try?”

You took a shaky breath, the words catching in your throat. “Because Quinn… Quinn’s too good of a brother. He’d never go for me because of you… and because of what he knows you feel.”

Jack blinked, his brow furrowing as he took in your words. “Wait—what does that mean? Because of me?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion. His gaze softened, and you could see he was fighting to keep his tone steady, like he was trying not to hope.

You sighed, feeling a bittersweet ache settle in your chest. “Quinn told me he could never be with me because he knows how you feel. He doesn’t want to hurt you, Jack.”

Jack’s jaw clenched, a flicker of frustration flashing across his face. “So… let me get this straight,” he muttered, almost incredulously. “He’s not doing anything about how he feels—because of me?”

You nodded, and Jack fell silent, staring down at his hands, which had stopped drumming and were now clenched tightly in his lap. He seemed deep in thought, his brows furrowed as he processed what you’d just told him. The lake was quiet around you, the stillness broken only by the occasional ripple of water.

For a long time, Jack didn't say anything, just stared down at the water, his brows drawn together. You could almost feel the weight of his thoughts, the way he was wrestling with everything that had just been laid out. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, raw.

“So he… he cares enough to stay away,” Jack said slowly, the words laced with a sadness that felt almost like admiration. “That's… just like him.” He took a deep breath, forcing a small, sad smile. “I wish things were different. I wish we could just rewind, go back to the start of summer and… and pretend this never happened.”

You swallowed hard, his words striking a chord deep within you. “Me too,” you whispered, eyes burning with unshed tears. “I never wanted any of this to happen, Jack. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.”

Jack looked over at you, his expression softening, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the easy, unburdened friendship you’d had in the beginning. “I know,” he murmured. “You’re not the kind of person who’d do this on purpose. It’s just… life, I guess. It’s complicated, ‘n messy as hell. And… maybe Trevor was right. We do get along. Just… maybe not in the way he thought we would.”

He smiled, a genuine one this time, though tinged with a sadness he couldn’t hide. “Maybe someday… I won’t feel this way,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible above the soft lapping of the lake against the dock. “But for now… I think I just need a little space. Time, maybe.”

You nodded, understanding that this was what he needed, even if it hurt to hear. “I get it, Jack. I do.”

Jack gave a nod, his gaze returning to the water, the weight of unspoken words settling over the two of you. In the next moment, he reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze—a quiet truce, an understanding. Then he stood, brushing off his shorts and glancing back at the house.

“I’ll be up at the house for a bit,” he murmured, the distance in his tone unmistakable. With that, he turned and walked back up the dock, his footsteps slow and heavy.

In the following days, there was a noticeable shift in the air; everyone felt it, though no one dared to name it. Conversations were stilted, laughter felt forced, and even the once-lively dinners had become quiet affairs, each of you treading carefully as if one wrong word might shatter the fragile peace that held you all together. Jack avoided you and Quinn as much as he could, lingering at the edge of group activities, his usual easygoing energy replaced by something more closed off, guarded.

Quinn, for his part, kept his distance too, his usual calm presence clouded by an unspoken tension. It was as if he knew that the delicate line he was walking might snap at any moment, sending everything spiraling out of control.

You couldn't ignore the heaviness that had settled over the house, a tangible sense of tension that made everything feel off-kilter. As much as you'd wanted this summer to be an escape, it had become the very opposite — a painful reminder of all the ways things could go wrong.

That evening, after everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself wide awake, thoughts racing. The decision took shape slowly, a reluctant resolve that you couldn’t shake. You needed to leave. Staying here, caught between the fractured pieces of what had been and what could never be, was too much to bear. The thought of facing both brothers day after day, watching Jack’s guarded smiles and Quinn’s restrained distance—it was too much. They deserved space, and, you realized, so did you.

With a deep breath, you grabbed your phone and booked a flight out for two days later, the earliest you could manage. You barely slept, running through potential conversations in your mind, eventually deciding you were only going to tell Trevor and slip out quietly, not wanting to cause anymore issues.

You forced yourself to push through the pain and awkwardness during the two remaining days until you would be returning back to California. As the days inched closer to your departure, the weight of unspoken words grew heavier, settling into every corner of the lake house. You caught glimpses of Jack, his face turning away when he thought no one was watching as if even looking at you and Quinn felt like reopening an unhealed wound. Quinn’s glances were no less fraught, though his were filled with a wistful restraint, as if he was already mourning the loss of something that had barely even begun.

The dinners, once filled with laughter, now passed in subdued tones, each person more focused on their plate than the conversation. You found yourself counting down the days and hours, conflicted between the need to escape the tension and the ache of leaving it all behind. In those last two days, you kept reminding yourself that soon, you’d be on a plane back to California, back to your own life — away from Jack’s pained looks and Quinn’s longing stares.

Your final day there, you packed your belongs up quickly, hoping Trevor would buy your excuse of not wanting to miss your flight as a good reason for him to take you to the airport early, and not because you couldn’t bear to spend one more hour in this suffocating oasis. Everyone else was lounging by the water, with the exception of Jack who lingered in the kitchen, opting to do the dishes rather than be around the others. He was lost in thought when he heard the patio door slide open and shut, the sound of bare feet padding against the hardwood. He turned to the entrance of the kitchen, seeing Quinn wearing his boardshorts and a slightly guarded look.

Quinn stopped at the threshold, eyes flicking briefly to Jack’s hands as he scrubbed the dishes. They were tense, knuckles white around the plate he held, and the silence between them was palpable and heavy. Jack set down the dish with a clatter, bracing himself on the edge of the sink, not looking at Quinn. Jack didn’t give Quinn time to speak. The words erupted from him, fueled by everything he’d been holding back.

“Do you even understand what you’re doing?” Jack’s voice was low and seething, barely contained. He didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t dare let Quinn get a word in. “You’re hurting her, Quinn. A perfectly nice girl, who came here not looking for this mess but got dragged into it anyway. And the worst part is, you know it. You know it, and you’re still just… sitting back like a damn martyr, thinking that by staying distant, you’re somehow making it easier for everyone. That by holding back, you’re sparing her, sparing me.”

Jack’s words cut through the quiet, sharper than the silence that had settled in the house over the past days. The vulnerability in his tone was raw, scraping against Quinn’s stoic expression. Quinn shifted uncomfortably but didn’t interrupt; he only looked at Jack, his gaze unwavering.

“And you know what? I kind of hate you for it,” Jack continued, voice unsteady. He turned his head just enough for Quinn to catch the anger, the hurt in his eyes. “I hate that you waltzed in and just took her from me without even trying. And, yeah, maybe that’s selfish. Maybe I never really had a chance, but she was still there, and I was trying. I was there, damn it!”

Quinn finally took a step forward, but Jack cut him off again, his hands clenching at the counter. “And I hate you for pretending like you’re doing the right thing by telling her nothing will happen. You act like you’re some noble saint by ‘staying away,’ but it’s a lie, Quinn. It’s a lie, and we both know it. You’re holding back because you’re scared — scared to go after what you really want, and in the end, you’re just making it worse for everyone. For her. For me.”

Jack’s voice wavered, then cracked, as he finally fell silent, chest heaving from the force of his confession. The words had cost him, as if each syllable had drawn blood. The only sound in the room was the dripping of the faucet, each drop amplifying the tension between them.

Quinn stayed quiet for a long moment, his gaze steady as he absorbed every word. He studied Jack, weighing something unspoken. “Would you hate me if I went for her, then?” His tone was gentle, almost hesitant, a softness that Jack hadn’t been prepared for.

Jack’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I probably would.” He ran a hand through his hair, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I mean I hate you right now for making her feel the way she does. But it shouldn’t matter, Quinn. Not if you two… if you actually care about each other.” Jack’s voice faltered, breaking under the weight of his own honesty. “Look, I’ll get over it. In time. But don’t waste what could be something good just because you’re trying to spare everyone. It’s pointless, and it’s selfish. You need to get to her before it’s too late.”

Quinn could feel Jack’s anger and pain, an emotion so raw and tangled it clawed at the air between them. For a second, Quinn thought of how different things could have been if he had stayed on the sidelines, if he hadn’t let himself get close to you. But as Jack’s gaze softened, an odd understanding settled between them. Jack wasn’t letting go easily, but he was letting go.

Jack’s shoulders slumped, exhausted, as he ran a hand over his face. “She’s leaving today, you know?” he said to Quinn, a look of surprise appearing on his face. “Trev told me last night she booked her flight out for this afternoon.”

Quinn’s face fell, and the guarded look faded, replaced with something dangerously close to panic. He hadn’t known—hadn’t expected that this was it. That today was the end.

“She’s leaving?” Quinn asked, Jack nodding. “Why didn’t she say anything? W-why is she leaving?”

“Because why would she stay?” Jack said. “She’s going to protect herself. She’s not gonna stay here, hoping for something that won’t happen. She’s too smart for that.”

The realization struck Quinn like a punch to the gut, leaving him breathless. Jack's words echoed in his mind, each one sharper than the last. She’s leaving. Of course, she would. She wasn’t the type to hang around hoping for some half-hearted promise or for Quinn to finally decide what he wanted. She deserved so much more than waiting for him to get his act together.

Jack's voice softened, pulling him back to the present. "Quinn, it’s not too late. She hasn’t left yet. If you really care about her, don’t let her go like this."

Quinn’s gaze faltered, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his expression. Could he really undo the damage he’d done by staying away? Could he find the words to convince her that, despite his silence, he’d felt everything just as deeply as she had?

A heavy silence followed before Quinn found his voice. “What… what should I say to her?”

Jack shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You really think I’m giving you advice on how to get the girl I wanted?”

Quinn’s face softened in a rare, grateful smile. “Fair enough.” He hesitated, then turned, steeling himself as he left the kitchen, leaving Jack to his own fractured thoughts.

Quinn climbed the stairs two at a time, his pulse racing with every step, anticipation and fear warring within him. As he reached the top, he saw Trevor just exiting your room. Trevor paused, giving Quinn a look that held no small amount of concern.

“I don’t know what went down between you three,” Trevor said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “But I care about her, and I don’t like seeing her like this. You going to fix whatever mess this is?”

Quinn’s chest tightened. He knew Trevor had been close to you, learning this summer just how much of a big brother figure he was to you. He couldn’t fault him for looking out for you.

“I’m going to fix it,” Quinn said, his voice quiet but firm. He met Trevor’s gaze, hoping to communicate the sincerity in his words. “I have to.”

Trevor didn’t say anything else, but he gave Quinn a long, steady look, as though weighing whether to believe him. Then he gave a nod and shifted your duffle bag, stepping aside to let Quinn pass. With a final glance at Trevor, Quinn walked to your door, his heart racing. Quinn stood outside your door for a moment, his hand hovering above the doorknob. He knew what he needed to say, but a part of him feared that the damage was already done. Bracing himself, he knocked gently before pushing the door open.

You were standing by the window, your zipped duffle bag sitting on your bed. Your back was to the door when Quinn entered, and for a moment, he almost turned around, the words caught in his throat. But then you turned, your eyes meeting his.

“Are you really going?” Quinn asked, his voice quiet and strained.

You nodded, stepping away from the window and closer to Quinn. “I think it’s best. This whole summer has just… it’s too much, Quinn. I didn’t come here expecting any of this, and now I just feel… caught. And I can’t keep feeling this way.”

Quinn swallowed, his gaze never leaving yours. He looked as though he was battling something heavy, words lingering on his lips, waiting to escape. He stepped forward, close enough that you could see the faint circles under his eyes, the fatigue that seemed to pull at his features.

“I didn’t expect any of this either,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “And I get it — you’re right. I hurt you. I know that. I thought… I thought if I kept my distance, it would somehow make it easier for everyone. That maybe you'd move on from this — move on from me, and be with Jack. I thought it would hurt less.”

You held his gaze, your voice low but unwavering. “Do you have any idea what that did to me, Quinn? All summer, feeling this… this connection between us, and thinking that I had to be imagining it because you couldn’t even look at me. And you’re saying you did that on purpose? To protect me?” Your voice trembled. “That’s not protecting me. That’s running away.”

Quinn took a shaky breath, stepping closer, his expression taut with regret. “I know I messed up. I was spineless and I should have told you the truth sooner.” Quinn said, bowing his head briefly before forcing himself to look up at your hurt eyes. “I told myself that it was better this way, but all I was doing was lying to myself. Because every time I saw you… every time I heard your laugh, or watched you talk to Jack, or caught you looking at me — I couldn’t breathe.”

Quinn took one last step forward, less than a foot away from you. He raised his hand to reach you, fingertips grazing your arm gently, as if he feared you might pull away. “But I care about you, more than I thought possible. And I was afraid of that. Afraid of hurting Jack, afraid of hurting you… and afraid of wanting you this much.” He swallowed, his voice growing rough. “But I can’t let you leave without knowing how I feel. I want to be with you I — I need to be with you.”

Your breath hitched, the confession settling over you like a warm, crushing weight. This was what you’d wanted, but it also brought a whirlwind of conflicting emotions crashing down. You took a small step back, just enough to put some distance between you, needing space to gather your thoughts.

Quinn was saying everything you wanted to hear from the beginning. Laying his feelings bare, and exposing his heart in a way you hadn't expected from someone as reserved as him. It was like seeing a hidden part of him, one he’d kept carefully guarded. The vulnerability in his eyes made it clear that this was as terrifying for him as it was thrilling for you.

But in the back of your mind, Jack lingered, his hurt and disappointment woven into every stolen glance and quiet moment of the summer. The image of his face as he realized how you felt about Quinn was something you couldn’t shake. The memory clawed at you, guilt mixing with the longing Quinn’s words evoked.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that,” you said, voice catching. “But Quinn… Jack — he tried so hard with me this summer, and I couldn’t give him what he wanted because of… well, because of you.” You hesitated, torn between the longing in Quinn’s eyes and the memory of Jack’s earnest, hopeful glances. “The last thing I wanted was to hurt him. And I feel like I’ve done enough damage by just… being here.”

Quinn’s gaze softened, his hand lingering just above your arm, hovering close as if he wasn’t ready to let you go. “I know,” he murmured. “I know it’s complicated. But I talked to Jack this morning. He told me… he told me to come up here and talk to you. To tell you how I felt. He wants you to be happy, and he knows that’s not with him. He’ll get over it.”

“Jack said that?” you whispered, barely able to believe it.

Quinn nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips, though there was sadness in his eyes. “He might hate me for a while, and I can live with that. But he said I’d regret it if I let you go. And… he was right.”

His hand, warm and steady, traced down your arm, his fingers slipping around yours with a gentle firmness. The touch, gentle but insistent, sent a jolt through you. “I know I’ve messed up,” he murmured, voice barely a whisper. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll make it right. I want this, us… if you do too.”

You nodded, words escaping you as Quinn stepped even closer, his free hand lifting to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, and you could feel the slight tremor in his touch. He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, but you didn’t.

His lips barely brushed yours, soft and tentative. Your breath mingled together briefly before your lips locked together. He lingered for a heartbeat, savoring the closeness as if he, too, couldn’t believe this was real. Then, with a surge of emotion, the kiss deepened, all the restraint and hesitation of the summer dissolving as his hand rose to cradle your cheek, holding you to him as though afraid you might disappear.

His stubble that had grown out over the last couple weeks of summer scraped along your jaw and chin, leaving a faint burn that only added to the rush of sensation.

When you pulled back, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that since the day you got here,” he murmured, a hint of relief in his voice.

You giggled, staying close and feeling his heartbeat echoing against yours. The silence that followed was thick, but it was different now — no longer tense or uncertain like it had been for most of the summer. It felt as though the weight had been lifted from both of your shoulders.

But even in that moment, you knew the reality of what this would mean—for Jack, for Quinn, and for yourself. There was a part of you that still ached, remembering Jack’s quiet disappointment and knowing it would take time to heal the wounds this summer had left behind.

You swallowed hard, raising a hand to Quinns face and brushing aside his dark locks that fell over his eyes. “I still think I need to go,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not because I don’t want this. I do. But I think both of you need time, and maybe I do too. To let everything settle.”

Quinn nodded, understanding settling over his expression. “I get it,” he replied, taking your hand in his and giving your palm a soft kiss. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. Take all the time you need.”

Quinn let you slip from his arms, his heart squeezing as he watched you grab your bag and exit the room. As you descended the stairs with your duffle bag slung over your shoulder, you saw Jack waiting near the door. His expression softened as you approached, a bittersweet smile crossing his face.

“So, this is it?” he asked, his voice gentle but with an undercurrent of acceptance.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think it’s best. Thank you, Jack. For understanding. And… for everything.”

Jack gave a short nod, his gaze momentarily flickering towards the stairs where Quinn had stopped to watch from a distance. He returned his gaze to you and managed a small, sincere smile. “Go live your life. I wish you and Quinn all the best.”

You hugged him, both of you holding on just a second longer than necessary. When you pulled back, you could see the mix of emotions in his eyes, but there was a sense of peace there too. He’d let go, not because it didn’t hurt, but because he genuinely wanted you to be happy. You felt your heart swell, gratitude mixing with the faint sting of regret for the friendship that would never quite be the same. But Jack’s words lifted the weight off your shoulders, letting you and Quinn move forward.

With a final look, you stepped outside, Trevor waiting to drive you to the airport, his brow furrowed in confusion at the way you suddenly had pep in your step, a small smile present on your lips that had been missing for weeks. As the car pulled away, you stole one last glance at the lake house, catching a glimpse of Quinn watching you from the porch. He raised a hand in a small wave, and you returned it, a soft smile on your lips.

This summer hadn’t turned out anything like you’d expected.

[theemporium]

[5.1k] with the hughes bowl around the corner, luke is finding it hard to push away his doubtful thoughts. fortunately, he has a friend who’s willing to keep his mind preoccupied with far more sinful thoughts. unfortunately, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with said friend. (smut)

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Luke Hughes felt lost. 

Not physically, fortunately. He was very much aware of where he was—on his bed in the apartment he shared with his older brother, just to prove his point—but it brought him little to no comfort to be in the place he called home for the majority of the year. 

To be completely honest, Luke didn’t even know what he considered home anymore. Whether it was the house he grew up in in Toronto. Or the one in Michigan. Or the crappy shared house he moved into with the boys in college. Or even the lakehouse he has spent the last few summers in.

They felt familiar and homely at points in his life, but now he wasn’t sure. 

There was a voice in the back of his head that told him New Jersey was his home now, that he had accepted as much the day his name was called in the draft. He knew he would be following in Jack’s footsteps, he would be moving to a new state and he would be integrating himself into the city. That he was now a part of the hockey team that the locals held near and dear to their heart, that they saw him as one of them now. 

And for a little while, he got it. 

He found a sense of comfort in their shared apartment, in living with his brother again after years of only sharing summers together. He found comfort in the days after games where he would come back home and collapse on his bed, or after roadies where he could finally return to normalcy. 

He was fine with it.

Hockey was all about adapting and persevering to new environments. He could handle the hotel rooms and stiff pillows because he knew he would eventually come back to the place he called home. 

But something felt off this time around. 

They had landed pretty late in New Jersey coming off their ten day roadie and Luke had expected to find a sense of solace in the fact he would be able to fall face first into his own bed with no alarms or annoying brothers prepared to wake him up at some ungodly hour the next day. 

Instead, Luke just felt…lost. 

It was the only way he could describe the tenseness in his body for the last two weeks. He felt on edge, constantly alert. He felt like his body was moving through his daily routine but his head was far, far away. He felt like he was trying to catch up with everything, like he was seeing everything happen through his own two eyes but couldn’t quite seem to process what was happening. 

His body was on autopilot and he was clawing on the inside for some control. 

It wasn’t a completely foreign feeling to him. He had felt similarly through the later years in high school and college, when the classes started getting a little harder and he was fighting to stay afloat to the point his brain just shut down and his body kept moving.

He had never really felt that way about hockey before but it was just another one of those things that professional hockey threw at him whilst he desperately tried to cling on to what he knew. 

There was a voice in the back of his head that told him he should be responsible and logical and tell someone. He should say something to Jack, to see if his brother had any advice. Or maybe even Quinn. Or even Nico, since the captain had reassured him time and time again that Luke was one of his boys too. 

He should tell someone because he knew what he was feeling wasn’t normal and wasn’t good in the long run. But unfortunately that logical voice was completely overshadowed by the one telling him that he couldn’t go running to others whenever he had a problem, that he had to learn to cope and adapt, that he couldn’t face saying to the people around him that he was struggling when they were all so excited he finally made it to the big leagues. 

His parents. His friends. The hundreds of fans that had been counting down the days until all three Hughes brothers would make it to the NHL. 

He couldn’t let them think he wasn’t made for the tough life of professional hockey, but he felt like he was going to go out of his mind if he didn’t tell someone. If he didn’t have someone who would get it, who wouldn’t judge him for the doubts plaguing his mind. 

It was close to two in the morning when Luke reached for his phone, opening up his contacts and pressing your name far quicker than should have been possible. But it felt like muscle memory as he clicked your contact, his thumbs typing a message and hitting send before he could think twice. 

hockey boy: hey u up?

Luke wasn’t really expecting you to reply, if he was being honest. Maybe a follow up message in the morning but he assumed you would be fast asleep by now, as any normal person would be. He let out a huff as his head dropped back against his pillow, his eyes blankly staring at the ceiling above as he contemplated what he could do to fall asleep quicker. However, he was pleasantly surprised when his phone buzzed on his chest. 

cherry🍒: oooh i think i know how this one goes 

cherry🍒: i hope you’re wearing something sexy ;) 

Luke breathed out a laugh, shaking his head fondly as he quickly typed a response.

hockey boy: no no

hockey boy: just wanted to talk 

hockey boy: couldn’t get to sleep

Your reply came much faster this time.

cherry🍒: everything okay?? 

hockey boy: yeah don’t worry about it 

cherry🍒: bullshit

cherry🍒: get dressed, see in fifteen minutes 

hockey boy: ????? 

However, your reply never came. Instead, Luke was left staring at his phone screen for a few minutes with his brows furrowed in utter confusion before his brain seemed to snap on. He scrambled to push the duvet off of him and quickly shuffle towards his wardrobe, picking clothes that he is pretty sure were clean before shoving his keys and phone into his pocket. 

He glanced down, seeing another message from you telling him to come outside and his chest tightened a little. It felt something close to the adrenaline he got before he stepped on the ice, that rush that he was really doing this—except this time he was sneaking out like some rebellious teenager who was trying not to wake his brother up. 

God knows what wild assumptions Jack would come up with as to why his little brother was sneaking out at two in the morning.

You were already smiling at him when he spotted your car, waving him over as the cold winter night chill made him regret not grabbing another layer beyond the hoodie he slipped on. He quickly rushed over, letting out a sigh of relief when he was instantly hit with warmth as he slipped into the passenger seat before he turned to look at you.

“Hi,” he whispered, because it just felt right to do so.

“Hi,” you grinned back at him before nodding at him. “Put your seatbelt on.” 

He raised his brows, but he did as he was told. “You gonna tell me where we are going?” 

Your grin widened. “Nope.” 

Luke tilted his head. “Are you taking me somewhere to kill me or something?” 

“Yeah because killing a six foot something hockey player who could probably throw me into the Hudson River with ease is exactly what I planned to do with my Wednesday night,” you snorted, shaking your head as you began to pull out of your parking spot.

“You could push me in when I’m not looking,” Luke countered.

Your lips twitched. “I’ll keep that in mind but that’s not the plan for tonight.” 

“Remind me never to go to the river with you.”

…

“You know, I’m pretty sure this is the exact opposite of what the trainers recommended.” 

“I don’t see you complaining.” 

“Oh, I’m not. Just pointing out a fact.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you lightly shoved the boy settled in the backseat next to you whilst he beamed in response. You were parked in some random, empty parking lot. You weren’t exactly sure where but it was far away enough from the rest of the world for you to deem it the perfect spot. 

After annoying you for five minutes, Luke had fallen silent when you pulled into a McDonald’s drive thru and proceeded to order far more than was necessary for two people. But Luke only grinned, making some comment about dragging you into the river with him if his trainers found out that you just snorted at. 

And now, the two of you were huddled into the backseat of your car, eating away whilst his phone played some country album he was insistent to get you to like in the front of the car in one of the cupholders that was meant for your drinks. 

“So,” Luke started, leaning over to steal a fry from your stash before you could slap his hand away. “Why are we here? Decided to give me a pity meal before you killed me?” 

“Maybe,” you grinned, leaning over to steal a handful of his fries before he had the chance to stop you. “You just seemed like you needed to get out of your head a bit. This is what I do.” 

He raised his brows. “A midnight McDonald’s run?” 

“Sometimes it’s McDonald’s, sometimes it’s cookies,” you shrugged in response. “The snack changes. But the drive away from everything is what helps. God knows how many times I’ve done it when I was drowning in assignments or at work.”

He swallowed. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” your smile softened a little. “What’s up, bud? What’s got you like this?” 

“I…” Luke paused, trying to string his thoughts together but it was hard when they were swirling around in his head. “I don’t know. I just feel like I have spent the last few weeks like a robot, doing what I was supposed to be doing. But not…doing it. If that makes sense.” 

You nodded, your face remaining serious even if Luke was pretty sure he would have laughed at how bizarre it sounded if the roles were reversed. “You’re playing some intense games. Maybe your brain just needed a break.” 

“But I don’t want a break,” he said with a huff, frustrated at himself more than anything. “This is what I’ve been training for all my life. I should be able to fucking handle it.” 

“You can and you are,” you said to him. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t get some extra help along the way.” 

“Like what?” Luke snorted. “The other boys on the team—”

“Probably understand exactly what you’re going through,” you interrupted, nudging your knee against his. “You’d be surprised what you don’t know about a person, Luke.” 

He hummed, not saying much more as he stared at you with an inquisitive look. 

“You’re still playing really well,” you assured him, shifting your gaze away from him and back towards your food. “At least, most of the commenters are saying that. A few of them are dicks though. I have made a list of the ones I don’t like.” 

Luke laughed, somehow not surprised by that. “Yeah, kinda comes with the territory. I’m not gonna be everyone’s favourite player.” 

“Well, I think they are stupid,” you told him, your nose scrunched up slightly. “You’re my favourite player.” 

“Because you’re not biassed at all,” he teased.

“Hm, you’re right. I should be fairer,” you grinned at him, something quite like mischief shining in your eyes. “You’re playing the Canucks soon, right? I heard there’s this Hughes guy on the team that is really good—”

“Ha, ha,” Luke deadpanned before frowning a little. “I’m surprised you know.” 

“Please, it’s the only thing I’ve heard about for your last few days,” you said, scoffing a little in disbelief. Then again, Luke was rarely watching his games back with the running commentary over them. “The Hughes Bowl has quite a name to it though, I’m excited.” 

“Do you want to watch it?” Luke blurted out. “Like, in person.” 

You paused. “As in watching it in the arena?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, swallowing back his nerves. “I can get you a ticket. I happen to know a guy on the team or something.” 

You snorted. “Really? I’m happy to just watch it from home. I don’t want to put you in a tight position trying to get a ticket or anything.” 

“Nah, I can get you a ticket,” Luke reassured you, waving off your concerns. “Just one condition.” 

You raised your brows. “Oh?” 

“You gotta wear number forty-three,” he said with a grin. “Painted on your cheek or something. Proper puck bunny.” 

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder but his heart stuttered a little at the sound of your laugh.

“Alright, Hughes, I’ll be your puck bunny for the night because I’m a good friend like that.” 

And he chose to ignore the way the taste in his mouth instantly soured at that, instead leaning over to try and steal one of the chicken nuggets from your box instead. 

…

When Luke thought of going pro, he thought of high-speed skating and fast-paced games against some of the best players in the world. 

Never once in his daydreams as a child did he ever consider the media aspect of the job. Nor did he consider the fact it would be so fascinating to people that three brothers would be playing in one game. 

Which, in retrospect, he did understand why. He just really wished he was not one of the brothers. 

The whole week had been countless interviews and conferences of journalists asking the same question in different ways and Luke was losing his mind. 

How does it feel to play with your brothers in the NHL? 

Did you ever think the three of you would be playing in a NHL game together? 

Will your parents support different teams or both?

Are you excited to finally play Quinn on the ice after being on the same team as Jack for a few months now? 

Are your parents proud of all three sons playing together? 

Luke was surprised his mind hadn’t exploded after the third day of the insistent questioning. And he knew both Quinn and Jack were getting the same treatment, getting thrown questions every few minutes about Luke finally joining them in the big leagues. 

But it did little to squash the anxiety that had been bubbling in his chest all week. 

It felt like everyone was expecting a spectacle. It felt like suddenly all eyes were on them, on him. He wasn’t just a normal rookie anymore, suddenly he was the third Hughes brother that was meant to show how great and amazing he was compared to his brothers. Suddenly, it felt way more intense than an average game in the season. 

And yet, everyone else seemed excited whilst he felt like the only one who was drowning once again. 

“This is a cop out! You have to pick one!” 

“She’s trying to save your feelings because she would have obviously chosen a Canucks jersey.” 

“You’re both so immature,” Ellen commented, rolling her eyes fondly at her two eldest sons. “Luke hasn’t complained once.” 

Luke snapped out of his daze when all eyes turned to him. “Uh, yeah, the shirts are cool, Mom.” 

Ellen frowned a little. “Are you okay, honey? Jack, are you taking care of your little brother?” 

“Oh, he’s fine,” Jack waved off his parents, his legs swinging as he sat on the kitchen counter with a Cheshire Cat grin on his face. “Lukey just has performance anxiety because his girlfriend is watching tonight.” 

“Girlfriend?” Ellen repeated before turning to her youngest with a smile. “You didn’t tell us we were meeting your girlfriend tonight.”

“Because you’re not,” Luke quickly bit out, shooting Jack an exasperated look. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend. And her seat is in a different section.” 

“Just a friend,” Quinn snorted. “Sure, bud.” 

“Be nice,” Jim shot his eldest son a look. 

“Actually,” Luke suddenly shot up onto his feet. “I have to give her her ticket so I should get going. I’ll see you guys at the arena.” 

Ellen frowned. “Luke—” 

“Didn’t you say her ticket was waiting at the front office?” Jack questioned with a confused frown.

“Change of plans! I have to take it to her! Bye!” 

Luke didn’t give anyone in his family much chance to further question his behaviour before he was barrelling out the door, bag in one hand and his car keys (because yes, he did finally purchase his own car after Jack kept bitching) in the other. 

His brain was in overdrive as he started the car, his body once again working on muscle memory as he started the route to your apartment. It occurred to him as a passing thought that he should have messaged you to warn you, or check you were even home. But he never did.

Instead, he showed up at your door, knocking exactly three times before he paced his spot until the door swung open. 

And then every single thought left his brain the second he saw you. 

“Luke?” 

He cleared his throat. “I…game…ticket?” 

You laughed, a little nervous. “What?” 

“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” he murmured, shaking his head as he tried to get ahold of himself. “Everyone was talking about the game and I started spiralling and…here I am!” 

“Come in,” you said in a softer voice, your fingers wrapped around his wrist as you pulled him into the apartment, letting the door close behind him.

You guided him through the apartment, pulling him towards the kitchen and letting him settle back against the counter as he watched you grab a glass from the cupboard to fill it up with water for him. Or at least, he was trying to passively watch you and not focus on your attire that was making his head spin for a whole new reason. 

“I, uh,” he paused, clearing his throat. “I like your outfit.” 

“Yeah?” You grinned at him over your shoulder, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the deep red lipstick staining your mouth. “Is it puck bunny enough?” 

His eyes moved from your red lips to the number 43 painted on both cheeks before glancing down at the oversized Devils hoodie you had on. It had his number on the front, and on the sleeve. In fact, he was surprised they even sold those hoodies considering— 

“Is that my hoodie?” He questioned, straightening up a little whilst you just shrugged innocently. 

“I was working on a time crunch for merch to wear,” you answered with a smile. “And it was easier to steal considering you left it here the other day.”

“I would have given you it if you asked,” Luke murmured, thanking you as he took the glass of water from you and took a small sip. “Or I would have given you my jersey.”

Your nose scrunched. “Pretty sure you need that.” 

“I have spare ones,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes when you laughed in response. “You look good.” 

“I’m glad I passed the test,” you teased as you leaned against the counter beside him. “Now, wanna tell me what’s up? I thought you were going to talk to someone about this.” 

“I was. I just…didn’t know when,” Luke admitted shyly before sighing, placing the glass behind him on the counter. “I don’t know, I just feel like my head is spinning with so many thoughts and I don’t know how to shut it off. And that’s, like, the last thing I need before a game. Let alone this game!” 

You nodded in understanding.

“I just feel like there’s so many people I might possibly let down and I just can’t shake it off,” Luke added, his lips turned downwards. “I just want it to stop.” 

“You know,” you started. “I may have a temporary solution.” 

“Yes. Whatever it is. Yes.” 

“Luke,” you shot him a look. “You don’t even know what it is. Remember what we said about consent?” 

“I thought that was about sex stuff, why—” He paused, his lips parting in surprise. “Is your solution a sex thing?” 

You huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, it’s a sex thing. Do you trust me?” 

“Yeah,” Luke replied instantly. “Of course I do.” 

“Okay, good, then just let me take care of you,” you murmured before you leaned in to kiss him. 

Luke felt his shoulders drop a little the second he felt your lips on his, the second he felt your tongue darting out and teasing his own. His hands dropped to your waist to pull you closer, a soft moan leaving his lips as his hands slipped down to palm your ass. 

He was so lost in the sensation of kissing you—something he hadn’t done in a few days, thank you very much—that he barely noticed the way your fingers traced along the waistband of his trousers until the heel of your palm pressed down against his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Luke muttered under his breath, his brain lagging behind as he tried to keep up with your kisses as you began to palm his cock over his clothes. “Cherry, I—” 

“We can stop, if you want,” you reassured him, lightly nudging your nose against his. “Just say the word.” 

“Please don’t stop,” Luke rasped. 

Luke barely had a chance to process the wolfish smile on your face before you slid to your knees in front of him, one hand continuing to stroke him whilst the other moved to unbutton his pants. His mouth went dry at the sight.

“Cherry—” 

“Trust me, yeah?” 

Luke nodded. 

“Good boy,” you smiled before pulling his trousers down to his ankles. 

His hands shifted to grasp the counter behind him, leaning against it for support as he watched you lean forward and press a soft, feather-light kiss over his boxers. And then another. And another. All along the length of his cock before you reached the tip and lightly sucked over the material of his boxers. 

“Oh shit,” Luke swore, his knuckles going white at how hard he was holding onto the counter. 

“Just relax,” you hummed, your words vibrating against him as your fingers hooked on the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down his legs until they joined his pants by his ankles. “Gonna take care of you, help you get out of your head a little.

“Mhm,” Luke nodded, his voice a little more high-pitched than he would have liked. 

His eyes were glued to you, like he couldn’t even look away if he wanted to (not that he did). His eyes were transfixed on the way your hands gripped the base of his cock, the way his tip teased the same red painted lips he had been losing his mind over since you opened the door. 

Luke tucked his bottom lip between his teeth to try save some of his dignity when you shamelessly sucked on the head of his cock, moaning around him like it you were the one being pleasured. 

His chest felt like it was about to be caved in from his heavy pants, his fingers itching to pull the rest of his clothes off as you started moving your head, as you started bobbing and stroking him. 

He let out a choked out noise, something stuck between a moan and a whine as you took him deeper into your mouth. As your red lips wrapped around his cock, painting his skin the same colour as your lipstick. As your cheeks hallowed and the sight of his number painted on your face whilst you stared up at him with wide eyes became his favourite fucking sight in the whole world. 

And then you were moaning too, the feeling of your mouth vibrating around his cock so overwhelming that he could have sworn his knees actually buckled.

You pulled off, your hand still pumping up and down the length of his cock as you grinned up at him, unbothered and uncaring about the mess. Your lips were wet and smudged, a string of saliva just breaking from your lip to the tip of his cock. You leaned back on your knees, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks, glossy eyes and red lips he had bitten raw trying to hold back his moans. 

“God, look at you,” you mused, your thumb sliding over the slit on the tip of his cock. Your smile widened when he let out a shaky, breathless moan. “You look so pretty like this, Luke, wish you could see yourself.” 

“Bet—” He took a deep breath. “—my perspective is so much better.” 

“Yeah?” You hummed, leaning in to lick the beads of precome leaking from his lip. “You like this baby?” 

He nodded. “So much.”

“Good,” you smiled up at him, your eyes remaining on his face as you teased his cock along your lips again. “Be a good boy and come for me then.” 

There wasn’t a single thought in his head other than youyouyouyouyou. He could barely care about the state he was in or the fact he was probably due to head to rink soon because you were on your knees in front of him, bobbing your head up and down on his cock, taking him so deep that your nose was brushing the curls at the base of his cock. 

He could feel his muscles tensing, his hands grasping onto the counter like a lifeline as he shamelessly moaned your name as you kept going and going and going until he was coming down your throat. 

Luke wasn’t even sure at what point he closed his eyes, his head spinning as his orgasm washed over him and almost knocked him off his feet. He let out a shaky breath, slowly blinking his eyes open to look down and find you slowly swiping a dribble of his come that escaped and sucking it back into your mouth.

“Fuck,” Luke groaned, his dick pathetically twitching at the sight. He almost wished he could take a picture of you, just for himself to hoard. “You’re going to kill. Like, actually kill me.”

You laughed, your eyes glittering with an emotion he couldn’t quite understand. “Don’t die on me before I see you play in person, Hughes. You’ll let down your favourite puck bunny.” 

Luke could only roll his eyes fondly. “I’ll score a couple of goals for you to say thank you for the blowjob.” 

“I want a hatrick, Hughes.”

…

Luke did manage to score a goal at the end of the second period. 

And just to make it a little bit sweeter, the Devils did win the Hughes Bowl, much to Quinn’s dismay. 

But the lingering anxiety that had been gnawing at him for the last week was nowhere to be found as he felt his teammates laugh and hug and cheer around him, buzzing as they huddled their way down the tunnel and back towards the locker room. 

Jack was grinning as wide as he was as they peeled off their gear, rushing through their post-game routine and speeches so they could meet their parents and Quinn outside. He was letting himself get sucked into the celebrations, listening to whatever god awful playlist Nate had put on as they continued to mess about in the locker room, high off their win. 

“You should invite your friend to dinner,” was the first thing Ellen said once he and Jack exited the locker room. “To celebrate your win.” 

“And Quinn’s loss,” Jack added with a grin.

“Watch it,” Jim murmured, but it was fond as he wrapped his arm around Quinn. “We are proud of all three of you.”

“And we will kick your asses next time,” Quinn said in that quiet, confident tone only he could do. 

“Yeah, she should be hanging about. Let me text her,” Luke said, still riding off high spirits as he stepped away from his family and pulled his phone out. He couldn’t fight back the smile off his face when he found some messages already waiting from you.

cherry🍒: YOU SCOOOOORED!!! 

cherry🍒: i’m taking that as payment for earlier 

cherry🍒: you guys won because of a lucky blowjob

cherry🍒: wooooo!! you won my first live hockey game!! congrats!! 

hockey boy: hey u still around? 

cherry🍒: no sorry :( 

cherry🍒: i left after the final buzzer 

cherry🍒: why? what’s up?

Luke frowned a little, trying to fight the way his stomach twisted at the fact you left so quickly. He thought the unspoken invite to hang behind with him was obvious but apparently not. 

hockey boy: just wanted to see u after the game

hockey boy: jack keeps talking about u so my parents invited you to dinner 

cherry🍒: aw that’s nice of them, tell them thanks!

cherry🍒: but this night should be for you and your family!!

cherry🍒: not exactly a place for a friend haha 

cherry🍒: but we can celebrate together tomorrow after practice?

hockey boy: yeah sure 

hockey boy: i’ll come over 

cherry🍒: enjoy rubbing in the win to your brother ;)

“Luke?”

Luke cleared his throat, quickly locking his phone and slipping it back into his pocket before he turned back to his parents. He put on a smile, one that felt far too similar to the media smile he gave the cameras, and shrugged his shoulders in response. 

“My friend is busy, other plans or something,” he lied through his teeth. “She said thank you for the offer though.” 

“Aw, maybe next time,” Ellen smiled. 

Luke only nodded in response, following his parents and his brothers out into the players’ car park as he ignored the bitter, ugly feeling bubbling in his stomach at the use of friend. He knew that’s what the two of you were, you had said so multiple times and so had he.

But Luke couldn’t help but wonder if there was a chance for something more. He couldn’t help but imagine a world where you would attend more games, where he would leave the locker room and you would be waiting for him beside his parents. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if you had been more than a friend in his head for far longer than he cared to admit. 

And he really couldn’t help but wonder if he was stuck in the friendzone for good with you. 

.

[sweetteainthesummerx]

|◁ II ▷| down bad ! |◁ II ▷|

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

pairing: quinn hughes x famous singer! reader

warnings: fluff, smut is implied but not graphic!! use of y/n.

summary: your sister sends you an article of you and quinn being absolutely down bad for each other...

word count: 2.4 k

notes: saw one too many edits of my handsome boy on TikTok and this is the consequence :) also, this is sort of based off of taylor swift and travis kelce. enjoy!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

you're finishing up in the studio, just done tweaking one of your last songs on your new album when your phone dings! with a notification.

it's your sister, who sends a trail of emojis that don't really make sense and a link.

you press on it, confused and assuming it's something she wants for her birthday that's coming up soon.

instead it's an article that reads, TOP TEN FAN FAVOURITE MOMENTS OF NHL AND THE MUSIC INDUSTRY'S ROYAL COUPLE.

you laugh, because the cover photo is one of you and quinn from last year when you took him as your plus one to the grammy's. you have to admit, you both look really good, and so, so in love.

so you nestle into your chair to read it.

TOP TEN FAN FAVOURITE MOMENTS OF NHL AND THE MUSIC INDUSTRY'S ROYAL COUPLE

one of Hollywood's up and comings, y/n l/n and quinn hughes of canucks and nhl fame have been dating for over three years, and have been public for two. we have complied a list of fan favourite moments of the couple over the span of their relationship that show their deep (and public) affection and love for each other

10. 2023 Grammy's Award Ceremony

picture: you are wearing a light blue floor length gown, hair loose and curled. your makeup is simple and glowy. quinn stands next to you, in a clean, slate grey suit with a hand wrapped around your hip, fingers nestled in the dip of your hipbone.

the award ceremony for the grammy's - where y/n won best album for the second year in a row - was when the famous couple first went public officially, not counting the many paparazzi pictures taken in both vancouver and Los Angeles.

sources show that the two could hardly keep their hands off of each other. they were seen kissing multiple times through out the night.

it was true, quinn had been extra handsy that night, and had all but ripped that dress off of you when you got back to the hotel. you sigh at the memory, stomach warm and a little achy. you can't wait for him to come back from the roadie he left for only two days ago.

9. y/n's tiktoks

despite their massive success in their respective industries, it is easy to forget that they are also part of gen z. y/n's TikTok page features fashion, her music and most popular of all, her boyfriend. here are only some of her most viewed and liked videos:

video one: you smile into the camera, fluffing your hair in a close shot. the subtitles read: fit check with my bf! quinn pulls you against him by your waist, kissing your face over and over as you laugh, pushing at his chest. over the song, you tell him to let go so you can show your outfits. he lets go reluctantly but holds your hand, spinning you around to show off your sundress. then he grabs you and dips you low, hands dangerously close to your ass, as you giggle into his cheek.

video two: the video is taken by one of your friends who took your phone. she's on the couch and you and quinn are in the kitchen cooking for the small get together in your vancouver apartment. you lean up to smile at him, and he bumps his nose with yours. some trending love song plays in the back.

you flush at the comments gushing about how he looks at you, the height difference and how cute you guys are. there's something so sweet at seeing the two of you from an outsiders perspective.

8. quinn knowing y/n's entire discography

during media days, one interview has elias petterson and quinn hughes guessing songs and the artists. the journalist managed to sneak at least four of y/n's songs in, quinn getting all four correct, with the full name of the song, name of artist and then album, all under 10 seconds of the song playing. now that's a supportive boyfriend!

you watch the video linked, your boyfriend sweaty and hair wet. the media person is impressed, and quinn just shrugs bashfully and offers a crooked smile. you look at the time stamp and bite a grin: it's from before you guys went public. no wonder all of your fans say you guys were obvious.

7. quinn hughes: nhl player and personal bodyguard

fame in hollywood forces many in the industry to have body guards, and y/n is not exempt. for many years before she started dating the canuck's defensemen, she's had many bodyguards following her around. now, it seems like her boyfriend has taken over that job.

video: your body guard, john moves to open the limo door as you and quinn arrive to an event, but your boyfriend crosses from his side of the car to open it himself, patting john on the shoulder and gently pushing him from the entrance and helping you out himself. he helps you balance on your heels as you stand and wave at the cameras, one hand on your waist as he maneuvers you to the other side of the sidewalk so he can block you from the cars. he keeps your hand cradled in his, his other arm around your waist as he shoulders through the paparazzi.

quinn looks so attractive and so masculine in this video. you've never had boyfriends who took princess treatment so seriously, but quinn has always been a defender, on ice and off. it was a little awkward and it took a long a while for him to get you, but ever since he had you, he's made sure he tried his very best to keep and protect you.

6. getaway in hawaii

although the couple hasn't had any announcement of engagement yet, early last year they were sighted in hawaii on a trip eerily like a honeymoon: here are some pictures.

picture one: you're in a tiny pink bikini and he's in board shorts. he's taken off his hat to give to you, and you're pressing on a pair of your too-small sunglasses onto his face while both of you laugh.

picture two: the two of you are standing in the water up to your calves. he's got his fingers tangled in the strings of your bikini bottoms, and yours are on his chest as the two of you look into the horizon.

picture three: quinn has you balanced on his shoulder, smiling as you clutch at his back. one of his forearms is possessively covering your ass from the camera, and his other hand is wrapped fully around your ankle to give you a semblance of balance.

you still smile every time you think of that trip, afternoons playing in the water, romantic dinners and nights with his head between your legs, your fingers tangled in his hair. you silently remind yourself to book a vacation back there the next time both of you are free.

5. the NHL award ceremony

the recent NHL award ceremony when quinn hughes received the James Norris award for his skills as a defenceman gave us another peek into y/n's relationship with hughes family.

video one: you're sitting between quinn and luke in your pretty dark blue gown. your hair is pulled back from your face the way quinn likes. he's got an arm thrown over the back of the seat, fingers rubbing your shoulder as you talk to Luke about his hair routine. quinn murmurs something the camera can't catch into your ear and you laugh, tucking your hand into the his that's resting on his lap. he leans back, stretching his legs as you absentmindedly rub his knee, leaning over his brothers to talk to his mom.

video two: his name is called, and you stand with him, clapping loudly. he hugs you first, and you press a kiss into the corner of his lip, but he plants a firm, real one on yours. your manicured, white nails contrast against the black expanse of his suit and broad back. you push him gently towards luke. when he's finished hugging everyone and comes back down the aisle, you quickly fix his tie and smooth down his lapels. he kisses your cheek again and goes down to the stage.

photo three: the trophy is in the middle, the whole family wrapped together. you're tucked between ellen, the older woman has an arm around your waist and your boyfriend's got is arm slung across you shoulders on you other side, everyone smiling big for the camera.

you still remember ellen and jim insisting that you get in the photo, because "you're practically family anyways," and "it's any day now" that their son proposes to you. the photo is on their fridge, to this day.

4. quinn's y/n shirt

another video from y/n's tiktok. during the christmas season, she spent the holidays with the hughes family. her future brother in law (hopefully), jack hughes got quinn a pretty special present.

video: jack is holding the camera, and it pans to you and quinn. your holding a giant sushi stuffed toy (long story) from luke on your lap as you sit next to your boyfriend.

"here," he extends a hand holding a bag to his older brother.

Quinn smiles in thanks and digs into it, retrieving shirt. but it's no ordinary shirt. it's one of those old, retro looking ones with your face blown out all over it.

pictures from red carpets, your album covers, and in gaudy, shadowy text, it reads: IF LOST, RETURN TO Y/N L/N.

Luke cackles as you bury your face in quinn's shoulder. he's letting out a deep, belly laugh as his parents smile and take pictures of it when he holds it out.

he immediately pulls off his sweatshirt and tugs the shirt on. it fits a little tight.

"merry christmas!" jack yells as he gives you a high-five.

he still wears that stupid shirt around the apartment, just because he knows you like the fit and your face plastered all over his chest.

3. y/n's songs about her boyfriend

through many new releases, we have determined a list of songs about quinn from her new album, lover.

sweet nothing

paper rings

lover

daylight

I think he knows

afterglow

good looking

wow, you think. these people must not have lives if they're rummaging through your digital footprint and media presence with your boyfriend just to link them with your songs.

2. quinn's interview

since the couple has gone public, y/n has been seen at Canuck's games with family and friends. since she's from vancouver, born and raised, she is passionate about hockey and fits right in.

video one: the jumbotron flashes your face an name; you're wearing quinn's canucks jersey, hair loose. you smile and flutter your fingers at the crowd that's going crazy. one the ice, quinn's teammates jostle and holler at him, and you blow him a kiss. he pretends to catch it, and the screaming in the stadium reaches a new level as the screen pans to him: he's pink and all smiley.

video two: the ref makes a call and you stand, throwing your hands up in the air, exasperated. you huff, sitting back down with your head in your hands. your friends watch on with disappointment, and the three of you let out complains.

video three: quinn grins while looking off camera in the middle of an interview, and the journalist laughs.

"your girl?" he asks, and quinn nods shyly.

"yeah, it's real nice to see her here supporting. I mean, she's really busy too with her tours, but it's nice to have her on my turf."

"I saw! she got really riled up for the penalty during the second period. she's wearing your jersey as well."

"yeah," he scratches his neck, scrunching his nose to hide the big ass smile on his face, "she looks great, eh?"

"glad to see her in her hometown, too."

"right. yeah, I love her so much."

you snicker at how love sick he looks, because early on in the relationship he followed you around like a clingy, lost puppy. he still does sometimes after a roadie or one of your tours. you love it.

1. karma is the guy on the rink, coming straight home to me

the internet broke when y/n changed one of the songs on her song list for her tour last year at rogers arena in vancouver: instead of "karma is the guy on the screen, coming straight home to me", which is a reference to her ex, she changes it to better fix her new romance.

video: you dance through the song, your backup dancers clueless as you reach the line.

"karma is the guy on the rink, comin' straight home to me!" your voice breaks a little in a giggle at the end, your dancers shocked laughter and gasps visible from their faces that even an iPhone camera from 25 meters away can catch.

video two: quinn's in the tent with your parents and some of his teammates and their girlfriends, all of them are vibing to the music and dancing, most holding drinks in their hands.

when the line hits the speakers, everyone is screaming so loud and filming him, and he blushes so red that it spreads to his ears and neck, even in the dim light. his boys are slapping his back, and your dad gives him a high-five. he just smiles at you, dopey and deliriously happy in his shirt of your face and the 20 friendship bracelets your fans had made for him.

you remember that show perfectly, and the night after even better. you barely got any sleep because of his attentions, and your makeup artists spent nearly half an hour covering up the bruises on your neck and chest the next morning.

all in all, we can come to the conclusion that quinn hughes and y/n l/n are completely down bad for each other, like she teased in the song list of her unreleased album. we only hope for good things in the future for this famous couple!

you smile at the closing statement, sending it to quinn to read later in his hotel room.

he facetimes you that night, hair wet and eyes sleepy.

"that article was absolutely right. I am so down bad for you." he tells you seriously, with the promise of lots of love when he comes straight home to you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

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