#but I have the necklace! and I always wear it and it's fine

[luveline]

can you pls do Sirius and his loser!gf <3 where she’s getting insecure about how cool he is and how much of a loser she is so she stops doing her fun little hobbies and tries to change and he can’t wrap his head around it? luv u 

fem, 2.4k

Shaving the backs of your legs is hard, but you only cut yourself once. More of a rash. It’s fine. And buying new clothes is worse, trying everything on, attempting to make outfits you aren’t brave enough to wear, it’s difficult, but Sirius got you a gift card for your birthday with too much money on it anyways. It’s okay. Doing your makeup like this, following the tutorials and learning how to keep a steady hand, it was frustrating, but it’s done now. 

You turn in the mirror in silence. Small black dress with a reasonable and yet somehow brave skirt. Loafers, leather, shiny and brown. White socks. Baby sleeves, little silver necklace. You look cute, you do, but Sirius sees you everyday. This was all pointless —he knows you’re a loser already. 

He won’t laugh at you, but he’ll raise his brows and whistle or ask what’s gotten into you, because this isn’t normal. You’re not normal. 

“Darling,” he says from somewhere downstairs, and you aren’t ever sure if he’s teasing or if he actually thinks you’re his darling, “are you ready to go? Not that you need to rush, but we might have more chance of getting a table if we leave soon.” 

“Yeah, two seconds!”

“Okay!” There’s a sound of scuffed boots against the wall. “I’m gonna go find Tilly!”

Tilly’s your little white cat. His suggestion, an uncharacteristic expression of worry. I don’t want you to be lonely, he’d said, though you both know you’re always lonely, less so since you met him. You’re a lonely person, and it’s not anyone’s fault, but Sirius acts as though it’s his and he tries his hardest to fix things. Tilly —his name choice, too, the posh bastard— was a year old by the time you got him and has remained very small. A rescue, he refuses to stay inside and yowls like mad if you restrain him, so you let him out in the garden in the daytime. Your house is far from the beaten path, you don’t worry about him often, and besides, he always comes when Sirius calls. 

He barely has to raise his voice for the cat when you hear the tinkle of a jumping bell. “There you are, sweet boy. Yes, hello. You aren’t having anymore ham, it’s your mum’s.” 

That’s nice. 

You gather some bits into a handbag and wrap a jacket around your strange outfit, ready to head downstairs. You’re hoping Sirius won’t have anything to say about what you’re wearing. You might die. 

When you get to the kitchen, Sirius is stroking Tilly’s back as the cat eats a slice of ham from a little saucer on the table. He looks up at your footsteps. Even now, he takes your breath away. It’s a rabid cliche and it couldn’t be more accurate —you choke on your exhale, witness to his good looks in the warm yellow light from the kitchen shade above. Sirius has always been handsome, outspokenly so, and somehow simultaneously there’s an understated quality to him. Perhaps it’s how he’s smiling at you, all warmth and no bravado. Not a lick of performance. You’ll never know why you were the exception, why, that night at the show, surrounded by people far prettier than you are, he’d stopped by your table and said, “Alright?” 

Yes, you’d said back. Thank you. 

You’re welcome. I’m Sirius.

You know now it was unlike him to act so calmly. He must’ve sensed that grand flirting would’ve scared you off. Not that he doesn’t flirt, does he ever stop? But your Sirius often feels like a secret. He only makes sense with you when you’re alone. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, smug in his way. 

“Nothing.” 

“Well,” he says, letting the pause between his words breathe deeply, “you look beautiful. But you have a cut?” 

You turn your knee to show him more clearly, peering down at it unhappily, “Oh, I know, I cut it in the bath, is it noticeable?” 

“It’s fine. Does it hurt?” 

You rub your cheek. “No, not really. I’m ready now, sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, why are you sorry?” He rubs Tilly’s little snout and stands. “I feel quite stir crazy today. Do you know what I mean? If we weren’t going out for food I’d probably scream.” 

Sirius cups your cheek. He’s not particularly gentle, but that doesn’t mean he’s throwing you about either, quick and greedy with his touching in a way that’s never made much sense to you. 

He takes your shoulder and ferries you from the house, locks the door, insists on driving. “Tilly’s got the vets on Saturday next, I’ll make sure I’m not doing anything, it’s at five so we’ll go at half four, yeah?” 

“Thank you. For sorting everything out.”

“Well, he’s not really a present if I make you do all that stuff, is it?”

“You don’t have to keep paying for his food, though.” 

“Shut up, not having this conversation again.” He reaches over the gearstick for your thigh. “You look pretty. Don’t let me embarrass you, but this is quite new, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, yeah. I got it with the card you bought me. I hope that’s okay.” 

“Of course it is.” He frowns. You watch his face as he watches the road, melted by the rough of his hand slipping up and down your thigh. His bracelet tickles as he goes, a ten thread embroidery bracelet you’d woven for him when you were still too scared to call him your boyfriend. He takes good care of it. Never showers with it on, so the colours have stayed bright and clean. 

“The makeup is nice, too. You always look nice.” 

“Thank you,” you say, covering his hand with your own. This lessens his frown some, but he’s onto you. Suspicious as he parks the car by the pub. 

Then a blank slate falls over his pretty features. “Hey, you know what? James said there’s been a huge family of ducks in the pond behind the two for one, should we go have a look? Baby ones, too.” 

You grin. “Really?” 

“Green ones and everything.” 

You scramble out of the car. It’s a little brisk for the outfit you’ve made up, just, all the cool girls on the website you’d browsed for information had nice legs that they used to their advantage, nobody was wearing jeans or tights, just skirts. Skirts skirts skirts. And you like skirts, but you would’ve worn a pair of jeans and a hoodie any other day. It’s only dinner at the two for one. 

You and Sirius make your way down from the asphalt to the beaten path, through grass and to the edge of the pond, walking along lain wood chips as the pond opens up and the blue expands nearly further than the eye can see. 

“You’re terribly in your head today,” Sirius says. 

“Sorry, am I?” you ask. 

Not cool. You’re lying about not knowing, but Sirius is kind enough to let it slide. For now. “You are. I was wondering if maybe you aren’t happy in the dress. It really does look lovely, you look lovely. It’s nice that you’re trying something new.” 

“But?” 

He offers his hand to hold. You let him slip his fingers between yours and squeeze. “No buts. It really is nice. You know I like you in your joggers, but it’s nice to dress up.” 

You bite back another useless oh, pulling him toward you as you fall into step. Your arms and your shoulders touch. “Yeah. I don’t look stupid?” 

“You don’t look stupid,” he confirms. 

“I think I feel stupid.” 

“It’s always jarring to try new things. You think everyone can tell, but they can’t.” 

“I want this to be me. Like– like, it’s not that I don’t want to dress like this, I do. I don’t think it’s stupid to want to look dressed up or anything…” 

“You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” 

You falter where the wood chips are turned to long, green grass at the edge of the water. “What?” 

“Why don’t you make your bracelets anymore?” 

“My bracelets?” 

“Yeah, and your keychains. You don’t make them. You haven’t been watching your shows, either. I… was worried you were going a bit topsy-turvy. You’ve always been my…” You stare at him, not sure you recognise this Sirius who can’t seem to put words together. “You’re a quiet girl, yeah? You don’t go out much, but I thought you liked things that way. I was wondering if maybe you’re a bit depressed, sweetheart. What do you think? Tell me how you’re feeling.” 

You shake your head gently. “Maybe a little, just…” 

You cast your eyes to the water. At the other end of the lake, the family of ducks have emerged from by the cattails and the pondweeds, swimming far, far away in a broken V. 

You don’t usually keep things from Sirius. It’s a big part of why you love him —he loves to hear you talk. You can chat for hours about nothing at all and he eats it up, interrupting with jokes and kisses and soft touches behind your ear. But what are you supposed to say to him now? I feel like I’m not enough for you, not cool enough, not charming. “Do you ever think it’s sad that I can’t seem to make any good friends?” you ask through a smile. “I try my best. I’ve joined all those clubs and I talk to people on the internet, but somehow I’ve never really made any.” 

“You do try your best,” he agrees quietly. 

“But you’re, like, the only person I’ve met who properly likes me.” 

“That’s not true. I’m just the only person who’s managed to get to know you, it’s not– it’s not as simple as liking you. James really likes you, but I’m your boyfriend and he’s not. It’s circumstance.” 

You’re tempted to laugh. “I’m uncool. It’s not funny, it’s quite bad, really, that all my hobbies are stupid, that I never learned how to dress, that– I’m so behind everyone. I think it’s quite miraculous that I have a boyfriend in the first place, but you being my boyfriend? It only happens in books.” 

Sirius acts more like himself when you’re done, loosing your hand go to grab you by the face. “That’s all rubbish,” he says, pressing a sympathetic kiss to the space between your eyebrows. He lingers there, forcing you to shut your eyes tightly. “Yeah? That’s rubbish, you know that’s rubbish. You do. You’ve thought about it too much and you’re not feeling the best and you’ve, like, twisted it up. Because you aren’t uncool, and you aren’t stupid, and this doesn’t just happen in books. It happens in real life, that’s why people write about it.” He’s drawn away, frowning in the frame of your parting lashes. “The things you like aren’t stupid, sweetheart, they’re just not all the same as everyone else. It’s okay to be a bit different, it’s not like you’re an alien. There are tons of girls who like to do your crafts and watch those long tv shows and stuff, you don’t think they’re weird, do you?” 

You shake your head. 

“No.” He relaxes his hold on your face, his hands slipping to the curves of your neck. “I quite like you, which you know. I like that you’re a bit different. I like that you’re quiet with people we don’t know, ‘cos you’re not shy with me. You’re just you, my girl.” 

“I know you like me,” you murmur. 

It doesn’t help you like yourself as much as you both might hope, but it’s not anything to shake your head at, either. 

Sirius manoeuvres you in front of him, his face pressed to the side of your head and his arms coming to hold you at your chest, encouraging you to look out at the water. It ripples with the flock of coming ducks. “Shiny heads,” you mumble. 

“They are much prettier,” he says. “Bet all the other ducks think they’re weird.” 

“Shush,” you mumble, wishing he’d say more as he draws a heart into your chest with his thumb. You can feel it despite your layers. 

“Bet they love doing weird duck stuff.” 

“Subtle.” 

“I’m not subtle, and I never will be, and you don’t mind.” 

It’s heavy-handed but effective. You relax into Sirius’ chest and find yourself suddenly eager to come clean completely, to tell him every detail of the worries you’ve worried these last few weeks, but you wonder if there’s a point. It’ll upset him if he knows how deeply your self-disdain runs, and it’s not as though it makes you feel better to confess to it. 

He noses at the soft skin beside your eye. “You know there’s nothing wrong with you, don’t you?” 

“I don’t know that.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” 

You lean back fully. “Thanks,” you say. Your mouth feels heavy with honey.  

Sirius points at a duck splitting off from the group. “That’s one of the babies. Cute. And friendless for now, but I bet soon–”

You turn in his arms and wrap your own around his neck. “It’s not about friends, Sirius.” 

“I know.” 

He gives you a quick, loving cuddle by the water and pulls apart from you with a twinkle in his eye you recognise and revere. When he spends the evening doting, kissing, and being altogether too touchy, you want to be embarrassed, rejecting his affection because you begged for it with your awkward confession, but you let him be kind to you because you love him, and he loves you, no matter how many ways you might try to change.

He sees you smiling dopily at him over dessert and asks if you’d like to be spoon fed. Won’t get anything on your dress, swear. 

[moon-ttokki-x]

stylist!reader x seungmin or jeongin??? any scenario!!

hi hi~ i needed more seungmin and jeongin requests . . . been wanting to write for them so bad but i couldn't think of anything lol . anyway, here you goo~~~

₊✩‧₊˚ stylist!reader x kim seungmin ˚₊✩‧₊

pairing: stylist!reader x kim seungmin

summary: being seungmin's stylist has its perks (mostly)

genre: idol!au, stylist!au, cheeky boy, soft and fluffy, mentions of jyp (yes that needs a warning), please bring back doberman seungmin he was my fav :(

a/n: sorry idk who made this divider . . . if it was you lmk so i can tag and credit u <3

skz masterlist

you have to drag him everywhere

like by his literal collar

or whatever it is that he's wearing

bc this man does not want to walk

like

anywhere

drag him to the mirror, drag him behind a curtain to fix his outfit

it never ends

and he moves around a lot too while you're doing his makeup

more than once you've gotten chan to hold his jaw shut so you can powder it or fix up his contour

and he always stares at you while you do it

with his little meanie face

you know the one he makes where he's trying to be scary but it doesn't work on anyone so he's just like >:|

yeah that one

complains a lot about his appearance to piss you off

'i don't like the eye makeup' 'i hate this shirt'

it never ends but you're used to it so he kind of gives up after a while

when you got assigned to him, he would stare into your eyes while you were doing his makeup to try and make you fumble

bc let's be honest no one could focus if kim seungmin was staring into their soul

but you got used to that too and now you just ignore it

you always get him to tell you how he's feeling on a certain day so you can sort of match his outfit and makeup to his vibe

if he's in a good mood, lots of scarlet reds and brighter colours

if he's just neutral, then dewy pinks and purples

and if he's having a bad day, lots of metallic silver and black

of course his appearance still has to match the other members' vibes

but you always try to make it a little more special

seungmin would never admit it but he appreciates that so much

most of your job is just looking for him to be honest

like man literally disappears and gets distracted by the tiniest things

there's a bird outside? gone

hyunjin has his back turned and is therefore vulnerable to attack? gone

there's no reason for him to go anywhere?

gone

you've debated putting a tracker in his outfit like a literal dog but you decided against it because it's like playing hide and seek

which is kinda fun

usually he's busy doing something random or looking out the window

or pissing his members off

if worst comes to worst and you can't find him, you just threaten to call chan and he materialises out of thin air

which is kinda funny

and when he won't stay still to let you fix his outfit, you threaten to dress him like jyp

that always works lmao

he just goes absolutely rigid and his eyes go all wide

'please don't'

and you'll just fix his collar or his boots or whatever and off he goes again

multiple times you've told him to put accessories on before he goes on stage

but he always forgets

you've had to drag him backstage countless times before the group went on to perform bc he's forgotten to do what you said

you'll have super steady and nimble hands after a while bc trying to clip a chain necklace on a hyped-up puppy boy is one of the hardest things

like ever

he's just raring to go lol

always runs up to you after performing all sweaty and excited

'did you see me? when i did that move'

or something along those lines

he truly is so soft and sweet but he'll never admit it

and you'll nod and he's have the biggest shiniest prettiest boy smile on his face

stop i'm sad

most of the time he sweats all of his makeup off

and then sheepishly bows to you and apologises for ruining all your hard work

but you shake your head and tell him with a smile that it's fine

and it is, really

he looks hotter when he's all sweaty

huh? what

i didn't say anything

yes i did

after he's warmed up to you

and it takes a while, i'm gonna be completely honest

he refuses to let anyone else do his hair, makeup, or outfit

he just wants you

because you always make sure he can dance properly in his outfit, and that his hair isn't in his eyes, or that he likes his makeup

you would never make him wear anything that makes him uncomfortable either

you're always asking for his input on certain outfit ideas and he tells you honestly what he thinks

and you just take his feedback and make outfits for him that he'll be comfortable in

which makes him swoon for you

again, he would never say anything to you about how he's starting to feel

maybe one day, he thinks he might be able to

until then, he'll settle for looking at your pretty face while you do your thing <3

a/n: yomg i wanna be a skz stylist so baddd (seungmin if ur reading this one chance pls)

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @batty-barty-crouchjr @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585

send a dm, comment under the taglist post, or send an ask to be added !

[glimblshanks]

.

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

haven't been sad like this in a long time

[seiwas]

you're the reason (i got a weakness) | miya atsumu

wc: 2.9k

summary: it’s not that atsumu doesn't like you dressing up like this—in fact, he loves it. just not when you're fighting. not when he can't even call you "baby".

contains: post-timeskip atsumu, arguments and atsumu feeling really sorry, flashbacks, uses the nickname “baby” & “my love”, reader is described as “pretty” and wears heels, hurt/comfort.

a/n: atsumu isn’t a sucky boyfriend he just gets carried away sometimes. song inspo: can you blame me? - kehlani, lucky daye.

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: making yourself look good to feel good (your partner has something to say to you)

sponsored by @itskilau and @tasoyoru for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please check it out and support if you can!

“Bab—”

Atsumu lingers by your bathroom door, eyes drooping lower and sadder than they ever have. The steam makes the bleached strands of his hair cling to his forehead, his thick eyebrows now damp and flattened. 

You sigh, the big, heavy, and deep kind, shoulders dropping as you clasp the lock of your necklace.

He stares. 

That’s his job. You always ask him to do it the moment you step out of the shower. 

His lip trembles, eyes watery.

“Not now, Atsumu.”

You walk past him as you adjust the towel around your chest, your arm brushing against his. It’s a small thing, a sensation ingrained so deeply into the past two years you’ve been together, but he feels it like it’s the first time you ever touched him—and in a way, it is. Since yesterday, at least. 

The silence that trails after you is so deafeningly still, he thinks he can hear his heart breaking. 

“Atsumu,” your voice rings. 

Who the hell is “Atsumu”? 

He’s not supposed to be “Atsumu” to you. He’s “Tsum.” He’s “baby.” He’s “my love.”

Anything but “Atsumu.”

When you close the door of your walk-in closet to change, the metaphorical volleyball of hope floating right into the palm of his hand misses and drops straight to the floor. 

It started with volleyball, as all things with Atsumu do. 

You’d met him at the rise of his career, just a few years of him being pro. You were friends first, but if you ask anyone around Atsumu, they’d tell you you were never just a friend to him; he’d invited you to all his games and practice matches, spent a bit more time in the locker rooms before going out for dinner with you and the rest of the team. 

Osamu has the receipts of all the extra orders of onigiri Atsumu started adding to his regular weekly subscription since meeting you. 

Your first ‘date’ was Atsumu treading the very fine line between teaching you how to play volleyball and teaching himself self-control. Keeping an eye on the ball is hard enough, what more when he has to resist staring at you in very cute volleyball shorts too? 

As MSBY’s success skyrocketed, so did Atsumu’s—brand deals left and right, solo work trips during off seasons, commercials; the whole thing. When Atsumu wasn’t training, he was either traveling  or attending events and photoshoots. Always on-the-go. Moving. 

And he knew you understood, knew you knew him and his tendencies to overwork; knew him, and his habit of getting stuck inside his own world. You’d driven to late practices with bento boxes to share, and you’d packed his gym bag more than a few times, brought in extra clothes without him having to say a word.

You’ve managed his lifestyle better than anyone could.

But, Atsumu has a bad habit of promising more than he should, of serving white lies just as easily as he does volleyballs behind the service line. 

“Won’t take long, baby. Swear it,” he holds on to the wall by your door, slipping his feet inside his dress shoes. “Pick ya up at 6:00?” 

He’d winked at you then, kissed you between your eyebrows and nose before sneaking one more right at that spot underneath your ear.

What he’d give to be able to do that right now. 

“Okay,” you giggle, swatting his chest as you nod, “better hurry then, you might be late.” 

When Atsumu remembers that moment, the way you’d agreed so doubtlessly, he hates himself even more. You trusted him, have trusted him so wholeheartedly this entire time, so maybe you’re right—

“Would it hurt for you to just be honest?” 

—Atsumu has no excuse standing you up on the date he promised you weeks ago all because he lost track of time in some brand event, listening to a potential collaboration on volleyball shoes. Atsumu has no excuse agreeing to “some drinks” right after just to meet the executives of the company. 

There are meetings for those things, ones that can be scheduled and agreed upon. Ones that don’t compromise or add on to the already long list of missed dates with you. 

“I know you’re busy and I understand,” you sigh, turning the knob of the kitchen stove as you heat up the kettle, “you know I do.” 

He stands before you a quarter past 11:00 p.m., cologne long faded and the smell of alcohol spilled on his sleeve. The kitchen island stands like a net on the court, the ball being sent over to his side. 

“Baby, I—”

He passes it back.

You turn from the stove, face fresh and hair tied into a messy low bun as you look at him—how could he have ever stood this–you–up?

You take the ball, “Can I finish what I have to say first?” 

He nods. The kettle begins whizzing.

“I’m happy and so, so proud that you have all these opportunities,” you reach for the cupboard above head to grab a mug. The box of tea bags sits to your right, a mix of Lemon Balm and Chamomile that Atsumu swears keeps his anxieties at bay during the night. “But at least tell me if you can’t make it.” 

You tear open a tea packet, dangling it inside the mug. The kettle whistles, and he feels the onset of a spike. 

“Please don’t keep my hopes up every time.” 

You turn back towards the stove, turning the burner off as you pour in the steaming water inside the mug. 

“Baby, I swear, they just–they started talkin’ ‘bout these shoes, ‘n I thought t’was cool, ‘n the execs–they said the execs’d be there in the afterparty, and—” he breathes, “won’t happen next time, baby. ‘M so—” 

“Can I really believe you next time?”

You approach the kitchen island slowly, holding the piping hot mug carefully as you set it down in front of him. 

Atsumu stood you up on your date, and you still made him tea. 

You hold his stare for a brief moment before you walk away, sadness and disappointment all-in-one.

It is now that Atsumu knows, he’s fucked up.

The ball lands on his side of the court. 

And so, he’s spent this entire day trying to make it up to you—breakfast in the morning, right before training (which he absolutely tanked because all he could think about was how sad you looked the night before); flowers that he brought home after lunch time, just to find the apartment empty. It’s only after a full text thread and three missed calls to your phone that he finally gets a response.

“Nail appointment. Going out tonight,” is your reply (using speech-to-text too, he suspects, with how formal it sounds). 

Which is fine and dandy to him; you should do everything that makes you feel better after he practically took you for granted. It’s just—he hasn’t even said sorry yet, can’t even call you “baby”, can’t even touch you even though he really, really, really wants to. 

And now, with you closing the door on him while you’re changing—there’s nothing else he can do, really, but to walk away and give you some space. 

He shifts his feet, dragging them lightly against the wooden floors of your bedroom.

The moment he hears the door of your walk-in closet slide open, he hurriedly sits down on the edge of your bed, acting as if he wasn’t just anxiously pacing, waiting for you to come out. 

He feels like shit, if he’s being honest—like how he does when he misses a serve; if not, worse. 

You look good. Make-up done to only emphasize the features he loves (which is your entire face, really), and your outfit perfectly accentuating the dips and curves of your body. 

He follows you as you exit the room, tailing after you like a lost puppy. When you stop by your entryway, all he can do is watch as you bend down to put on the straps of your heels. And it sucks, because if you weren’t fighting, Atsumu would be right by your feet, crouched low so that you wouldn’t have to. 

It’s pathetic and a little helpless of him to just stand and stare in the middle of your living room. He should say something at least, but, you just look so good, and his throat feels dry; his heart all achy and stomach twisty. 

He doesn’t want to be away from you. 

And it’s not that he doesn’t like you going out looking like this—he loves it. But as soon as you step out the door with a soft “don’t wait up for me” mumbled from your glossed lips, Atsumu can only taste bitter regret at the fact that he wishes he were coming with you. 

He couldn’t even give you a goodbye kiss. 

The blond groans, pulling at his hair as he rests his elbows down on the kitchen counter. 

“Don’t wait up for me,” you said. As if he can even sleep without you around. 

.

.

.

The hours go by but they feel like days. Atsumu’s done every possible thing he can do in this apartment and it still hasn’t breached 11:00 p.m.. He’s cleaned down the kitchen (twice!) and arranged the food inside the fridge like those ‘stock up my fridge with me’ tiktoks he’s seen on Sakusa’s phone. The clothes on his side of the closet have been arranged by color and length, with all the ones in his dresser refolded, Marie Kondo style. He’s also pretty sure he’s scrubbed the bathroom down enough that you can probably see your reflection on the tiles of the damn thing. The laundry baskets for both your clothes are now empty, and he’s changed the bedsheets too and—

He’s still restless. The numbers on the clock taunt him, moving up agonizingly slowly. He can’t stop looking at the time, itching for you to come home. 

Atsumu is sorry, so so so incredibly so, because you’re right―he hasn’t been fair to you at all, and he needs you to know that he knows it, too. 

His eyes go over the clock again, only a minute having passed since the last time he checked it. 

Is this how you felt? Every time you waited for him to come home for a date he promised you? 

He squeezes his eyes; it hurts him just thinking about it. 

That’s it, he decides, grabbing his phone and wallet as he walks out the door. 

. 

.

.

Atsumu doesn’t check your location often (maybe only a few times). It’s not a trust thing, he swears; it’s just for when he wants to make sure you’re somewhere safe, or in a place he can reach you should you need him there. 

And, you clearly don’t need him right now, but, Atsumu is a little selfish, he admits. 

Sitting at home with all his regret feels worse than seeking you out to beg for your forgiveness, whether you want him to or not. 

He’s barely dressed for the venue as he steps inside the bar, a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt with those fashionable Birkenstock clogs on. A few people seem to recognize him, tilting their heads and murmuring among themselves as he walks through door, but none of them approach him, thankfully, except for a server asking if he needs assistance. 

His eyes scan the tables first, searching for any semblance of the outfit he’d seen you leave in earlier. The dim lights make it increasingly difficult for him to look for your properly as he squints his eyes some more, narrowing his vision to the people at the front bar this time. It’s after the fourth person he dismisses that he feels himself getting desperate, nearly turning towards the server beside him to ask for help.

Until he spots you—tucked in the corner of the front bar, sitting on the barstool with your legs crossed as you swirl around your drink. 

You look bored, and a little sad, chin resting in your hand as you lean your elbow on the table. 

He frowns, thanking the server on the side as he makes his way to you slowly. You barely notice him as you bring out your phone, tapping on the screen as you stare at it almost longingly―a photo of you and him some time ago after one of his games. He knows it well, can still remember that day so clearly: when he became a PR nightmare because he couldn’t help but announce your relationship by kissing you in front of everybody. 

It makes his chest hurt. 

Then, you swipe it open, and he’s close enough now to be able to catch a glimpse of what’s on your screen: your text thread with him, his last message being, “Did you make it safely?” 

(You pout, eyes pricking with tears. You didn’t reply to him then because you weren’t ready to fully talk to him yet, still upset and disappointed. 

It was easy to make yourself feel better by dressing up and stepping out of the apartment earlier, the promise of good drinks and good company awaiting your arrival; you couldn’t think about how you felt if you were busying yourself with others. But now that all of those feelings have died down and most of your friends have started chatting up other people they’ve found, it’s beginning to hit you all at once just how much you still prefer Atsumu’s company more than anything else.

Your fingers hover over your text box, typing and deleting. Typing and deleting.) 

He’s two stools away from you now, and he can barely contain it―

“Baby,” his voice trembles, unsteady. 

Recognition fills you as you turn to the sound, half-confused at whether you’re hearing things; whether―

(“Tsum,” you mutter, eyes catching a pair of familiar warm brown staring back at you. His bottom lip quivers, the embodiment of a dam starting to crack, vibrating.

Your emotions are a mess, your breath on hold as you feel tears welling up in your lashline too. You still feel upset, still a little sad, and a tiny bit disappointed, but what coats them all is a sense of relief because—)

―he’s here, standing in front of you like he just rolled out of the house with barely enough time to get dressed (which, you’re sure is exactly how things went), and you’re sliding off the bar stool in the prettiest outfit, looking like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

“‘M so sorry,” he breathes out, stepping closer as he grabs your hand, “Don’t ever wanna make y’feel like that again.” His knee gives way as he starts sinking to the floor, “I won’t do that anymore―” 

“Tsum,” you try to call his attention.

He’ll beg for your forgiveness whether you like it or not. 

(The interaction is causing nearby tables to look, murmurs and whispers in your periphery as you catch vague sentences here and there. He still is a public figure, after all.) 

But Atsumu is unaware, looking at you and you alone as he pleads, “No, please hear me out first. I promise I’ll tell ‘em they can speak ‘ta―” 

“Tsum,” you squeeze his hand, whispering more firmly as you try to pull him up. 

“Baby, please. Gimme the chance ‘ta show ya that I―”

(You look around and notice even more eyes on the two of you, fond looks on their faces as they prepare their phones for what seems like something momentous. Then it hits you, how this looks―)

“Tsum, please stand up,” you tug at his hand strongly, urging him to stand. His eyebrows furrow as he obliges, only comprehending why when you explain it to him softly, “people were starting to think you were about to propose.” 

He pauses for a moment, a slight, “Oh,” as he ponders on it. “Well, if that’s what’ll prove it t’ya, then—” 

You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips curling slightly as you hit his shin with your foot and squeeze his hand again, “Don’t joke about things like that.” 

Well, it’s not the first time it’s crossed his mind, if he’s being honest. 

He sighs, sitting on the stool beside you as he rubs his thumb over your hand again, bringing it close to his lips to kiss softly. 

“‘M really sorry, baby,” he mumbles against your skin before moving your hand over his heart. “Don’t ever want ya feelin’ like this again.” 

“I know,” you give him a small smile, patting down some of the strands of his hair that stick out, “you didn’t have to come out here though, you know. I was about to go home soon, anyway.” 

“Can ya blame me? Seein’ ya off like that?” he grips your hand tighter as his voice softens. “Y’re too pretty to be sad,” he plays with your fingers, intertwining them with his.

You hit his shin again, feeling shy. You always do when Atsumu likes to sweet-talk you. 

“Do ya forgive me?” he asks after some time, as you take the last few sips of your drink. 

You hum, looking him in the eyes as you nod, pouting, “I don’t like being mad at you, you know.” He lights up, beaming, but you add on, “We still have to talk about it properly, though. Later, when we get back.” 

He nods in agreement, holding your hand as you slide off the barstool, guiding you out of the bar and into the car. 

. 

.

.

(You both do talk about it properly, and the next time Atsumu promises you a date, he blocks it out of all of his calendars, sending the date to his manager even, just to be extra sure.) 

a/n: this has been such a long time coming, i'm sorry to those who waited! i hope you enjoyed even though this simmered with me for way too long 😭 i love writing atsumu a little lovesick but i also think he deserves someone who is equally as in deep as he is 🥺

thank you notes: to 🍧 anon for helping me figure out "what would make you mad at atsumu?" and to @ceroseis and @mieiri for always listening to my shenanigans pre-writing!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[foldingfittedsheets]

Time for another ex-jewelry store worker PSA.

Don’t sleep with your jewelry on.

Really.

It’s so bad for most jewelry, but especially necklaces and rings with stones. Studs are more alright generally if they have a threaded back though it does still wear the back down, but honestly the wear and tear simply from sleeping on jewelry is insane. Solid rings are pretty much always fine but taking them off regularly is still a good practice. An alarming number of people get rings stuck on that need to be cut off.

Chain links stretch and with most chains once they start breaking from the cumulative wear there’s no fixing them because every link is gonna start giving out one after another.

Prongs used to set stones in rings literally wear down twice as fast when slept with and you lose stones more easily if fibers from your sheets catch on your prongs.

Earring backs loosen and clasps wear down.

As someone cleaning jewelry on the daily it was instantly apparent when it was slept on because it showed exponentially more wear and tear across the board than jewelry that got taken off.

If you’re like I used to be and worry that if you take it off you won’t remember to put it back on try to set up a bedtime routine at the place where you get ready for the day. It takes some getting used to. Sometimes I forget my ring. But it’s worth maintaining something I want to last me the rest of my life.

[rainydayathogwarts]

Hi! Love your writing!

Could I request a fic with George x reader x Fred, or poly!Marauders x reader, either is fine, and a reader that loves to wear necklace because the boys always pull on it to grab her attention???

Necklace - Poly!Marauders

i love it. literally read the request and began making scenarios in my head. warnings: allusions to sex, suggestive 1k wc

The first time it happened, the action had come from an impatient Sirius, waiting for you to finish revising for your upcoming assessment. His restless whispers of your name and tireless poking had gone ignored. You were too used to it. However, when Sirius spotted the new addition of jewellery you bore around your neck, a lightbulb lit up in his mind. A loud gasp slipped out of your mouth when his finger curled around the necklace, tugging at it hard enough to pull your neck down slightly. Sirius waited for your reaction: would he get yelled at, or would you finally give him your attention. You turned your head to the side, looked at Sirius with a shocked look on your face. "Sirius." The exasperated yet amused sigh of his name had the boy smirking.

"Can I finally have your attention now?" With an arm now draped across your shoulders, you let the boy lean into you, pressing his lips against yours. Placing your pen on the table, you cupped Sirius's face, letting his tongue slide into your mouth, deepening the kiss. He moaned quietly, the sound muffling in your mouth, and adjusted himself to hover over you slightly — something he only dared to do in the darkest corner of the library, otherwise you'd have his head. You parted from the kiss panting, looking up at your boyfriend with complete amazement, a laugh bubbling in your chest. "Sirius get down!" You whisper yelled at him, pushing his chest away from you. "Fine." The boy replied, with a grin too big for him to be up to any good. Sirius slipped onto his knees in front of you, parting your legs only for you to immediately shut them. "Absolutely not." You scolded, a hand tightly gripping his collar in a poor attempt to pull him back on the sofa booth. The boy pouted, climbing back next to you and pecking your lips a few times whilst saying in between kisses "Well at least come with me to the dorm."

And you had.

Sirius considered it a successful mission, laying down with you in his bed, getting your well-deserved rest after such intense events that had occured. He stroked your hair, watching your peaceful expressions while you slept, not having to worry about any of your boys. When the door opened and James and Remus had entered, stopping in their tracks at the view in Sirius's bed, he had grinned widely, telling them "You guys have to hear this." while James moaned "Without me?"

Remus had scolded Sirius at the time, saying something about 'being careful' and 'not hurting you', but now, looking at where you sat next to him in the common room, chatting with Marlene, he became curious. He rested his head on your shoulder, watching your face, becoming giddy at the hand you rested on his thigh, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to be the centre of your attention now. Sirius and James sat on the opposite couch to you two, giving each other a look. This was unusual for Remus. The tall boy hesitantly reached up and tugged at the chain hanging on your chest. You barely felt the pull, but it was enough for you to avert your attention to him. "Hey, you." You mumbled, cocking your head to the side. The tired boy smiled softly, returning the greeting. You reached a hand up, brushing long strands of hair away from his eyes. "Want some attention, do you?" You mumbled, opening your palm face up on Remus's thigh for him to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Remus nodded, asking shyly "Can we go on a walk or something?" You hummed, standing up and excusing yourself from the conversation, guiding Remus out of the common room by the hand. Sirius's trick really did work.

Staring at yourself in the mirror a couple of weeks later, you began thinking. Sirius and Remus had taken advantage of the Christmas gift from your parents, using it to grasp your attention, but James hadn't. You hummed — Sirius had definitely told both of the boys about it, so what was stopping James?

It only happened with him later that day, when you were in the boys' dorm, feet kicked up on Sirius' lap with Remus sat by your side. James came storming through the door to their dorm, kicking his shoes off his feet and pulling frustratedly at his tie. The three of you sat up straighter, alarmed by the boy's irritation. You had a feeling that if anything else vexed him, he might burst into tears. James didn't greet any of you until he'd put on a comfortable jumper and joggers, walking over to Sirius to press a kiss on his forehead before doing the same with Remus, who placed a caring hand on his back. James strode over to you, hooking his finger around your necklace and pulling you upwards from where you sat.

Your eyes widened when James didn't let go of your precious necklace, in fear that it might snap. However, James only continued tugging at it, forcing you to stand from your seat until he was close enough to press his lips against yours. When you finally stood straight, throwing your arms over James's muscular shoulders and tangling a hand in his luscious waves, he secured his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground just slightly. You broke the kiss, gasping out James's name as Sirius teasingly wolf-whistled — a risk to take given the boy's mood.

James returned you to the ground, but didn't loosen his grip on you, instead digging his head into the crook of your neck as he muttered "Haven't seen you all week. Could only think about you all of detention." Your eyebrows furrowed with worry, and you asked "Who gave you detention?" "Slughorn. Could've been with you instead." You smiled, flattered by his words, and stage whispered "What to cuddle for a bit? We don't have to invite the other two." Mock complaints were immediately thrown by Remus and Sirius, who finally scoffed "We can also cuddle without you guys!"

You let James drag you to his bed, laying down so you can hold him in his arms before making eye contact with Remus, who finally stood up, walking over to you both, and leaned down to press a kiss on James's forehead. "We're here for you if you need anything, mate."

[kairoot]

TEETH ⌇ SJY

SINK MY TEETH IN YA— jake has been hiding a huge secret from you—he’s a vampire. after going six months without feeding, his control is slipping, especially when he's around you, sensing your blood. when you notice his strange behavior and confront him, he brushes it off. but soon, he can’t hide it anymore and reveals the truth, expecting you to be scared. instead, he’s shocked when you offer to let him feed from you.

𝓅𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 vamp!jake x 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 esatablished relationship , thriller (?) , suggestive 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 biting.. (jake is a vamp hello…), kissing, physical touch, etc. — ℳ𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴：layout insp by sav bb 🤍. please reblog and/or leave feedback. it is greatly appreciated !— 𝐌𝐒𝐅.

“you ready, babe?” jake asked, walking in the bedroom while still running a comb through his gelled hair.

you adjusted the necklace in the mirror, moving it around to your liking.

“almost.”

jake chuckled to himself, knowing it always took you a while to get yourself dolled up and you’d stand in the mirror until you actually liked what you were wearing.

“you look fine, baby.” he appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.

you sighed, not believing him but prepared to leave anyway. you both decided to attend the town’s halloween party tonight (you begged jake to go), seeing as you don’t really go out as much as you used to. when you and jake started dating, you both attended nearly every gathering there was. but jake had suddenly become uninterested in going out.

you wondered why, seeing as he always seemed like a people person to you but after some thought, you figured he just wanted to stay in and enjoy each other in private. you didn’t mind it, but a part of you missed the lively atmosphere.

jake still clung to you, placing his face in the crook of your neck.

“what perfume are you wearing tonight? smells so good..” he mumbled, almost slurring, taking in whatever scent it was. the smell was so intoxicating, he almost felt faint.

“i didn’t put any on yet,” you giggled, not noticing his grip on you tighten and the slight tension in his body.

now jake was confused. if you didn’t have any perfume on, why was your scent so strong? it seemed irresistible.

but once he thought about it, the answer popped in his head. before he could pull away, a searing pain shot through the front of his mouth, causing his hand to fly up to hold it.

you turned around when you heard him let out a painful groan, placing a hand on his jaw, giving him a concerned look.

“is everything okay?” you questioned, waiting for him to answer as his face contorted in discomfort.

jake had realized that it’s been nearly 6 months since he had a taste of the red liquid that kept him alive. he had been feasting as if he were human and could live off of normal meals. but he should have known that wasn’t the case. he thought he could handle it— pretend to be human. but now his control was slipping.

jake swallowed hard, stepping back from your touch. “i’m fine.” he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction, and he couldn’t meet your eyes. he took another step back from you, sitting on the edge of your bed.

you could sense that something was wrong, a strange tension in the air. “jake.. what’s going on?”

he exhaled shakily, his facade crumbling. he didn’t want to tell you, but he knew he couldn’t keep this hidden much longer. not with the way your scent was overwhelming him, making his throat burn with need.

his hands rested beside him as he gripped the bedding, trying to calm himself down. he avoided any eye contact with you, scared that he’d immediately lose all self-control.

“baby, we don’t have go this party if you’re not feeling well—“

jake shook his head, forcing a smile that didn’t really reach his eyes, “no, i’m fine. i promised you we’d go.”

you hesitated, not at all convinced by his words. his body had relaxed a bit more but you could tell he was holding back on something, “are you sure, jake?”

jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i’ll be okay, babe, honestly. i just need a distraction.” he finally looked at you, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “you’ve been looking forward to this. don’t let me ruin it for you.”

you smiled softly, walking toward him to hold brush your hand against his cheek. “alright.. but i’m driving,” you said, grabbing the car keys from the dresser. “i’m not letting you behind the wheel when you look like you’re about to faint.”

jake chuckled slightly, but there was no argument. he followed you out of the bedroom, the tension between you both still lingering. you hoped the party would actually distract him, seeing as you had a feeling that there was something he wasn’t telling you.

as you made your way to the car, you glanced at him, seeing the way his jaw clenched. he seemed so distant and you couldn’t help but worry about what the night would bring.

you both arrived at the party’s venue— a large but old mansion decked out with eerie decorations. pumpkins were scattered across the yard while cobwebs covered the corners of the porch. the sound of laughter and music was heard from the open doors of the house.

you turned the car off, sitting there for a moment before getting out. you wanted to ask jake what was really on his mind or what was bothering him.

“baby,” you called for him but no answer. he was distracted and looking at whatever was going on outside the passenger window.

“jaeyun.” your hand touched his arm this time, catching his attention. he hummed in response, turning his head to face forward now.

you shuffled closer to him, your chest pressed against the side of him.

“you know you can talk to me right?”

instead of answering, he sighed, lowering his head. if you kept asking about what was bothering him, he’d have no choice but to tell you. he hated keeping things from you especially because he knew you only wanted him to feel better and you wanted the best for him.

you leaned in to press soft kisses along his jaw, making him exhale softly. your hand made its way to his chin, turning his head so he was facing you.

you pecked his lips a couple of times before pulling away slightly to look him the eyes. they seemed darker tonight, the usual spark in them looked like it had disappeared.

"jaeyun, i mean it," you whispered against his skin. "if you're not feeling up to this, we don't have to go in. we can just head home, or even sit here for a while. i just want you to be okay."

jake closed his eyes briefly, his hand slipping down to rest on your thigh. his grip was firmer than usual, as if grounding himself with your touch. he wanted to tell you, wanted to explain the storm that was building inside him-but the words wouldn't come. not yet.

"i'm fine, really," he finally said, though even you could hear the strain in his voice.

"alright," you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear.

"but if at any point you're feeling worse, we'll leave, okay?"

jake nodded, though you noticed the way his fingers twitched against your leg.

with that, you both stepped out of the car. the cool night air hit you immediately, the atmosphere of the party drawing you in as you made your way toward the mansion. you could hear the music more clearly now, and the sounds of people laughing and talking grew louder with every step. the porch creaked slightly underfoot as you climbed the stairs, and the glow of jack-o'-lanterns flickered in the dim light, casting long shadows across the yard.

jake walked beside you, quieter than usual. you glanced at him, still feeling that nagging worry tugging at your chest, but you didn't press him any further. not yet.

“hey, you made it!” one of your friends called out from the entrance, waving excitedly as you and jake made your way inside. you returned the wave, feeling a little lighter now that you were here.

the inside of the mansion was just as lively. the grand ballroom was filled with people dancing, their costumes a blur of color under the dim, spooky lighting. fake bats and skeletons hung from the chandeliers, and fog machines pumped mist across the floor, creating an eerie, dreamlike atmosphere.

you turned to jake, who was scanning the room, his eyes darting from person to person. you noticed the way his jaw clenched again, the same tension from earlier creeping back into his posture.

“you okay?” you asked, touching his arm.

“yeah, just… a lot of people,” he muttered, his voice tight.

you frowned, your concern growing. he usually loved being around crowds, but tonight, he seemed different—on edge.

“why don’t we grab a drink?” you suggested, hoping to distract him. “maybe that’ll help.”

jake hesitated, his eyes still fixed on the crowd, but eventually nodded. “yeah. sure.”

you led the way to the drink table, but as you walked through the sea of partygoers, you noticed the way he kept glancing around, making you think he was looking for something—or someone.

you both made your way through the crowd after getting drinks, but something about jake’s energy felt off. he was quieter than usual, not fully engaging with anyone who greeted him, his hand gripping yours just a little too tightly. every so often, you caught him looking around, almost like he was on edge, but when you asked him if everything was okay, he brushed it off with a forced smile.

“i’m fine, i’m okay” he would say, but you weren’t convinced.

the party went on for a while, but jake grew more distant with every passing minute. eventually, you both decided to leave early, the fun of the night overshadowed by jake’s strange behavior. he seemed relieved as you left the venue, though the tension between you still lingered.

when you arrived home, the atmosphere had shifted again. jake seemed distracted, his body tense as if he was trying to hold something back. you went into the kitchen to grab a snack, thinking over the night’s events.

as you were cutting up your fruit for a late snack, a sharp pain ran across your finger as you sliced it while using the kitchen knife. you hissed, dropping the knife as you instinctively pressed your other hand to the cut.

“damnit,” you muttered, holding your hand under the sink to clean it. as you did, you noticed jake’s sudden stillness. he hadn’t moved from his spot in the doorway, his eyes locked on your hand.

his gaze was fixated on the small trail of blood now dripping from your hand, his breathing heavier than before.

“it’s just a cut,” you said softly, noticing the strange look in his eyes. but as you stepped toward him, his expression darkened, a hunger creeping into his features that made your heart skip a beat.

“you should… get that cleaned up,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “i’ll get the bandages.” he said, but his eyes never left your finger.

but before you could move, jake was suddenly closer to you, his body tense and his breathing ragged as if he was fighting against something. you could feel the heat of his presence, the way his eyes darkened as he watched the blood still pooling at your fingertip.

“jake, what’s really going on?” you asked, your voice soft but filled with concern. “you’ve been acting strange all night..”

he hesitated, his jaw clenched, but you could see the struggle in his eyes.

he wanted to pull away, but he leaned in instead, his nose brushing against your skin as he inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut. “your blood.. the smell is driving me insane.”

your breath caught in your throat. “..what does that mean?”

he swallowed hard, his eyes dark and filled with a hunger you’d never seen before. “i haven’t fed in months, y/n,” he confessed, his voice raw. “i tried to stay away from it, i swear.“

you stared at him, the weight of his confession settling over you like a heavy fog. “you… you’re a—?” the words felt foreign on your tongue, but jake’s pained expression told you everything you needed to know.

he nodded slowly, stepping back as if ashamed. “i didn’t want you to find out like this. i’m so sorry.”

you were quiet for a moment, processing everything. then, despite the fear and the shock coursing through you, you made a decision. “then take it.”

jake’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “w-what?”

“my blood,” you said, your voice steady even though your heart was racing. “if you need it, then take it. i trust you.”

jake shook his head. “baby, you know i can’t do that. i don’t wanna hurt you..”

“you won’t,” you whispered, moving back until you were pressed against the door, his body hovering over yours. “i know you won’t. i trust you, jake.”

his eyes searched yours, desperate and conflicted, but the hunger was too strong to resist. with a shuddering breath, he leaned in, his hands holding the sides of your neck as his lips brushed against the skin.. “tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

you shook your head, breath shuttering as you tilted your head back. his arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer.

“bite me,” you whispered once more, your hands gripping his shoulders as you waited to feel that small pinch.

jake’s fangs elongated as he wasted no time sinking his teeth in you. you gasped softly, the feeling being a mix a pain and ecstasy.

a deep groan of relief escapes his lips, the satisfaction of finally feeding without blood overwhelming him. his grip tightened on your hips as he pulled you closer, nearly losing control (again).

jake pulled away before he could drink any more, his lips tinted red before his tongue darted out to clean it up. he pecked the bite mark, hoping it would soon feel better.

you clung to him, almost hypnotized by the feeling of his teeth against your skin. he looked in your eyes, chuckling at the dazed look you gave him.

“you okay, princess?” he asks as his hand brushed away the strands of your hair.

you nodded, way too distracted to even give him a verbal response.

“c-can you do that again?”

🖇️. @wonsdoll @mimismenu @yourssincerely-mimi @riribelle @nerdimoo @sngleehee @elysianiki — only accepting 40 people.

🝮. @k-films

[angelsuecult]

it ain’t me babe | s. crosby

Part 1 | Part 2

“i’m not the one you want, babe

i will only let you down”

warnings: none.

summary: you feel out of place at a wedding with Sidney, left wondering where your relationship is going.

request: We need Sid and younger girlfriend attending a wedding 👀 here realizing that maybe Sid should see other people angsty slow burn fluff smut maybe?

word count: 7.7k

song: it ain’t me - joan baez

a/n: WHY DID NONE OF YOU TELL ME MY STORIES WEREN’T UPLOADING TO SCHEDULE?? And to the original author of the question please don’t hesitate to reach out if you hate it and would like a different approach!

Part 1 | Part 2

—

You’re barely fastening the clasp of your earring when the knock comes at your door.

Shit.

You glance at the time—Sid’s early. Of course, he is. The man knows you too well, knows you’d be running around last-minute, half-dressed and cursing yourself for not getting ready sooner. He does this on purpose, you swear.

“Hang on!” you call, stepping into your heels and padding toward the door. You take a second to smooth your dress down, inhaling to collect yourself before pulling it open.

And there he is.

Sidney Crosby in a suit has always been a dangerous thing, but this? Slate-gray with that slight blue undertone, crisp white shirt underneath, tie done just right. He wears it like it’s nothing, like he didn’t just knock the breath out of you for a second. The broad set of his shoulders fills your doorway, his stance easy but composed. You know his tailor probably had to fight with him to get the fit just right because God forbid Sidney spends a second longer than necessary picking out clothes.

His eyes flick over you, a slow, deliberate once-over. “Damn.”

You smirk, tilting your head. “That good?”

“That bad,” he corrects, stepping in slightly. His voice is low, edged with something appreciative. “You tryin’ to kill me?”

You roll your eyes, but heat creeps up your neck anyway. “You clean up alright, I guess.”

Sid scoffs, shoving his hands into his pockets as he gives you a pointed look. “Yeah? That the best I’m getting?”

You bite your lip, letting your gaze flicker over him. “Fine. You look—decent.”

His brows raise.

“Passable,” you add.

“You’re full of shit,” he mutters, stepping into your apartment fully now, shutting the door behind him. His eyes don’t leave yours, but his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to grin. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“Oh, pretty, huh?” you tease. “Not stunning? Not breathtaking?”

Sid exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You want a fuckin’ essay or somethin’? You look unreal, babe.” He leans in, voice dropping slightly. “Like I’m about to forget we have somewhere to be.”

You roll your eyes again, but your stomach flips. “Please. You’re so punctual, you’d probably have sex with me and still get us there early.”

That gets a laugh out of him, warm and low. “Multitasking’s a skill, y’know.”

You shake your head, turning to grab your clutch from the counter. “Alright, Romeo. Let me just—”

You pause, sighing. The clasp on your necklace is giving you a hard time, and your nails aren’t helping. You feel Sid behind you before he even says anything, his presence steady and familiar.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, hands brushing against your shoulders as he takes over. His fingers are warm against your skin, careful as he fastens it for you.

You exhale. “Thanks.”

Sid doesn’t step away immediately. He lets his fingers drift lightly over your collarbone, tracing the chain before dipping lower, just slightly. His voice is casual, but you hear the edge of amusement in it when he murmurs, “You smell good.”

You smile, resisting the urge to lean back into him. “You always say that.”

“’Cause it’s true.” His lips brush against the side of your neck, and you can feel his smirk. “What is it?”

“Same one I always wear.”

“Then why does it smell better tonight?”

You laugh, finally turning to face him. “Maybe I put on extra just for you.”

Sid grins, hands settling lightly at your waist. “Mm. Thought so.”

You press your hands against his chest, the fabric of his suit smooth under your palms. “Alright, Crosby. We should go before you get too distracted.”

He smirks but steps back, reaching for the door. “You sayin’ I don’t have self-control?”

“I’m saying you’re full of shit.”

Sid just laughs, waiting for you to step out before locking up behind you.

And he leads you outside, his hand firm and familiar on your lower back as he walks you toward the car. The air is cool, but you barely feel it with the heat of him so close.

He gets to the passenger side first, opening the door like a gentleman—except the cocky smirk on his face ruins the moment entirely.

"Look at me, such a gentleman," he says, voice dripping with self-satisfaction.

You snort, stepping past him to get in. "I was just about to say that. So chivalrous, Sidney. I’m swooning." He lets out a laugh, standing just behind you as you gather the fabric of your dress so it doesn’t catch.

"C’mon princess, in you go," he says, voice laced with amusement.

You give him a look as you settle into the seat. "I can get in a car by myself, you know."

"Sure you can," Sid smirks and leans down, one hand bracing the top of the door as he watches you adjust yourself. "But then I wouldn’t get to stare at your ass while you do it."

You scoff, swatting at his chest. "Jesus, Sid. Buy me a drink first."

"First of all, you love it. Second, you don’t even like the drinks at these things," he says easily, eyes glinting. Then he leans down a little further, dropping his voice. "And third, you know I’m right."

Your face heats, but you roll your eyes as you grab the seatbelt. "Unbelievable."

He laughs, shaking his head as he steps back and shuts the door. You watch as he rounds the car, taking his time, looking unfairly good while doing it. When he slides into the driver’s seat, he throws you a look—one of those easy, amused ones, where his mouth quirks up like you’re the most entertaining thing in his world.

“You always get this high maintenance before you go anywhere, or am I just lucky?”

“Oh, it’s just for you, baby,” you say sweetly.

You buckle up, getting comfortable, and then—instinctively, automatically—you reach for the radio.

Sid groans before you even touch it. "Babe."

You don’t even look at him, flipping through stations like it’s your goddamn job. "What?"

"You do this every time."

"And?"

"And—" He gestures vaguely, exasperated. "You’re not gonna find anything you like."

"You don’t know that," you argue, still pressing buttons, your face drawn in concentration.

Sid rests his elbow against the center console, watching you with an amused kind of annoyance. "You’re gonna cycle through, sigh dramatically, and then just plug in your phone like you always do."

You shoot him a look. "Not true."

He raises a brow. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Alright." He leans back, hands on the wheel, clearly settling in. "Go ahead, sweetheart. Take your time. I’ll just sit here, suffering."

"You’re so dramatic," you mutter, still clicking through static and commercials.

Sid just hums, watching in silence. You flip through three more stations before you sigh—dramatically, because fine, maybe he was right. You pull out your phone, scrolling through your playlists.

Sid laughs, loud and triumphant. "See? What did I fucking say?"

You huff, clicking on a song. "Shut up."

"You’re so predictable."

"You’re so annoying."

Sid just smirks, squeezing your thigh before pulling out of the parking spot.

You let the music fill the space, settling into the ride, before you reach up, flipping down the visor mirror. You check your reflection, tilting your head, adjusting an earring that doesn’t actually need adjusting.

Sid glances over. "Oh my god."

"What?" You swipe under your eye, checking for smudged mascara.

"Baby, you look fine."

"I just wanna make sure."

"You spent two hours getting ready."

"Yeah, and?"

"And—" He gestures vaguely again, exasperated. "You’re already fucking perfect. Stop fussing."

“Well, I need to make sure I stay perfect,” you say, adjusting your hair. “Can’t have people thinking you settled.”

Sid barks out a laugh. “Settled? Jesus, babe, I could show up to this thing in a fucking clown suit and people would still think I outkicked my coverage.”

You snort, capping your lipstick and tossing it into your clutch.

Which, speaking of—

Sid watches, shaking his head. "You carrying bricks in there?"

"It’s essentials."

"You don’t need all that shit."

You glance at him. "You questioning my process?"

"Absolutely."

You scoff. “It’s not that bad.”

Sid leans back in his seat, smirking. "Go on, then. Let’s see what you’ve got in there."

You narrow your eyes, but you humor him, setting your bag open on your lap and narrating as you pull things out one by one.

"Phone," you start, setting it aside. "Lipstick. Powder. Rings—"

"Why are your rings in there?"

"Because I didn’t feel like putting them on before I left, obviously," you say, slipping them onto your fingers now.

Sid shakes his head, grinning. "You’re something else."

You keep going. "Hair tie. Gum. Mini perfume, just in case—"

"In case of what? A body odor emergency?"

You ignore him. "Tampon."

Sid lets out a strangled laugh. "Well, that’s a buzzkill."

"You wish it was a buzzkill," you say, shoving it back into your clutch.

He smirks. "I do love an insurance policy."

You snort, giving him a playful shove before going back to your bag. "What else? Oh, mints."

"Why gum and mints?"

"In case I change my mind!"

Sid just shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as you continue your inventory.

Finally, you zip your clutch shut and sit back, satisfied.

Sid glances at you, amused. "You good now? Got everything?"

You exhale, nodding. "Yeah. I think I’m good."

"Thank fuck," he says dramatically, throwing the car into drive.

You smack his arm, and he just laughs, shooting you a look as he pulls out onto the road.

"You love me," you remind him.

He grins, squeezing your thigh again.

"Yeah, yeah. Lucky me."

It takes about thirty minutes to get there. And, like a true gentleman, Sidney helps you out of the car and into the venue.

And it is stunning. High ceilings draped with soft white fabric, chandeliers casting a warm golden glow, round tables set with crisp white linens and floral centerpieces so perfect they look straight out of a magazine. There’s a soft hum of conversation, glasses clinking, and occasional bursts of laughter. A string quartet plays softly in the background. It’s the kind of wedding that is effortless in its elegance, the kind of wedding where you don’t just attend—you experience it.

Sid steps up right beside you, his hand tightens around yours as you take it all in. “Nice place, huh?”

You nod. It is nice—really nice.

And then, like clockwork, it begins.

“Crosby!”

A voice calls out from across the room, and before you can even register who it belongs to, Sidney is already flashing a grin, lifting a hand in an easy wave.

A guy you don’t recognize claps Sid on the back, grinning wide. You barely have a second to register his face before another man steps in, another handshake, another enthusiastic greeting.

Sid is swept up so seamlessly it’s like muscle memory for him. A laugh here, a nod there, a quick remark that makes the whole group erupt in laughter. You smile politely as introductions are made, shaking hands, exchanging names that you instantly forget.

And just like that, he’s gone. Not physically—Sidney’s still right beside you—but it’s like he’s already been swept into a current, drawn into a world that, despite standing right here, you aren’t really a part of.

You feel the exact moment Sid drops your hand. It’s not intentional, not cruel, just... mindless. Which somehow feels worse. And you’re introduced a couple of times—Sid’s younger girlfriend, the polite smiles, the pleasant nods.

Though you're sure they won’t remember your name.

Not when they’re too busy swapping stories, reliving old memories, throwing easy, teasing jabs at Sid—

“Christ, still single? What the hell, man?”

“You holding out on us, or what?”

“No wife, no kids, just hockey, huh?”

And Sid laughs because of course he does. He takes it in stride, throws a few chirps back, and makes them laugh even harder.

You stand there, hands wrapped around your clutch, a smile fixed in place.

Then, without so much as a glance in your direction, Sidney gently nudges you toward the reception area. “Why don’t you go find our table, baby. I’ll be there soon.”

It’s so thoughtless, so effortless, the way he says it. Like he doesn’t even think twice about sending you on your way.

And you? You don’t argue. You don’t tell him you’d rather stay by his side, that you’d rather be included. Because what would be the point?

So you go.

Your heels click against the floors as you weave through the crowd, offering polite nods and small smiles when necessary. People acknowledge you, but only in passing.

A couple at the bar glances your way, the woman offering a smile before turning back to her conversation. An older man—someone’s father, maybe—nods at you as you pass. Another woman, somewhere in her thirties, gives you a glance before returning to her drink.

No one stops you. No one pulls you into a conversation.

Because, to them, you’re just Sidney’s girlfriend.

Not someone with stories of their own, not someone with history or shared memories. No career in hockey so that automatically means your input isn’t welcome. Just the young woman on Sidney Crosby’s arm.

You find your table near the edge of the dance floor. It’s beautifully set—crystal glassware, gold-rimmed plates, a small handwritten place card with your name in elegant script.

But even as you lower yourself into your seat, smoothing the fabric of your dress over your lap, you feel the same lingering disconnect.

Sid is still across the room, engaged in yet another conversation. And then another. And another. And the others at your table have yet to acknowledge your presence.

It happens over and over again.

Someone calls his name, he turns, he smiles. A handshake, a laugh, a knowing nod. The conversations blend together—hockey stories, old teammates, friendly jabs about how he’s still at it, still playing, still single, still Sidney Crosby.

And maybe it’s the wedding, or the company, or the way he’s been effortlessly navigating the room while you’ve been left sitting alone even at a table full of people—but something tightens in your chest.

You take a sip of water, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of your own presence here.

Sid is still talking, still laughing. The people around him are engaged, captivated, drawn in by whatever story is being told.

And you?

You’re just… there.

And just like that, the night drags on.

One hour turns into two. Two turn into three.

In that time, you’ve hardly spoken a word.

You’re still here. Alone.

Still at this table, a glass of champagne untouched, half-eaten food sitting cold on your plate, the candle in the center of the table burning lower and lower.

Laughter, the tinkling of glasses, the low sound of music mingling with conversation. Time moves in a strange way here–too fast in some ways, too slow in others.

Sid’s still across the room. Different circle, same conversation. Or maybe it’s a new one. Maybe it’s the fifth or sixth or tenth. You’ve lost count. But he looks so at ease, so comfortable, like he belongs here in a way you never will. And as much as you love him, as much as you want to believe that you can fit in his world, moments like this make you wonder if that's even possible.

You’re pretty sure you could vanish from this chair and no one would bat an eye.

The first hour wasn’t so bad. You kept yourself occupied, playing with your utensils, checking your phone, sipping at your drink.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he dropped your hand. It might’ve been thoughtless, but that made all the difference.

The second hour was harder. You started feeling it then, the weight of being left with no one to talk to, especially because Sidney hadn’t joined the table for dinner.

Now? Now, you’re just here.

You haven’t spoken to Sidney since you arrived together. The others at your table are talking amongst themselves.

And you? Well you drum your fingers against the table, eyes scanning the room. The dance floor is packed now, couples swaying under dim lighting, some moving a little too slow for the tempo of the song. It’s romantic, in a way.

You love dancing at weddings, and well–Sidney’s far too busy entertaining his hockey groupies. Maybe you should ask that old guy sitting alone at the bar.

You wonder if Sid even knows what time it is.

You hear the sound of someone sitting down at your table. You look up, and a woman in her mid-40s, with perfectly styled hair and a glass of wine in hand, meets your eyes with a bright, curious smile.

“I hear you’re Sidney’s date tonight,” she says, her tone light but carrying that tone of curiosity.

You smile politely, already bracing yourself for the inevitable questions. “Yeah, that’s right.”

She exhales a soft laugh, something like intrigue flickering in her expression. “Wow. How old are you honey?”

The bluntness catches you off guard, but you force a smile. “Uh, twenty-four.”

“Oh!” Her eyes widen, and her hand briefly touches her chest, as if you’ve just told her you’re fresh out of high school. “What a surprise.”

You give a tight-lipped smile, unsure of how to respond. It’s not the first time someone’s commented on the age difference between you and Sid, and it probably won’t be the last. Still, the way she’s looking at you, like you’re some kind of curiosity, makes your skin prickle.

Before you can say anything else, a few other women, all in similar age brackets as the first, drift over to join the conversation. They greet the first woman warmly before turning their attention to you. Their eyes rake over you with thinly veiled interest, and you can already tell where this is headed.

“So,” one of them says, her tone laced with curiosity. “You’re Sidney’s date?”

“That’s what I just said,” the first woman replies with a knowing grin.

You nod, trying to keep your smile polite and neutral. “Yeah, I am.”

“Well, aren’t you a lucky girl,” one of the women comments, her tone a little too sweet. “I mean, Sidney Crosby! He’s, what, 35 now?”

You nod again, not really sure what to say. “Yeah, he just turned 35.”

Another woman, a blonde with sharp cheekbones and a diamond necklace that looks expensive enough to buy a house, lets out a soft laugh. “He’s practically a national treasure. I bet people just lose their minds when they see you two together.”

You smile, hoping the conversation stays at least somewhat friendly, but there’s a strange tension building that you can’t quite place.

One of the women, a brunette in a dress that clings to her figure, gives you a long, appraising look. “You know,” she says with a smirk, “you remind me of that movie with Richard Gere and the fiery redhead. What’s it called? Pretty Woman?”

Your brows knit together. “Oh, you think I look like Julia Roberts?”

She smiles, like you’re adorable. “You could say that. But I was thinking more about the other thing.”

You blink, the implication sinking in.

Oh.

Oh.

Your stomach twists.

The first woman giggles, catching on. “God, that’s awful,” she says, but she’s laughing like it’s not.

“I mean,” the blonde continues, swirling her drink, “it’s not that different, right? Gorgeous younger woman, powerful older guy…”

The third woman smirks. “Except in this version, the guy’s a hockey player instead of a businessman.”

“And he didn’t have to pay for her company,” the first woman adds with a giggle.

You laugh, because what the fuck else are you supposed to do? You laugh, because it’s easier than acknowledging the weight of their words, the way their comments slide under your skin like cold, sharp needles.

“Oh, come on,” the blonde says, nudging your arm. “You’re not offended, are you?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “No, it’s funny.”

She smiles, satisfied, then takes a slow sip of her champagne.

The brunette lets out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Don’t take it the wrong way, sweetheart. It’s just that, well… you’re so young. Practically a baby. And Sidney? He’s… well, let’s just say it’s obvious why he’s with you.”

You try to laugh it off, but it sounds forced even to your own ears. “Right…”

One of the other women pipes up with a teasing grin. “Midlife crisis, right? Every man gets one eventually. They just want something young and fresh to keep them feeling young, you know?”

The second woman snorts. “Guess it was either a sports car or a twenty-four-year-old.”

“Well,” the third woman muses, tapping a finger to her chin. “A sports car probably wouldn’t keep him warm at night.”

You laugh again, though it feels hollow in your chest.

“Oh, come on, now,” the blonde chimes in again, clearly having fun with the way you’re squirming. “We’re just teasing. But really, how long have you been with Sid? A couple months? Bet he’s just swept you off your feet, huh?”

You open your mouth to answer, but one of the women cuts you off with a snicker. “Oh, I bet he has. Must be nice to have a guy like that, huh? With all that stamina...”

“God,” one of them says with a chuckle, giving you a once-over. “You are young. How long have you and Sid been together, really?”

“Over a year.”

“Over a year?” The other one lets out a low whistle. “Wow, that’s impressive. And you’re already sitting through one of these things? You must be committed.”

“Oh, come on, ladies. I think it’s sweet,” one of them drawls, swirling her wine. “Older men love a hot young thing on their arm. Keeps ’em feeling young.”

“Yeah, but at what point does it get sad? Like, at what age does it start looking more ‘divorced dad’ than ‘hot older guy’?”

“Probably when she graduates college.”

The laughter rolls through the group again, light and airy.

You hum, taking a slow sip of champagne. Though it tastes a little sour now.

“Besides,” another adds, smirking, “I bet Sid loves having someone so...energetic in bed.”

The table howls.

And fuck, you laugh, too, even though it feels more than wrong.

You feel raw, exposed, like they’ve pinned you down and picked you apart piece by piece, all while smiling, all while meaning nothing by it.

And maybe that’s the worst part.

They don’t even realize how shitty it is.

It’s not that the jokes are vicious.

It’s just that they’re at your expense.

And you let them be.

And Sid—Sid doesn’t even know. Why would he?

He’s still across the room, caught up in conversation, in familiarity, in a place that has always been his, while you sit here, drinking shitty champagne and wondering how the hell you ended up feeling this alone at a table full of people.

It's not his job to babysit you, though, is it? But would it have killed him to talk to you outside of dismissing you from his conversation? Or to sit and eat dinner with you? To ask if you wanted a drink. Or even to ask you to dance? Maybe that's why you feel so out of place. This isn’t your world; it’s Sidney’s, and that's perfectly fine. But would it be too much to ask for your date to spend a measly second with you?

Eventually, you slip out of the reception hall unnoticed.

No one calls after you, no one asks where you’re going.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

The air is cooler here, quieter, the distant hum of conversation and music muffled by the thick walls of the venue.

You don’t have a destination in mind, just an aimless need to be somewhere else—somewhere not at that table, smiling through another round of backhanded jokes and polite pleasantries.

And you find yourself in front of the coat check, a long bench against the wall offering a lonely place to sit.

You sink down onto it with a sigh, letting your head tilt back against the wall.

It’s fine.

It’s fine.

The night’s almost over, anyway.

Right?

It’s been four—five?—hours. Who’s counting?

You tug your phone out of your clutch and check the time. Yeah. Five hours.

Jesus.

“You heading out?”

Blinking, you turn toward the coat check counter, where a young guy—early twenties, maybe—leans against the ledge. He’s got a tie loosely knotted around his neck, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a clipboard in hand. His name tag, slightly askew, reads Ethan.

“Not yet. No.”

He raises a brow, shifting his weight against the counter. “Just hanging out by the coat closet for fun, then?”

You smile, tapping your fingers against your knee. “I’m hoping my date will come looking for me, realize I’m gone, and we’ll head out.” You sigh dramatically. “Maybe in an hour or two.”

The guy snorts. “Damn. That bad, huh?”

You raise a brow. “Eh. It’s fine. You work a lot of weddings?”

“More than I can count.” He taps the clipboard against his palm. “Seen it all. Drunken speeches, fistfights, groomsmen throwing up in planters. You name it.”

You snort. “Sounds like a fun gig.”

“Oh, tons of fun,” he deadpans. “Nothing like watching a mother-in-law cry because she hates the centerpieces.”

You shake your head, lips curving.

“So,” he continues, cocking his head, “you on the bride’s side or groom’s side?”

“Neither,” you admit. “I’m a plus-one.”

“Ah. Who’s your date?”

“He’s an ex-teammate of the groom.”

He lets out a low whistle. “So, basically, everyone in there’s a hockey player.”

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

He leans his forearms on the counter, looking amused. “Failed, retired, or current?”

You grin. “All of the above.”

His eyes narrow playfully. “You’re not a hockey player, though.”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

He gives you a once-over. “Yeah, you don’t have the vibe. Too put-together. And you still have all your teeth.”

You laugh, genuinely this time.

He studies you for a beat. “So how’s your night been?”

You open your mouth to say fine, but what comes out instead is—

“Well, I just got called a hooker and a midlife crisis in one sitting, so.”

Ethan chokes. “Jesus Christ.”

You shrug.

“Who the hell’s your date?” he asks again, eyes narrowing. “Because he sounds like he fucking sucks at his job.”

You glance toward the closed doors of the reception, then back at him. “Sidney Crosby.”

Ethan stares at you. Then he exhales a laugh, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, there you have it,” he says. “Old as dirt Sidney with a… how old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

He raises his brows. “Eh. Not that bad.”

You huff. “Glad to hear it.”

“If it makes you feel better,” he adds, propping his chin on his hand, “I’ve already had to stop three drunk couples from trying to sneak into the coat closet to fuck.”

You lift a brow. “Three?”

He nods solemnly. “One of them was definitely old enough to be my parents.”

You grimace. “Christ.”

“Exactly.” He shakes his head. “So, really, your night could be worse.”

You smirk, tilting your head. “You mean I could be fucking in the coat closet?”

He grins. “See? Silver linings.”

You roll your eyes, stretching your legs out in front of you, smoothing your hands over your dress as you glance toward the coat check counter.

“So,” you say, tilting your head, “is this, like, your full-time gig?”

He shakes his head, adjusting his headset. “Nah. Just part-time. Helps pay for school.”

You perk up. “Ohh. College student.” A slow grin spreads across your lips. “You’re just a baby.”

His mouth drops open slightly before he lets out a scoff. “I’m 22, not 2.”

You hold up your hands in mock surrender, biting back a laugh. “Relax, kid.”

He points a finger at you. “You’re not even that much older than me.”

You pretend to be deep in thought. “Mmm. You say that, but I’m practically ancient in your eyes. What are 24-year-olds to you? Fossils?”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. If you’re a fossil, then Sidney Crosby is—”

“A museum exhibit,” you finish, nodding solemnly.

He grins. “Exactly. So, you're not that much older than me, then.”

You wave a dismissive hand. “In college years, two years is a lot. You’re still in that phase where you think mixing vodka with Gatorade is a good idea.”

He raises a brow. “And what phase are you in?”

You hum, pretending to think about it. “The phase where I know mixing vodka with Gatorade is only a good idea if you’ve got nothing else left in the fridge.”

He leans against the counter, shaking his head. “Jesus man, twenty-four and thirty-five is wild. That’s, like…” He pauses, pretending to do the math in his head. “That’s a whole thirteen years.”

Your mouth twitches. “11 actually. Solid math skills. College is treating you well, huh?”

He grins. “Damn right.” Then, after a beat, “So, what’s it like? Dating an elderly man?”

You snort. “Honestly? Kind of nice. Early bedtimes. Dinner at four-thirty. Always has Werther’s Originals in his pocket.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “No fucking way.”

You shrug, completely deadpan. “No point lying about it. Just last week he was complaining about his knees. His knees.”

He wipes a fake tear from his eye. “Unreal.”

You sigh dramatically. “The burden of dating an aging athlete.”

He grins. “You’re a real one for sticking around.”

You smirk. “Someone’s gotta help him up the stairs.”

“Someone’s gotta help him out of bed.”

You tilt your head. “You joke, but honestly, have you ever seen a hockey player wake up in the morning? It’s like watching an old dog stretch. Takes him, like, five whole minutes to fully stand up straight.”

He’s full-on wheezing now. “Please.”

You hold up a hand. “Swear to God. You know that snap, crackle, pop sound Rice Krispies make?”

He nods, barely holding it together.

“That’s Sidney every morning.”

That’s it. He loses it completely, practically doubled over laughing. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps.

“Anyway, now that we’ve established that I’m a grown-ass man, wanna guess what I’m studying?”

You tap a finger against your chin, pretending to consider. “Hmm. Something in hospitality? Customer service? You seem way too unbothered for someone who has to deal with drunk rich people all night.”

“Business,” he says, then makes a face. “I know. Riveting.”

You shrug. “Hey, business is important. You could be running this whole venue one day.”

“Yeah, or scamming people on Wall Street.”

“Oh, so that’s the real plan.”

He taps his nose knowingly. “Gotta make that coat check money stretch.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t know, seems like a good ideas. You would get to people-watch, make fun of drunk wedding guests, witness some truly awful flirting…”

“Break up couples fucking in the coat closet,” he adds.

You grin. “Right, that too, you already have the experience.”

“It’s alright,” he admits.

You hum in acknowledgment.

“But I actually wanna do something cool with it, I swear.”

“Uh-huh.” You tilt your head. “Like what?”

He shrugs. “I wanna open my own bar. Something, like, good, though. Classy. Not just some sticky-floored shithole that only serves cheap beer and watered-down whiskey.”

You lift a brow. “So, you wanna open a fancy bar.”

He grins. “Yeah, but cool fancy. Not asshole fancy.”

You smirk. “Big dreams.”

He nods. “Huge.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Well, at least you’d be making an honest living. Can’t say the same for me, apparently.”

He winces. “Yeah, hey at least you’re escorting Sidney Crosby to weddings. Could be worse. Like some old scrub no one remembers.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Ha, ha.”

He smirks. “I mean, those people back there seemed pretty convinced.”

“Yeah, well, they can choke,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

He laughs. “Fair.”

You sigh dramatically. “If only I weren’t so well-behaved.”

He smirks. “If only you weren’t Sidney Crosby’s well-behaved girlfriend. Unlike some people at this wedding.”

You let out a sharp laugh, covering your mouth. “Jesus Christ.”

“What?” He grins, unbothered. “That’s what they think, right? You know, sell your body for some cash.”

You laugh.

He gestures at you. “See? This is a real conversation. None of that fake, rich-people bullshit in there.”

You exhale, nodding. “Yeah. It’s… nice.”

And it is. Really nice. It’s the most you’ve talked all night without feeling like you’re walking some social tightrope. No polite smiles, no fake laughs, no backhanded compliments. Just talking.

You’re just about to say something when Your phone buzzes on the bench beside you. You don’t rush to grab it, already having a pretty good guess at who it is.

Sid: You ready to head out?

You purse your lips, debating. Are you ready? Maybe. Do you care?

You: Up to you.

The typing bubble pops up almost immediately.

Sid: Where are you?

You glance up at the coat check counter, at your new best friend of the evening—who’s leaning against the back wall, scrolling idly on his phone.

You: Bathroom.

Technically, not a lie. Just… a creative interpretation of events.

Sid: Meet me at the coat desk?

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Oh, you mean the place I’ve been sitting for the past 45 minutes? What a coincidence.

Instead, you just type out a simple:

You: Sure.

“Ah,” he says knowingly. “Your date finally remembered you exist.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Yep. Miracles do happen.”

He holds a hand to his chest. “Wow. I’m so happy for you.”

You roll your eyes. “Ha, ha.” You glance around the empty hall before sighing. “Hate to cut the night short, but, y’know… duty calls.”

He nods solemnly. “Understandable. You’ll be missed.”

You smirk. “Hey, maybe one day I’ll get married here.” You gesture around dramatically. “And I’ll be sure to bring you back as my coat guy, since you’re doing such a stellar job at keeping away the drunks.”

He grins. “I’d be honored.”

You shake your head, glancing at your phone.

And then you wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Because of course, Sidney saying meet me at the coat desk actually means I will take my sweet-ass time getting there.

You lean against the counter, resisting the urge to check your phone again.

Another twenty minutes pass. Then ten more.

“You sure he’s coming?” Coat Guy teases.

You shoot him a look. “Shut up.”

“I mean, I could totally give you a ride home—”

You smirk. “Do you even have a car?”

“…I could get us an Uber.”

You let out a laugh tilting your head toward him. “You know, for someone who was in a rush to leave, he’s sure taking his time.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, he is old. Maybe he forgot where the coat desk is.”

“Fuck, you’re right. Should I go look for him? Maybe he got lost.”

“Probably wandering the halls like a confused grandpa.”

“Poor guy.”

“I know. Should I page him? ‘Sidney Crosby, please report to the coat check. Your much younger date is waiting for you.’”

You laugh. “God, please do.”

As if on cue, Sid finally rounds the corner, looking not the least bit rushed. He’s still got that stupid effortlessly charming thing going on, tie slightly loosened, jacket draped over his arm. He spots you immediately, his expression softening just a fraction.

“There you are.”

“Here I am,” you say dryly, standing up straighter.

Sid eyes you for a beat, like he can’t tell if you’re actually annoyed or just messing with him. You don’t exactly help him out, keeping your face as neutral as possible.

He turns his attention to the coat guy, nodding in greeting. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He gives him a knowing smirk but doesn’t say anything else.

Sid doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does but just doesn’t care. Either way, he turns back to you. “Got everything?”

You lift your clutch slightly. “Mhm.”

Sid nods, then slides his jacket back on, rolling his shoulders as he adjusts it. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah,” you say, not bothering to hide your exasperation.

Sid places a warm hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the exit. As you pass the desk, you shoot him a wink. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“I’ll try,” he says, grinning. “No promises, though.”

Sid glances between the two of you but doesn’t say anything. Just tightens his hand slightly against your back as he leads you out.

And just like that, you’re finally leaving.

Hours too late, but hey. Who’s counting?

Sid’s hand stays on your lower back as he leads you to the car. The night air is cool, but not unpleasant, and the walk is quiet. You don’t really reach for him. Don’t hold his arm or lace your fingers through his. You just hold onto your clutch, letting the silence settle between you. Sid doesn’t push it, just keeps his hand steady as he guides you toward the car.

The parking lot is mostly empty now, save for a few stragglers lingering near their cars, caught up in post-wedding conversations. Sid unlocks the car with a click of the key fob, and you both slide in without a word. The door shuts with a solid thunk.

Once inside, the radio hums softly in the background—some classic rock station Sid always defaults to. You don’t reach to change it this time. You just pull out your phone, scrolling for a moment before you open a text thread with a friend and start typing something, not thinking too hard about it.

You: If you ever get invited to a wedding full of ex-hockey players, politely decline.

Sid glances over at you before shifting the car into reverse, backing out of the spot. The drive starts off the same way the walk did—quiet. Not necessarily tense, just…muted. It’s been a long night, after all.

A couple of minutes in, Sid finally breaks the silence. “How was your night?”

You don’t look up from your phone. “Great.”

He waits a beat, like he’s expecting more. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, eyes still on your screen. “Food was a little dry, but no complaints.”

Sid hums. “Okay.”

The car falls back into silence, save for the steady sound of the tires against the pavement and the occasional change in song on the radio. You keep texting, your thumbs moving idly over the screen.

After a while, Sid speaks again. “Did you get to talk to anyone?”

You let out a short breath—almost a laugh. “Sort of.”

Sid glances at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “What does that mean?”

You set your phone down in your lap, finally looking over at him. “I mean, the three women who did talk to me were very funny.”

Sid frowns slightly. “Funny?”

You smile, but there’s no real warmth behind it. “Hilarious, actually.”

His fingers tighten around the wheel. “Okay…”

That’s the end of that conversation. Another stretch of silence. The wedding venue fades into the distance behind you, the city lights coming into view ahead.

A few more minutes pass before you shift slightly in your seat, looking out the window. “Hey, can you just take me home?”

Sid glances at you again, brows furrowing. “I thought we agreed you’d just come back to my place.”

You nod. “Yeah, we did. I just…kinda want to go home now.”

Sid’s grip on the wheel tightens just a fraction. “Why?”

You shrug. “I just want to sleep in my own bed.”

Sid exhales through his nose. “You like my bed.”

You nod again. “I do.”

“But you don’t want to sleep in it tonight?”

“Not really.”

Sid doesn’t respond right away. Just keeps driving, his expression unreadable. He’s confused, you can tell. The change of plans is throwing him off.

You pick at the hem of your dress. “It’s fine,” you say lightly. “We can just go back to your place and I’ll call an Uber to take me home.”

Sid lets out a small, humorless laugh. “I can take you home. It’s not a big deal.”

You look over at him. “Great.”

But it doesn’t feel great. It feels weird. Off.

Sid’s jaw flexes slightly as he makes a turn, the city lights casting shadows over his face. “Did something happen?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Sid doesn’t look convinced. “Then why are you acting weird?”

“I’m not acting weird.”

“You are acting weird.”

You sigh, leaning your head back against the seat. “I’m just tired, Sid. It’s been a long night.”

Sid exhales sharply. “Yeah, no shit.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, clearly confused. The tension in the car thickens, stretching between you like a tightrope. The night has been long—too long—and the last thing you want is to get into it with him right now.

But Sid doesn’t just let things go.

A few minutes pass before he speaks again, his voice edged with frustration. “You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we just gonna sit here pretending everything’s fine?”

Your fingers curl around the hem of your dress. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Sid lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah. Okay.”

You glance over at him, irritation creeping into your voice. “What do you want me to say, Sidney?”

“How about the truth?”

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “Jesus Christ.”

Sid shakes his head too, gripping the wheel tighter. “You were fine earlier. And now, all of a sudden, you wanna go home, and I have no fucking clue why.”

“Maybe I just want to sleep in my own bed for once.”

“That’s bullshit,” he mutters.

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

He rubs a hand over his jaw, voice tense. “You stay at my place all the time. You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

“Well, maybe tonight I do.”

Sid glances at you, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “So what happened?”

You look straight ahead, jaw tight.

Sid’s fingers tap against the wheel. “Jesus,” he mutters. “If you don’t wanna be here, just fucking say it.”

Your stomach twists. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what it feels like.”

You inhale slowly through your nose, trying to keep your temper in check. You’re both tired. You’re both irritated. And this is getting nowhere.

Finally, you exhale. “Just take me home, Sid.”

He presses his lips together, nods once, and changes lanes. The rest of the drive is silent, thick with unspoken words and unasked questions pressing in from all sides as Sid pulls up to your apartment building. The soft hum of the engine is the only sound between you. The streetlights cast a dull glow through the windshield, illuminating the set of his jaw, the furrow of his brows, and the way his fingers tap once against the steering wheel before stilling completely.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, pausing briefly before grabbing your purse from the floorboard. "Thanks for a great night," you say, voice light, almost distant.

Sid doesn't answer right away, just stares ahead at the dashboard, his lips pressing into a thin line.

You're already reaching for the door handle when he finally mutters, "Yeah."

You hesitate, gripping the strap of your purse a little tighter. But you don't look at him. You can't. Not when you’re already hanging by a thread.

So you just slip out of the car, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

No I love you.

No goodnight kiss.

Nothing.

Sid stays parked, his headlights illuminating the pavement in front of your building. You know he’s waiting. He always waits. Won’t leave until he sees the light in your apartment turn on. A silent reassurance that you made it inside safely.

You fish your keys out of your purse and make your way up the short set of stairs to your building entrance, the lump in your throat growing tighter with every step.

This is the right call.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

You unlock the door, step inside, and flick on the hallway light. A soft glow spills out onto the pavement outside.

You don’t have to turn around to know Sid is still there. Still watching.

You stand there for a second, fingers curling around the doorknob, waiting—listening.

Any second now, you’ll hear his car pull out of his usual parking spot.

Any second now.

But the street outside stays quiet.

Your chest tightens.

You could turn around. Walk back down the steps. Open the car door and say, Hey, sorry for being weird tonight, I just—

Just what?

You should’ve just talked it out with him. Should’ve let him in instead of shutting down. He deserves more than this. So, why do you feel like he did something wrong tonight?

You squeeze your eyes shut.

No.

You made your choice.

Maybe—maybe in some sick and twisted, selfish way, a break will be easier this way.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

Maybe if you make the distance now, if you start pulling away, it won’t hurt as much when you finally tell him what you’ve been feeling. That you’re not the one for him. That tonight made that painfully clear how you just don’t fit into his world. That you’re not the match you thought you were.

It’s not his fault. It’s just… how it is. And he deserves someone whose hand he won’t stupidly drop, whose presence he won’t carelessly dismiss.

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling a slow, shaky breath. Then another.

Still, you don’t hear the car move.

Dragging in a slow breath, you step further into your apartment and close the door behind you. Your throat tightens. You press your palm flat against the door, like you can feel the weight of him still out there, just on the other side.

Even then, you don’t hear Sid drive away.

You stay exactly where you are.

Listening. Waiting.

Hating yourself for hoping he doesn’t leave just yet.

—

[mikawa13]

Every time I look at fanarts of TID I have to take a deep breath because some of the clothes aren't completely period accurate, so I wanted to try to draw them with more accurate dresses.

Charlotte did not take as long as I expected, probably because I always imagined her style in a more simple and elegant style.

I used Cassandra Jean's design for the gear and tried to adjust it a bit following the Codex's information about older versions of the female gear having a skirt, but I just decided to make that padding around the abdomen and hips longer and simulate a skirt (but not too long to not reduce the mobility), whereas the male gear would be shorter and the way that Cassandra Jean did it.

RIP Charlotte, you would've loved jumpsuits QUEEN

(February 4, 2024)

Little Miss Barbie x Regina George (1878 Edition)

Jess was a bit more complicated because she does care about her appearance more and has a more intricate style. And normally I try to not add a lot of detail with Victorian characters because Queen Victoria didn't like makeup and found it vulgar, so women usually went for a natural look. Jessamine paints her dark circles whereas Charlotte naturally has them for obvious reasons. ☠️

Low-key, I loved doing Jessamine's ghost form.

And please let's not talk about my strange doodling attempt with the electrum lace design on the parasol. Halfway through it I started telling myself Henry is not a fashion designer and he tried his best to mimic a lace design with the electrum and hide some runes for her protection.

(February 13, 2024)

I will be honest, I struggled with the color of the dress because I do not imagine Cecily with a plain color dress, but not too intricate as Jessamine's. Everything looked too blue at first and I switched so many colors until it ended up like that. And don't get me started on the hair... It felt ✨WRONG✨ to give her a historically accurate hairstyle considering everyone gives her straight hair down.

So in my head her hair IS straight, she just has to appropriately wear it up. But nothing too complicated. And it's worth mentioning my memory is starting to blur out a lot. I had to check her wiki for the weapon and whatnot, and I found that she was petite and thin. In my head she was about Tessa's height. But I barely remember a lot from the books by now.

But I did try to make her look closely similar to Will. And I think she does look like a female, better, version of him. Also, if you're wondering why she's not wearing the necklace: I didn't realize I didn't add it until I finished coloring the dress and by that point I was so sick of it I left it like that. I had the sketch of the necklace, I just forgot to put it with the dress. 🫠

(March 2, 2024)

Gideon is so lucky. 😩

The suits might discourage me from doing the men because there's not really much difference aside of small details of how each man wears it. But anyway... Back to Sophie.

The damn maid dress. It's simple. It is ten times simpler than Jessamine's dress and YET I was struggling with it. And don't get me started on the scar.

The wiki said it was a big, silver, scar on the left side of her face from the corner of her mouth to her temple. I had an existential crisis trying to figure out how to do it, because in the other set ups of these drawings, I depict them like they're facing me, so the portrait wouldn't have shown the scar.

And it's a problem because I also suck at drawing scars. The first try looked fine but it wasn't silver, then I did this and in one part I guess it's fine because I didn't want to make a pretty scar when it's supposed to be bad and shocking for the time period. But a part of my brain thinks it looks like the fungus from The Last of Us. ☠️

Anyways. You may be wondering, "why didn't you do the Shadowhunter gear?" And it's a simple answer... I wanted to see her in a pretty dress. Of course, I could have done the portrait with the maid dress, the middle with her fancy dress, and the second full-body drawing with the gear but I didn't think about that until 10 minutes before posting. 🫠 And that gear is COMPLICATED (Not really, I'm just tired after the dresses).

(April 10, 2024)

If you are wondering why there is a huge time jump from the last fanart to this, I had a really bad art block and the frustration from the inaccurate dresses brought me back lol

Unfortunately I am currently in another slump 🫠

The next one was supposed to be Tessa but the dresses really frustrated me and I never even started the sketch. Idk if I'll ever finish it. I hope so, but don't get your hopes up.

[shomatoriashi]

01/06/25; 06:03pm

sylus x fem.reader | non.mc

obligatory tags: @voidsylus | @milkandstarlight

warnings: unedited; semi-public s-x.

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

the boutique located in the n109 zone that sylus had taken you to was surrounded by dozens of high class women; those who were born with a silver spoon in their hands. now, being an average woman, you didn’t get to experience the luxuries of such a life until much later (the moment you fell in love with sylus as he swore to give you not only his heart, but anything and everything you desired as well.)

which was why you were here to begin with. even as you browsed the cute trinkets and jewelry from the store, you could feel the clerk’s eyes glaring daggers into you. not only were you receiving dark looks, but all the other employees were actively ignoring you, choosing instead to sink their claws into your lover as their saccharine voice asked if he needed any help.

“no, i’m fine, but my girlfriend could use some assistance.”

you momentarily bask in their crestfallen expression, watching as they tossed aside their curled hair before marching over to you. you had not even spoken a single word when the catty employee leans in to harshly whisper in your ear, “sorry, but i believe these cute jewels are just way too expensive for the likes of you. after all, having you wear our brand would be such a disgrace.”

as swiftly as she came, she stomps away from you, her laughter echoing throughout the store as she went to gossip with her coworkers over what had just transpired. manicured nails point at you, as their hushed whispers openly mocked you as they spoke about how unfit you were to be with mr. sylus.

grateful that sylus was entirely focused on the contents of his phone, you decided to get a tiny bit of revenge by hatching an almost diabolical plan. instead of looking at the various rings and necklaces, you cling onto sylus’s arms and point toward the direction of the section that housed all of the lingeries.

“walk me over there?” you point a finger over at where the various lingeries were on display, watching as sylus’s eyebrows go up in amusement.

“my, i wanted to take you here in order to help treat yourself. i didn’t think that i would receive a treat as well, little dove.”

you tried to appear as innocuous as possible, jutting your lips out into a pretty pout as you pulled sylus along. “but of course, i’m always willing to spoil you, sy.”

with sylus practically following you around (like a lost puppy), you have him talk to the lady manning the fitting rooms, asking him to get a key for one of the rooms as you made your selection alone. giving you a chaste kiss, he obeys your command and leaves you to your own devices-

which was exactly what you wanted to happen.

your eyes scan the various lingeries, searching for the perfect one that would set sylus off-

and within mere minutes, you found one.

the material of the flimsy piece left little to the imagination, and you could just picture the way your perky nipples would strain against such pretty lace while wrapping the most intimate part of you in ribbons-

this is the one.

folding the lingerie, you head towards the fitting rooms, seeing sylus waiting for you as he handed you the key. blowing him a kiss, you sweetly ask him to wait for you before locking yourself into the single room. taking a moment to admire such a spacious area, you muse to yourself at how this place felt like a totally different world before getting to work. putting your purse aside, you hurriedly shimmy out of your clothes, making sure you were bare before sliding on the lingerie, feeling the silk fabric fit your form to perfection. admiring yourself in the mirror, you put on a fresh coat of lip gloss while fixing your hair-

ready for sylus to make his move.

you open the door, standing seductively against it while whispering sylus’s name. he looks away from his phone, meeting your sultry gaze as his eyes widened with shock. crimson irises were felt raking down your form, making you giggle.

“like what you see, sy?”

yet the onychinus leader doesn’t answer you, choosing instead to march into your fitting room while slamming the door shut. “do i like what i see? kitten, you are absolutely divine.” you feel the way his powerful hands wrap around your waist before picking you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as you felt the way his clothed erection strained against you-

making you break out into a grin when you realized you had him; hook, line, and sinker.

he presses his hot lips press against the base of your throat when he pins you against the wall, ready to slide off your lingerie when you stopped him. “no… i want to keep this pretty lace on, just for you, sy.”

a low growl escapes from sylus, and you felt him lower his large hand between your legs before moving the ribbons that cover your center off to the side. with a gasp, you felt his large finger slowly drive itself into your wet heat before making a pumping motion. “you’re driving me crazy, love.”

hiding his face within the curve of your neck, sylus continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, drawing out breathy moans that seemed to echo throughout the boutique. with your arms wrapped around his neck, you gently grind your cunt against his fingertips while whispering in his ear, “do i feel good, wrapped around your fingers like this?”

a broken groan was heard coming from sylus when he removed his now soaked fingers out of your core, licking them clean briefly before adjusting his hold on you. he presses your chest against the walls now, making you gasp when you heard the shifting of fabric coming from behind you.

even when you weren’t able to see him, you could feel him- the sensation of hot velvet pressing against your soaked cunt before slowly sheathing itself inside of you. your gasps quickly morph into moans when sylus began to pound his cock into you, literally fucking you into the wall.

“i’m so fucking obsessed with you.” his hot whispers were all you could hear, feeling sylus press lingering kisses against your damp skin. you felt each new angle of his cock slamming back into you, causing a new wave of pleasure to hit you each time as your walls eagerly take in every inch he had to offer.

somehow, you were able to find your voice, begging him to turn you around. “l-let me look at you, sy… i want to see you as i fall apart for you.”

a low hiss was heard as sylus bites down against the lobe of your ear, heeding your command when he hurriedly pulls out of you. the sudden loss of him causes you to sob in response, with sylus gripping at your waist before allowing your back to meet the wall once more. settling himself between your thighs, sylus doesn’t waste another second when he completely impales his cock back into you.

your legs wrapped themselves around his waist, coaxing your lover to go even deeper as you felt your breasts bounce with his every movement. not even caring that you were not alone while in the midst of this expensive boutique, you allow your moans and his grunts to echo throughout the space, your back arching when you felt the way your walls sweetly wrapped around sylus’s cock before milking him for all he was worth.

spurts of his seed were felt escaping your walls as they stained at the lace and ribbons of the lingerie, with sylus letting out a content grunt. his hips sloppily thrust into you, making sure he was completely emptied before resting his weight against your shoulder. by now, you were both panting, feeling the sweat run down your respective forms as sylus pressed a lingering kiss against your shoulder.

keeping your hips still, sylus gently pulls out of you, and you moan when you felt the evidence of your respective release further stain the lingerie. sylus takes a step back, admiring how he had completely wrecked you and the flimsy fabric with an appreciative hum. as he adjusts himself (placing his softened cock back into the confines of his boxers), you watch as he zips up his pants before gathering your crumpled clothes from the ground.

not even allowing you to remove the utterly ruined lingerie, sylus helps you put on your clothes while pocketing your panties. once your blouse was on, you watch as sylus shoves your bra into the confines of your purse, hands automatically going around your waist as he presses a lingering kiss on your temple.

“keep that purchase on you; i’ll pay for it as we walk out- i’m far from being done with you, kitten.”

unlocking the door to the fitting room, sylus grabs the key and his wallet, coming face to face with a now blushing woman that had a wide eyed gaze. he tosses a few bills at her as payment for your latest purchase all while giving your backside a firm smack!

as you both walk out of the boutique, you basked in everyone’s shocked expression (red face and all!) while showing them your own, victorious smile-

having the leader of onychinus as your lover meant that you would always have free reign to do whatever you wished to do (since everyone feared him and would never wish to go against him), and even if you weren’t born with the world given to you on a silver platter-

sylus was all too willing to fix that and make it a reality for you.

end notes: so i had a n a u g h t y daydream earlier and decided to make it a r e a l i t y… (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[star--stilinski]

Just thinking of stiles going “oh yeah?”

did you guys hear me moan just now say yes if you did

☆

you're play-fighting, an argument about nothing. but the conversation is turning, tilting, the room getting warmer. he's manspreading on the couch across from the loveseat you're perched in, both of you waiting on scott and liam while they do some stupid werewolf stuff. well, it's not stupid, but.

sometimes it is.

"you're not half as talented at figuring people out as you put on." you tilt your nose up and scoff. what prompted that? something something who's smarter than who something something. stiles has a look in his eyes, his pupils like predatory slits as he watches you. it makes you want to press more of his buttons, just to see. "you couldn't figure me out with a map and a flashlight."

his lips turn up cockily. "already have. i don't need any assistance."

you drop the facade, curious now. "liar. name one thing about me that you figured out." layering on your skepticism to bait him, you cross your ankles in the seat, subtly pressing your thighs together.

not on purpose.

obviously.

he tilts his head at you, eyes dipping over your figure before meeting your gaze head-on. he's always been a bit more bold with just you two in a room arguing, like the environment gives him room to (metaphorically) stretch his legs. you watch as he shifts his hips just slightly. "you like attention. compliments and gifts and touches. but it flusters you. as if you don't think you deserve it."

okay, asshole. you look away from him and fix your necklace. "that is so not hard to assume. i'm sure plenty of people feel that way." swallowing, you look over at him again. "especially girls."

stiles squints at you, crossing his arms over his chest. "alright, fine. you like it when you get- or i guess, from what i've experienced- you like it when i manhandle you. you make this face when you like something. it's..."

his jaw clenches, and he pauses like he's changing directions. "annoying."

you make an offended noise and narrow your eyes at him. "i do not."

"you do." he raises his brows in challenge. "you're making it right now."

"nothing you are doing is likeable, currently." you snap quickly.

stiles smirks, tilts his head at you. his hips are pushed out and his arms are crossed over his chest, making his biceps bulge a bit.

"oh yeah?"

☆

there are so many more "oh yeah" scenarios. guys he's an accidental whore i love him. on the phone late at night while you say "i'm so tired but i dont wanna hang up :(" he's like "oh yeah?" in the sleepy voice. wearing a skimpy fit lydia had you borrow and he's checking you out clearly half hard and you're like "yea i just borrowed it from lyds nbd" and he's like "oh yeah?" absentmindedly. making out he finds your sweet spot on your neck and you tell him "feels so good" and he's all condescending like "oh yeah?"

[toxycodone]

"Are they into PDA?" - Dungeon Meshi Edition

content. multiple x reader, fluff

an. yknow i havent written in like a week ESPECIALLY for my beloved dungeon meshi so. here is this. I'm kinda using this too as like practice bc i have never written for a lot of these characters but I would love to try!

Let me know if you want me to do this for another fandom <3 or if i forgot some characters

Laios's Party

Laios - He can go 50/50. I think at the start of a relationship he’s really awkward about it (he’s not used to anyone being affectionate with him besides his sister). But as time goes on he starts to really get into it. He just loves finally feeling accepted and cared for it’s just 💕💕 yeah. He’s lovey dovey enough with you in public to make people cringe. And he doesn’t get it when people suggest he should cool it down. Laios’s PDA is never heated or anything. Just cute and romantic. He’s smitten.

Falin - Similar to Laios, but I think she’s more chill with it off the bat. Falin gets hit with that puppy love phase HARD when you first start dating so she’s all shy and her heart’s pounding but she’s only bashful because she’s just so into you!! post-chimera she becomes a lot more assertive and has less regard for others witnessing your PDA. She’s always sitting close to you, holding your hand, resting her head on your shoulder (or letting you rest your head on hers). I also think she has a habit of sneaking up on your and nipping your neck/shoulder.

Marcille - ENJOYS IT. Like…there is not denying it. Marcille loves PDA. You would think your hands are glued together or something my God when you two are walking she’s always holding yours and swinging your arms while humming a little tune AHHHH…of course her cheeks will be stained red though. You ask for a kiss in public and she’s squeaks out an “…okay.” (Then has to hype herself up and is timidly puckering her lips w her eyes squeezed shut comically tight). Anyways. Yeah. She’s a little obsessed with you okay.

Chilchuck - He’s more lowkey and chill about PDA. He admires other couples when he witnesses it “aaah, young love.” But I think Chilchuck is a bit too mature to just. Make out with you in public (now if he’s had a few beers. That’s different. Drunk Chilchuck is a different breed okay.) Chil will give you a goodbye kiss or hold your hand for a second and give you a gentle squeeze, but that’s about it when it comes to public affection. I think he shows his affection fr tho by buying you accessories to wear (scarves, rings, pouches, etc.).

Senshi - He’s not super affectionate in public in general but he doesn’t mind it. Like oh? You wanna give him a little kiss? Sure. That’s fine. But then when he realizes others witnessed it then Senshi gets bashful. Thank god he has that thick ass beard bc I know he’s blushing way too hard. He blushes really hard at any PDA between you two. It’s honestly super cute. :3

Izutsumi - No. Hard pass. Do not. It just makes her incredibly uncomfortable (honestly the idea of affection in general makes her feel weird bc Izu thinks she’s undeserving, but she likes you enough to try to love herself. For you.) I think Izu substitutes PDA with handmade things…like. One day after a little thinking and comparing you guys to other couples she’s a little nervous about you thinking she doesn’t like you/isn’t a good partner. So…you guys have matching necklaces she made instead. It’s just a pretty rock and some feathers tied clumsily in twine but! She’s trying! It’s a step in showing that Izu wants something to link you guys together to others.

Toshiro - (idc that he isn’t in the party anymore he just fits best here ok) Hear me the fuck out. Toshiro Nakamoto likes PDA. BEFORE YOU STOP READING HEAR ME OUT. I think it’s a huge deal w his characterization that Toshiro is really repressed and is learning to voice his needs/concerns/opinions/etc. and I think this also applies to like. Getting in touch with his desires. Toshiro desires to be loved and cared for and well. He enjoys actions of affection from you. They make him happy. And when he finds himself getting embarrassed about it…he thinks on it. Like why should he feel the need to not showcase this? Anyways, yes he enjoys it. But keep it classy 💕 He prefers to save anything more for when you two are alone.

Kabru's Party

Kabru - 50/50 like Laios. But Kabru’s initial dislike for PDA stems from his own insecurities. Like…Kabru is just still processing that he is capable of love and doesn’t have to basically set his own desires and needs to the side and sacrifice for others. After he jumps over that jump it’s smooth sailing though. (Kinda. Every now and then he gets hit w an insecurity episode). Kabru’s like a fantasy prince. He gives chaste kisses to your lips and forehead, kisses your knuckles…yeah. It’s cheesy, but from him it works.!

Holm - Average PDA enjoyer. Keeps it cool and classy in public. He doesn’t initiate a lot besides a gentle kiss to your forehead or patting your shoulder every now and then. He has no qualms with it, Holm’s just a really mature dude (plus with his religion I kinda think he values being respectful). But like. As soon as eyes are off you guys Holm is WAY more touchy and lovey. When mickbell and kuroo stay at his place he’s always a little miffed mainly because his privacy with you is SACRED to this man.

Mickbell - Says he likes PDA. Cannot handle being kissed without practically exploding. He’s so cringe (I love him). Mickbell the embodiment of that “first kiss” vs. “expecting a kiss with tongue” meme. But he’s the first kiss part. He likes to pretend he has any sort of experience (he does not) and any attempt at PDA leave him glowing red but in his mind he’s like heh…I was so cool. (He wasn’t)

Rin - NO. It’s a mix of bashfulness and her fear of doing something crazy via magic because of crazy emotions. But I think she desperately does crave affection. Being able to be treated like a normal girl and love and be loved with no issue. Yeah. You can probably sneak up on her and give her a smooch or something and she’ll be too stunned to react (thank goodness bc the explosion spell building up fizzles out before it can be fully cast)

Golden Kingdom

Thistle - Little pain in the ass he acts like he hates it but in reality he loves displays of affection. Like Thistle gets all red in the face and waves you off but then he’s blushing and kicking his feet like a schoolgirl when you’re out of sight. In my mind Thistle doesn’t do a lot of PDA (if any) but he’s most definitely writing about you in his poem books 💀 there’s likely books dedicated to you…and yes he’d die if you found out.

Yaad - In the most princely sense, yes. Yaad is very sweet. Polite. Demure. He kisses your hand as a greeting and may kiss your cheek if he’s feeling really crazy (omg). But he treats you like the most respectable being on earth. Absolutely adores you. PDA makes him blush and Yaad will have a cute little smile for a while afterwards and be in a good mood (Laios asks you to be affectionate w him particularly when he knows he royally messed up)

Canaries

Pattadol - DO NOT. Like maybe a cheek kiss is fine but Patty is working VERY hard to look like a formidable leader and when you distract her! She can’t! Plus the prisoners immediately start making fun of her! You guys gotta keep it cool around them. She still loves you though.

Lycion - This is weird but Lycion seems like the type of guy who can do sexual stuff in public with no issue but PDA? It makes him choke a bit. Only because he struggles SO much with self image + self worth so you doing an action just to show affection for him that doesn’t give you anything in return makes his heart skip a beat. Like damn? You really love him? That’s crazy. Anyways. It’s cute as fuck.

Fleki - I honestly don’t know what to say other than you could eat her out in front of a crowd and she wouldn’t flinch. She’s soooo touchy and all over you it probably makes people uncomfortable but she doesn’t give a fuck. She clings to you like a Koala with no issue (like she did to otta in that comic YEAH)

Otta - Yes but she’s going to be pretend chaste about it. Like Otta acts all down to earth in public but I can’t decide if it’s because she wants to tease you or pretend like she has any sense of self control. Once you’re desperate enough yeah you two will be making out in public’s

Cithis - Idk if this is against the grain but I think she’s a bit reserved about PDA. Not because of any bashfulness or whatever (she could give less of a fuck) but with her hinted past experiences with people not regarding her personal space and being weird to her. In my mind just. Cithis has some personal boundaries about being touched and stuff she doesn’t want to be crossed. That’s not stopping her from getting you off under the table with her foot though. (Insane.)

[ifwdominicfike]

𝐛𝐟!𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

how chris would be if he was your boyfriend ..

bf!chris who’s love language is definitely physical touch, he always has to touch you in some sort of way. “chris- im trying to do my hair please stop!” you huffed as chris sat on the bathroom counter, pulling at your belt loops to come closer “m’sorry ma, you’re just so pretty like this..” his hands caressing your skin softly “fine, y-you can stay here just keep those hands to yourself” “i won’t make any promises pretty girl”

bf!chris who would 100% have a shared playlist with you or would send you songs that reminded him of you “y/n did you listen to those songs i sent you?” a cheesy grin placed across his face “yes chris, i listened to all 10 of the- baby im literally right here why did you just send me another one!?”

bf!chris who will always find some kind of way to match with you “should i wear the pink one or the red one?” you say holding up the two different color tops “WAIT, i have the perfect hat for the pink one” your stare at him in confusion “what no- im not wearing a hat?” “no ma i meant for ME, my pink hat matches perfectly with that shirt. wear that one pleasee”

bf!chris who loves staying in with you, quality time is a big thing for him so even sitting in silence next to you is enough for him. “are you sure you didn’t wanna go? you seemed pretty excited to go with matt and nick so-“ you’re stopped by chris’s hand resting against your cheek “ma, they’ll be fine without me for a couple hours okay? stop worrying, im here with you s’all i’ll ever need” he kissed your temple and went back to watching the movie that was playing, leaving you with rosy cheeks and smile never leaving your face.

bf!chris who is the biggest softie ever, he would never admit in front of anyone but you though. he loves snuggling up against you, sometimes he goes under shirt because he’s “cold”. he’s a sucker for head scratches too, sometimes he’s shy to ask for them because he doesn’t wanna seem “clingy” but you’re never one to judge or say no to your sweet boy.

bf!chris who would definitely spoil you no matter what, he caught you staring at a skirt for a little longer than normal? its yours. you mention a necklace that you thought was pretty? its yours. literally anything you want he automatically gets it for you “ooh chris look at this shirt, the lace is so pretty don’t you think?” “yeah baby, its gorgeous can i see it?” he immediately hangs onto it while pulling out his card “go ahead ma y’want anything else? anything you want its yours”

bf!chris who makes sure you know how much he loves and cares for you. he never wants you to even think for a second that he doesn’t love you. you could be doing something so simple and he’ll come up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist while saying the sweetest words. “i love you so much sweetheart” “you’re all i’ll ever need, no one else can come above you.”

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

i was gonna add more but i got lazy.. i need to finish my other drafts to add onto my masterlist 😞😞 but if anyone wants to be on my taglist just comment!! ok bye now, love youu ᥫ᭡

[goquokka00]

Hiii! Can please write me a jeongin fanfic where u both are dating for a while now and after a long date u both are asleep and cuddling really close and skz being skz go into his room and catch u both (they didn't know u were dating) I really love ur fanfics and if u choose to write this one I know it would be amazing 💗 💓 💖

Absolutely! Honestly, this is such a cute idea, I love it so much, and I really hope that I did you justice! I'm also really hoping that I got the vibes of our wonderful baby bread down pat...I never know if I nail the members and how they behave. Hope you love it! Love you, pookie ❤️❤️❤️

Show, Don't Tell

Summary: You and Jeongin had been dating for a while now, a few months. But your relationship was a secret, up until your 6-month anniversary, where you and Jeongin fell asleep after a date, and some unexpected guests found you...

Pairing: Jeongin X Reader (F!)

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Word Count: 1.8K

The members of Stray Kids weren't stupid. They knew that something was up with their maknae. Jeongin was never this smiley, or happy. Not saying he was depressed or anything, but he was never this...lively. It was strange. But when they asked, Jeongin just said that it was nothing, and that he was perfectly fine. Nothing to suspect.

He didn't want them finding out about the relationship that he had with you.

Ever since the two of you had shared your feelings for each other after hanging out one night, going from friends to lovers, Jeongin had been the happiest he'd been in years. He felt whole. Complete. And it was all because of you. And you felt the same. Both of you completed each other, even before you both started to date.

The little problem was that Jeongin was nervous about telling the others about the relationship he had with you. Yes, Stray Kids knew about you. And all of you got along well. You saw them as your older brothers, just as he did. And they saw you like their little sister. But what Jeongin was nervous about what the others would say.

He was an idol, after all. He had to remember that. And he did remember that. If his members found out, he was scared that he'd be forced to share you with Stay as well. And that scared him. Stays were brutal, and he didn't want you to get hate. And so, for that reason, he kept it a secret.

But today, everything changed. And it all started with him showing up at your door, flowers in hand.

To sum it up shortly, it was your 6-month anniversary. Half a year. And that was big for both of you. And so, you two decided to celebrate by spending the day together. And it started here.

You opened the door, wearing a simple pair of jean shorts, a cropped hoodie, and those sneakers Jeongin bought you for your birthday. You had on some bracelets and a necklace he gave you for your 2-month anniversary. Your hair was down, and your makeup was done lightly.

"Wow....you look perfect, jagi." Jeongin smiled, holding the flowers out for you as he spoke, watching your face light up just as it always did. "Here, for you."

"Aw, You didn't have to, Jeongin." Your voice was soft as you spoke, that smile melting Jeongin's heart. The two of you shared a quick kiss before you ran back inside to put the flowers in a vase. And once you reappeared, the two of you linked hands, beginning your date.

The two of you went to a park, walking around and getting ice cream before going to the arcade to play games. The two of you kept score of who won what, and per usual, Jeongin beat you. But not by much. And then, it was off to a fancy restaurant for lunch. And the two of you talked and laughed, getting along just as well as you did when you were both friends.

But it was when the two of you went back to his place, going into his room and gently shutting the door before cuddling on the bed when you decided to ask Jeongin a question he was dreading.

"Baby, when do you plan on telling the others about us?" You gave Jeongin a curious but concerned look, seeing the way his face fell a bit as he sighed.

"I don't know..." He spoke, holding you closer to him. All you did was brush some hair out of his face, studying his features before speaking again.

"I'm not pressuring you, but...you can't keep it a secret forever."

"I know. I'm just nervous about what they'll say about it." Jeongin then looked to your eyes, and you could see the fighting he was doing with himself. It made your heart twist a bit. "I love you a lot, and I know you all get along...but I'm scared that they'll make me go public with you. And I'm definitely not ready for that."

"Jeongin..." You cooed, moving to hug him closer. "I don't think they'd ever do that. They're your friends..."

"They'll still bring it up..."

"Yeah, but you can't run away from the fact that you'll have to go public about our relationship eventually."

And that got Jeongin to go quiet. You looked at him, seeing the fighting continue before you smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, seeing his eyes widen a bit. And then, you pecked his lips again, smiling.

"Let's not focus on it right now. Today is about us, not about what we need to do in the future." You suggested, seeing the smile that appeared on his lips. And then, he pecked your lips in return, humming.

"I like that idea..."

||

All Chan was doing was going to get food, and wanted to know if Jeongin wanted anything. But when he didn't get a response, Chan just decided to knock, seeing if that would do the trick. And when even that didn't work, he opened the door. And immediately, he was met with a view he never expected in the history of his life.

There was Jeongin, holding you right against his chest, you in his hoodie and your leg up on his hip. His one hand was inside the hoodie, both of you sleeping close together. And immediately, Chan blinked before taking a picture and sending it to the groupchat.

And it wasn't long after when the rest of the group was over, standing in the doorway and ogling at the sight of their maknae cuddling with you.

"Holy shit..." Changbin mumbled, blinking before looking to Chan. "How the hell did he manage to score a girl before us?"

"Shh! They're sleeping!" Minho growled, his eyes harsh. The rapper just shrunk down, watching as Minho looked back at them.

"So, uh...what do we do?" Felix asked, looking to Chan. The leader just crossed his arms, running through the possibilities. It was hard to make a call, but eventually he smiled, looking to the couple.

"Let's leave them be for a bit. They're obviously tired. We can ask questions later." Chan said. And after that, he gently shoved the group out of the room, ushering them out. "Go go go, out we go."

"Aw, but they're so cute together!" Jisung whined, throwing his head back as he walked.

And as he continued to whine as the door was shut, Jeongin slowly woke up, groaning and lifting his head, looking to the door. He heard the commotion, thinking that maybe the group was having a meeting about something. Either way, he just grabbed his phone, opening it up to find...

Oh, no....

"Shit...Shit shit shit...!" Jeongin sat up, rubbing his eyes in disbelief as he stared at his phone, waking you up in the process. You groaned, lifting your head, still half asleep.

"Huh...?"

"They found out!" Jeongin's voice was panicked, but it was also quiet. And then, his eyes went to you. "Chan took a picture of us! See?"

"Aw...cute. You should send that to me." You said with a smile, still groggy.

"Y/N!"

"Sorry, sorry..." You then sat up, rubbing your eyes and yawning, looking to Jeongin before looking to his phone. "It was bound to happen eventually, you know."

"Not the point!" Jeongin then pointed to the door, his eyes panicked. "They're out there right now, talking! They're probably gonna force us to go public, and-and Chan's probably pissed, and--"

"And I'm gonna stop you right there." You then grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. "Nobody can force you to do anything with this. And knowing them, they'll support you in whatever decision you make. They'll ask questions, yeah, but they'd never force you to do something you don't want to do."

Jeongin took a deep breath at your words, letting it out slowly before nodding his head. You had a point. Just like always.

"Right. Yeah." And then, he kissed your palm, smiling. "Might as well go and face the music."

||

And so, the two of you went out of the room, only to be bombarded with questions. And you both calmly answered the questions. All of them. How you were dating, how long you had been dating, how you both started dating, all of it. And then, you both looked to Chan.

"So you hid this for six months?" Chan asked, watching as Jeongin nodded. "And why is that?"

"I..." Jeongin started, taking a breath as he felt your hand in his. "I was nervous about telling all of you. I was scared that you guys were gonna force me to go public with this, and...and I really don't think that I'm personally ready for that yet."

Everyone was silent as Jeongin explained himself, listening to each word. They all looked at each other, only for Seungmin to speak up.

"That's the dumbest reason I've ever heard in my life." And as he spoke, Jeongin looked to him, eyes wide.

"No it's not!"

"Do you honestly think we'd force you to do that?" Minho asked, crossing his arms as he looked at the youngest. "We aren't monsters, jeez."

"Going public is huge, Jeongin. And that's a call you should make by yourself." Chan said, giving Jeongin a smile. "While I'm not exactly happy that you kept this from all of us, especially me, for six months...I can understand where you're coming from."

"And I'm sorry for that, hyung." Jeongin then looked to you, smiling softly. "I just...Y/n means the world to me. She makes me feel calmer, happier, warmer...she makes me feel complete. And I just don't want anything to jeopardize what we have between us."

"Aw, that's so adorable!" Hyunjin cooed, happy to hear that his friend was really that in love.

"So, I think we've learned a valuable lesson." Chan then clapped his hands together, smiling at you both. "From now on, no more secrets. I'd suggest going public sooner rather than later, but don't feel like you need to right away. Make sure you're both ready."

"Right. Thanks, hyung." Jeongin smiled, nodding his head. And then, he looked to you, seeing your smile.

"I told you." You said to him, seeing him sigh.

"Whatever..." Jeongin then nudged you, laughing a bit. "What a way to celebrate six months, huh?"

"Wait, celebrate?" Felix asked, blinking. You nodded, smiling to him.

"Yeah, today is our 6-month anniversary." You said. And instantly, the members froze, looking at each other.

"Oh my god, congrats!" Hyunjin exclaimed, all while Chan stood up, guiding the others out of the dorm.

"I am so sorry for doing this on your anniversary, you guys! We'll leave you alone, now." Chan said, dragging Jisung and Felix behind him.

"I'll make you guys brownies for it later!" Felix exclaimed, Jisung only whining as he was dragged out. And once everyone had cleared the area, you and Jeongin just smiled at each other.

What a way to celebrate six months...

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @miss-daisy04 @kayleefriedchicken @wolfs-archive @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @wolfs-howling @rose-w-00-d @skzlover24

[cobrakaisb]

"is that my shirt?"

summary: a collection of the various times you and luke get caught wearing each other’s clothes OR three times you denied wearing luke’s clothes and the one time he completely owned it.

word count: 1.6k

featuring: 3+1, aphrodite!reader, crop top luke & the headcanon that each cabin has cutsey chb themed shirts

one: luke’s gray zip-up

the dining pavilion is always the quietest in the morning. at least it normally is, but you overslept today. somehow you missed all your alarms, the ruckus of all your siblings waking up, and silena and drew’s fight over whether or not the other stole their makeup. so no one really blames you for walking into the pavilion well after the start of breakfast. 

“could you at least look a little more put together?” carmen, your sister who values tidiness in all aspects of her life, asks as you take one of the only open seats at the table. 

you look down at your outfit: high-top converse, denim shorts, a camp half-blood shirt, your camp necklace, and a gray zip-up to combat the unexpected chill of the morning. not too shabby, you thought, especially considering the fact that you even managed to tame your bedhead and put on some basic makeup. 

“i am put together. aren’t i?” you respond, reaching for the mug of hot coffee damien slides your way. 

“you look fine,” he assures, but his eyebrows furrow as he focuses on your sweatshirt. “is that new?” he continues.   

“what this?” you ask, pointing at the material. 

“yeah. i’ve never seen it on you before,” he continues. 

“don’t you know, damien, that it’s luke’s. he’s like always wearing it,” drew butts in. “they’re like a thing now, or whatever,” she continues, waving her hand as if swatting a fly. 

you huff at her annoyed tone, and the fact that you’ve been called out by your younger siblings. in an attempt to defend yourself you say, “it’s not luke’s. it’s mine.”

drew, damien, and carmen all open their mouths to object, but they don’t have the chance too because luke leans over from the end of the hermes table: “i’ve been looking for that sweatshirt everywhere, but you can keep it. it looks better on you anyways.”   

you feel your cheeks heat up, and luke has the audacity to send you a wink before turning back to his breakfast.

two: luke’s blue flannel pajama pants

friday night sleepovers were basically an aphrodite tradition at this point. what started out as a self-care night full of facemasks, manicures, and gossip sessions for the older campers quickly turned into an all-cabin sleepover complete with a movie, pillow fight, and fort. 

you’re sitting between peter and rosie, the ten-year-old twins from fairfield, connecticut. the two of them were polar opposites; rosie was talkative and outgoing, while peter preferred the quiet and keeping to himself. it was surprising to everyone when he sat next to you and watched intently as you painted his sister’s nails. 

rosie was yapping away, telling you all the details of her day. you were humming along, occasionally adding in an “oh yeah” or “really?” when needed, but for the most part, you were focused on not smudging her nails. peter was leaning against your side, fighting sleep as he listened to his sister. 

“i remember these pants,” he interrupted, fingers tracing the blue, white, and black pattern on your thigh. “luke was wearing them when i had that nightmare about fractions,” he finishes softly, a small bluish coating his pale cheeks. 

“was this the time one third was crushing you?” rosie asks, leaning forward to be closer to her brother. 

peter nods timidly and rosie springs into action, mumbling words of comfort. you, on the other hand, are completely rigid. your back is as stiff and as straight as a board as you look straight ahead, trying not to make eye contact with any of the siblings your age seated around you. carmen opens her mouth, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, but you snap your head in her direction. 

“don’t say a word,” you threaten. 

one look of your vicious glare has her miming zipping her lips. 

three: luke’s ac/dc shirt

this is the third time luke’s sifted through the stack of shirts in his dresser. it’s also the third time he’s come up empty handed. he huffs in frustration, running a tired hand down his face in annoyance. between the overflow of campers, keeping connor and travis in line, and now losing his favorite shirt, luke castellan is at his wit’s end. 

“has anyone seen my ac/dc shirt? y’know the one with the tour dates on the back?” he asks, looking around the cramped cabin. 

several people shrug. some of the younger kids start asking what ac/dc even is, and he does not have time to go into that right now. a few people offer to look through their stuff, saying maybe someone mixed up the wash, but the general consensus is that no one has seen the shirt. 

luke groans in annoyance. he’s starting his fourth attempt at finding the shirt when penelope, one of the younger unclaimed campers, tugs on his cargo pants. luke crouches down to her level, placing a comforting hand on her back while prompting her to talk to him. 

“i think i saw someone else wearing it,” she whispers, shyly twirling around the hem of her cotton dress with a butterfly pattern. 

“who?” luke asks, a little too loudly and abruptly. he clears his throat, taking a deep breath, before repeating much calmer, “who was wearing it, penelope?”

“that girl you like,” she answers, gently kicking the toe of his red converse with her bright pink twinkle toes. 

luke smiles softly at her, rubbing her back. “thanks pen. i knew i could count on you,” he answers. 

penelope giggles at his words, “but you didn’t even tell me to look for it!” 

“but you’re so smart you knew i’d need it,” he praises, ruffling her hair good-naturedly. 

once she runs off, luke leaves the cabin. he’s on a mission to find you, but most importantly, he’s on a mission to find his ac/dc shirt. after a series of questions, and some misguided directions, he finds you standing on the shore of the lake, surrounded by a variety of nymphs, demigods, and satyrs. 

you meet his gaze once he calls out to you, and watches as the color leaves your face. 

“how did you even get this?” he asks, taking some of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger once he’s within reach of you. 

you scoff at his words, “this is mine.” 

luke huffs, crossing his arms in annoyance. he watches as your eyes briefly flicker to his biceps before meeting his brown ones. 

“really? and since when do you buy your t-shirts two sizes too big?” he asks, smirking confidently. he’s got you now. 

“um since i wanted this as a beach coverup. it’s not rocket science, luke,” you answer. 

luke licks his lip, annoyance flickering across his eyes. “name five songs then,” he demands. 

your mouth falls open. “why are you such a guy?” you ask, frustrated.

“if you love ac/dc so much that you’d buy one of their shirts, name some songs,” he continues, but his voice has turned teasing. 

he watches as your nostrils flare and you ball your hands into fists at your sides. it’s cute.

“fine!” you agree. “there’s thunderstruck, and highway to hell, and that one about sex.”

“which one about sex?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “there’s multiple.” 

“all of them!” you shout. “there! that’s five.” 

luke rolls his eyes, but still wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “if you want my clothes, all you have to do is ask,” he whispers into your hairline before placing a soft kiss on your skin. 

one: your pink camp half-blood crop-top

“have you seen luke today?” silena asks, catching up with you as you walk from the strawberry fields towards the archery range. 

“no why?” you ask curiously. 

her smile tells you everything you need to know; it’s wide and luminous, but her pearly white teeth seem to twinkle with the knowledge she’s withholding from you. 

“oh. no reason,” she says, before trying to skip away from you. 

you grab her shoulder, pulling her back towards you. “silena, what did he do?” you ask. 

silena giggles this time. “it’s nothing really, just. gosh, your boyfriend is so handsome, did you know that?”

“yes i did,” you start, “but why are you smiling and giggling like that?” 

she laughs again, “i think you should check the volleyball courts.” 

you hate athletics, but you’ve never sprinted to the volleyball courts so godsdamn fast in your life. when you arrive, you’re not surprised to see the hermes boys and apollo boys playing a beach volleyball match. most of them are shirtless and sweaty (and the entertainment for about twenty other campers) but luke is on the only one with his shirt on. you don’t think much of it, until he jumps for the ball and you get a good look at the color; his shirt is light pink. it’s also very tight around his broad arms and shoulders, hugging the muscles nicely while also showing off his toned abdomen. 

you watch as he turns to high five some of his teammates after scoring a point. his brown eyes meet your intense gaze, and he smiles widely at you. he has the audacity to flex and shout, “like what you see, babe? i figured this color suited me.” 

you roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head side to side as you walk over to him. your fingers trace the collar of your his shirt, gently nudging against the clay beads of his camp half-blood necklace. luke visibly gulps, and you smirk as your gazes connect.

“i think you should keep this,” you whisper, trailing your finger down his chest. “it looks better on you than me,” you finish, stepping away from him.