#except they made. more than just one girl

[lovecla]

FAVORITE KIND OF NIGHT ; HUGHES, SLAFKOVSKÝ

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, juraj slafkovský x fem!reader, ex-cole caufield x fem!reader

SUMMARY when you found out your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you the entire time, you do what every girl does when they get cheated on: you fuck his best friends.

WORD COUNT 5,5k

WARNINGS taboo content, cheating, foursome (f/m/m/m), p in v, unprotected sex, degradation, mention of stomach bulge, creampie, double p in v, rough sex, manhandling, dirty talk, humiliation, subspace, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), gagging, dacryphilia, brief aftercare.

FROM ME TO YOU my loves, listen to your clara very carefully: if you do not agree with ANY of what’s written here, please consider not reading. this is just a silly idea i had a few days ago and i wanted to write about it. i have zero intentions of offending anyone: this is pure fiction! none of this is real! anyways, thank you @cyberhughes for listening to my naughty thoughts about this plot and for having my back. love you juni baby, this one’s for you <3 and for those who are still here, have a nice reading!

𖧷

on that lonely night, said it wouldn't be love

but we felt the rush (fell in love)

it made us believe it was only us

THE THING about being a hockey girlfriend is that you will, most certainly, get cheated on.

When you first heard that, you thought it was just bullshit— not all men are the same and all of that. Some people were just unfortunate to have shitty boyfriends, but not you.

Or at least that’s what you thought before watching a viral video of your boyfriend of two years kissing three different girls at a party.

The video was blurry, and maybe if you were a little bit more naive, you wouldn’t have noticed that the man eating those girls’ lips was, in fact, Cole Caufield, the man you swore to be the love of your life.

“Maybe it’s not him, Y/n,” your friend said, voice soft and gentle, as she put your phone down and locked it. “Cole wouldn’t do that… right?”

Right, you want to say. Of course he wouldn’t do that.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to lie and betray your own trust. You sat there, on your couch, thinking about what you were going to do.

Your relationship was public, Cole had already posted pictures of you several times over the years, but now, so was the fact that he cheated on you with not just one girl, but with two more.

Now, everyone knows that you got cheated on, and that you weren’t an exception to the Hockey rule.

“‘s okay,” you sniff, cleaning your nose with your sweater’s sleeve. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, really, but what else could you do?

Truth is, even though you love— loved?— Cole a lot, you had been feeling a little bit weird. Cole didn’t seek you anymore, he didn’t look at you the same way he used to do when you first started dating.

You thought it was just the fact that he was tired and feeling responsible for his team’s recklessness, but clearly, it wasn’t just that.

Days passed after the terrible, awful video, and even though you hadn’t spoken to Cole in probably two weeks— he was away and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his texts—, you wanted to break things up with him in person.

“Why would you do that?” Your friend asked over the phone, and you sighed.

“Because I’m better than he is,” you say. “And because I need to get closure.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs, and then she’s quiet for a few seconds. But, “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” You ask, rolling to your side. “What is it?”

“There’s going to be a party at Zegras’ place tonight,” she says. “Heard Cole shit ass is going.”

“Who told you that?”

“I was talking to one of his new buddies, and he invited me to the party. Said I could go if I kept my mouth shut to you,” she scoffed. “I thought about telling him to hell and then telling him to fuck himself but I thought it might be more useful to pretend I wasn’t going to tell you anything and then tell you everything.”

You chuckled. “Yeah. We’re going, then?”

“We so are going,” she giggles. “I’ll bring the eggs.”

“I’ll bring the flour.”

𖧷

THE PARTY looked more like a frat party than anything, which lowkey disgusted you.

You knew the majority of the players were young and still in their teenager mindset, but whenever you went to a party, it usually had more decorum than whatever this was.

The music was so loud you couldn’t hear your friend talking next to you. People were grinding against each other like they were in heat and ready to fuck in front of everyone, and the room had a strong smell of marijuana and cheap beer.

You rolled your eyes but focused on your reason to be there: find Cole, break up with him and maybe even embarrass him in front of all of his friends.

You tried to warn your friend about where you were going, but since the music was too loud, you just signaled to the door on your right. She nodded, and you moved around the room, feeling with your feet the way the floor shook with the song’s thrumming.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to walk much. Cole’s stupid ass seemed to have forgotten to close his room’s door, and now you were staring at the 5’8” man you thought was going to be the father of your kids, kissing another girl.

“So, this looks really fun, huh?” You said, closing the room’s door, and suddenly, all of the eyes were on you. Cole’s included.

“Y-Y/n, what,” he stutters, removing the girl from his lap and getting up. “What are you doing here, baby?”

“No, what are you doing here?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling yourself start to burn with anger. “Weren’t you supposed to be in New York?”

“No, you see—”

“Is your name New York, sweetie?” You ask the girl who was previously kissing him, who looks like a scared, little kitten. Little does she know you’re not going after her— you couldn't care less about her. “Uh, I guess not.”

There were at least eight other people in the room, sitting there and goofing around. But now, all of them looked like they would pay a hundred thousand bucks not to be in Cole’s shoes.

“Y/n—” he tries again, reaching for your arm.

You step back, flinching away from his touch. “Don’t fucking touch me, Cole. You’re fucking sick. I hope y’all have fun,” you hiss, turning around and heading towards the room’s door again. You look over your shoulder, watching Cole’s sorrowful face. “Enjoy as much as you can, darling. I know his dick won’t make you happy.”

You leave the room with fast steps, not before hearing Cole’s so-called friends laugh out loud with your words. You could feel yourself burning with anger, which made you happy. You thought you were going to feel destroyed, sad and depressed when you confronted him about the fact that he cheated on you regularly.

But after seeing his pathetic expression and actions, you realised you weren’t the one who should be feeling that way.

Your legs were moving on their own, and when you noticed, you were on the second floor, barging in another room, opening its door with full strength.

Only to blush even more, this time not with anger, no.

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. Where’s the fire?”

Jack’s sarcastic tone made you hold the door’s handle tighter, and when you looked around, you felt like a fish out of its tank.

The room was poorly lit, only the yellow light from the lamps reflected on the dark walls of the room, making the environment seem more intimate than it really was.

There were sofas along the room, and low music was playing, probably coming from one of the cell phones.

Because not only Jack Hughes was there, but his oldest brother, Quinn and Juraj Slafkovský.

You didn’t even know Quinn and Jack got along with Slaf, yet there they were, sitting and chatting with each other like they weren’t all rivals during the weekdays.

They laughed with Jack’s little remark before Quinn said: “You can come in, we don’t bite.”

“Unless you want to.” Juraj was the one who said this, to your ultimate surprise, and you rolled your eyes, doing as they said and getting in, closing the door behind you.

“Dude, come on,” Jack laughs. “She has a boyfriend.”

“Not anymore,” you say, for the first time since you opened the door. You eyed the drink cart in the corner of the room, taking full steps towards it and opening the first bottle you say. Whiskey. Great. “I just broke up with Cole, actually.”

There was a second of silence before you heard some clapping behind you, which made you turn around and stare at the grown men sitting across the room.

“What’s this clapping for?” You ask.

“It was about time, Y/n, what the hell,” Juraj says. “Guy’s been cheating on you for months.”

“And you guys didn’t think of, I don’t know, maybe give me a heads up?” You ask, sarcasm pouring out of your mouth while you pour the alcoholic drink in the glass sitting on the wooden surface. Then, you walk until you’re sitting beside Quinn and Juraj. “Would’ve been nice.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, poking your shoulder. “In my defense, I wasn’t around enough to know he was cheating.”

“In my defense,” Jack starts. “I don’t like him.”

“In my defense,” Juraj finishes, opening his legs and resting his arms behind his head. “I couldn’t do it, because I would’ve been called a homewrecker.”

You almost choked on your drink. “What?!”

“You know I’ve been wanting to fuck you for ages now,” he sighs, like he’s tired of saying that; like he’s been saying that for a long time now. “But you can’t exactly fuck your homie’s girlfriend, can you?”

“Word.” Jack says, leaning forward to fist bumping Juraj. Quinn only chuckles and you can’t believe your eyes.

You’ve known all of them for basically the same amount of time, and you liked them a lot. Jack was a little, teasing shit, way too different from Quinn, but he was funny and so were his brothers— hanging out with them was always fun.

Quinn was private but sweet, probably one of your favorite people in the league. His soft spoken demeanor had made its way into your heart and was now stuck there, for the rest of your life, probably.

And Juraj was an old friend, someone you knew even before you started dating Cole— he was the reason you and Cole got together in the first place.

So hearing that one of your closest friends wants to have sex with you is weird, especially because he had just confessed that in front of two other men.

You stare at them, incredulous. “What are you even talking about?”

“Come on, Y/n, you can’t be this oblivious,” Jack grunts, and you tilt your head, confused. “You didn’t notice the way he looks at you?”

“Fuck you, Hughes,” Slaf curses, giving him the middle finger. “Like you’re one to talk. Everyone knows you’re head over heels for her and you know which head I’m talking about.”

Quinn laughs like what Slaf said had been the funniest thing he’d heard in a while, while Jack simply shrugs and looks at you with expectant eyes.

“You are all drunk. That’s the only explanation I can find,” you say, still choosing not to see what is right in front of you. “And I’m about to be the next one.”

You took just one sip before Quinn wrapped his hand around your glass and took it out of your hands. You were about to complain and ask him what happened when he shook his head, clicking his tongue. “We are not drunk, Y/n. And we don’t want you to be.”

“What? Why not?” You ask. “I promise I’m not that type of person who talks about their love life when they’re drunk. I might talk about Tik Tok memes, though.”

“That’s worse than talking about your shit ass love life,” Jack murmurs and you turn around to look at him with angry eyes. “What?” He asks, grinning, with his hands in the air.

“It’s not my fault I can’t find the right guys,” you sigh, resting your head on Quinn’s shoulder like you’re used to doing. “Why do men suck?”

“Not all of them do, sweets.” Quinn says, placing his hand on your naked thigh, making you blush faintly.

“We don’t.” Juraj murmurs beside you, and you hum.

“Well,” you say, measuring your words. “Unfortunately, I can’t have any of you. So, yeah, I still have the same problem.”

“Who said you can’t have any of us?” Juraj says, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows at him. “Or even better, all of us.”

There’s a beat of silence. The room is suddenly too warm for you, and even if you’re just wearing a skirt and a crop top, you still feel yourself starting to get sweaty.

The song is still playing, an unknown melody reverberating through the room, and what once felt big and spacious suffocates you now.

“You guys. You can’t be serious… right?” You ask, looking at each and every single one of them in the eye.

Jack is the first one to break the silence. “Come on, Y/n. Haven’t you ever thought about us like that?”

You can feel their eyes on you as you think of what to answer. You can’t say you haven’t— that would be a lie. You were loyal to Cole and you loved him, but you weren’t blind.

And now that you’re really thinking, these guys hadn’t been particularly sleek either; Jack with his obsession with calling you pet names, Quinn finding any and every excuse to touch you whenever you were in the same room and Juraj eye-fucking you from afar while you cuddled with his teammate.

So yeah, you have wondered about it before, but it all sounded so insane you didn’t think about it twice. The odds of all four of them liking you were pretty low, so why bother fooling yourself with these kinds of thoughts?

But now, you were sitting in the same room as them, with Juraj’s arm touching yours, Quinn’s hand running up and down your leg, and Jack’s eyes on you, like you were a prey or something similar.

“We can’t do that,” you whisper, trying your hardest to hold onto that single piece of sanity and morals you still had. “You guys are insane. Jack, Quinn’s your brother.” You reason, expecting to knock some sense into them.

Quinn squeezes your thigh slightly. “It wouldn’t be our first time.”

“Besides, it’s fine because we’re not going to fuck each other,” Jack says, like he’s telling you the sky’s blue. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“We are going to fuck you,” Juraj corrects, and you close your eyes, holding your hands together on your lap, trying to keep them still. “What do you say, chéri?” He asks, getting dangerously close to your neck, his strong, masculine scent making your head spin. His lips briefly touch your neck, the contact so light you wouldn’t feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of your surroundings.

Quinn’s warm, big hand is moving up, up and up, and that startles you.

You get up, panting as hard as if you had ran an entire marathon, and you stand in the middle of the room, surrounded by them. By your friends who had just asked to fuck you.

“I can’t— I can’t do this,” you whisper. “What about Cole, what about—”

“Sweetheart, Cole is probably balls deep inside someone else right now,” Quinn replies, and the others hum in agreement. “If you don’t want it because you don’t want to, it’s fine, you know we’d never force you. But,” he spreads his thighs, the outline of his cock is visible and right there for you to see. You gulp, not sure of what to do. “If you don’t want to do it because you still believe Cole deserves your kindness, then I have to say—”

“You’re being dumb,” Juraj finishes Quinn’s sentence, smirking. “You’ll be crying over one small cock when you have three waiting for you. It’s your pick, really.”

Your head is spinning and you feel aware of your body, which is something you hate. You can feel your arms and legs starting to give in, and to your absolute horror and panic, you can feel your underwear start to get sticky.

You walk towards the door, ready to leave, ready to put this night behind and pretend this was all a fever dream, and never think about this again. But, as you grab the handle, you know you won’t be able to forget this, not even if you wanted to.

So, you stop being a hypocrite, and grab the door’s key, locking the door once, and then twice, before exhaling and turning around again.

All three of them are staring at you, with the same expression; lust. It’s sinful and you are certain that you’re going to hell for this, but as you start to get undressed, right there, in the middle of the room, for all of them to see, you can’t help but feel like what you’re doing is nothing but right.

You remove your crop top, pulling the fabric over your head and dropping it on the floor, shivering slightly when the cold breeze hits your naked skin. You do the same with your skirt, letting it fall around your feet like a river, leaving you standing with only your bra and lace underwear in front of them.

“Fuck.” You hear one of them say, you’re not sure who, the word nothing but a whisper.

Juraj is the first one to get up, and get his hands on you. He’s rough, hungry and not careful at all, something you’re not used to but like it anyway.

His lips are on yours almost instantly, and his hands are holding you down while he licks and sucks your mouth. He tastes like some kind of candy you’ve had before, and your brain is screaming that what you’re doing is wrong, so wrong and that you literally just broke up with your boyfriend of two years not even thirty minutes ago but you can’t stop.

It’s maddening, it’s addictive and you want more.

It gets worse when you feel another pair of hands on your back, unclamping your bra. You hear a soft tud, which you can only assume is your bralette hitting the floor. Then, there are hands squeezing your tits, hands almost as rough as Slaf’s, and it has you moaning inside his mouth.

“So fucking soft,” you hear Jack say behind you as he gets closer, his hard dick poking your ass over your underwear. “Tits so fucking soft for us, baby.”

And he pinches both of your nipples, making you whimper loud and separate your lips from Juraj’s. There’s a saliva string connecting both of you and it makes you feel nasty.

He gives you a brief peck before gently slapping your thighs twice, silently asking you to remove your underwear, which you promptly do. You slide your lace panties over your legs, shyly throwing them away from you.

It’s only then that you notice Quinn staring at you from the couch, half naked with his dick out of his boxers— the thought of him getting off only by watching you makes you squeeze your thighs together, to stop your hole from clenching around nothing.

“Let’s get you wet and ready, alright?” Juraj says, manhandling you around like you were just a toy for him to break, until your back touched the cold, wooden surface of the table sitting in the middle of the dark room. You arch your back, pouting with the coldness and Slaf coos at you. “I’m sorry there isn’t anything more comfortable than this.”

“Like she cares about comfort,” Quinn snorts. “The only thing she’s worried about it’s whether she’s taking one or two cocks in that greedy pussy of hers.”

The humiliation Quinn’s words bring you is almost unbearable, yet it has you dripping anyway. Their laughs, the way they’re all staring at you like some piece of meat makes you feel hot all over.

Juraj lays you down carefully, only to spread your legs open with the same roughness he used before, when his lips were on yours. You yelped, feeling exposed and embarrassed— your bare, glistening pussy was on display for all three of them to see.

“Holy shit,” you hear someone say, Juraj maybe, and you cringe, hiding your face with your hands. “She’s perfect.”

“We’ll see about that,” you hear Jack say behind you and you remove your hands from your face. Suddenly, he’s sliding his pants down, his dick touching his covered abs as wraps his fist around his length, slowly jerking off in front of you.

You’re watching it in awe, even as you stare at him upside down, since your head is hanging off the table’s edge. He smirks down at you at the same time Juraj licks your clenching hole, making you moan for the first time, loud and involuntary.

“Ah.”

“Shit,” you hear Slaf say. “Pussy so fucking wet and sweet. Y/n, you’ll drive me crazy.”

You don’t answer; not because you don’t want to but because Jack places his hands on both sides of your cheeks, squeezing them together until your mouth forms the perfect O and he can slide his entire dick inside it.

He moans noisily as you gag on his long dick. It’s an unexpected feeling, to have your throat fucked like this— Cole wasn’t a big fan of messy, rough blowjobs— but fuck if it doesn’t get you wetter.

Juraj is still working hard on your pussy, licking your folds and throbbing clit, eating it with a loud slurp, the sound of your wetness making you close your eyes with pleasure and shame.

“Your mouth feels so good, pretty,” Jack moans behind you, still holding your head in place while he drags his dick through your throat. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears and you feel your mouth so full it is starting to hurt. “Almost as tight as a pussy.”

It’s overwhelming to try to manage the feeling of Juraj’s tongue and Jack’s cock on you. You feel warm, your hands are gripping the table like your life depends on it, and you can feel yourself start to slip more and more.

“She’s wet enough already,” Quinn states, and the fact that he’s referring to you like you’re not even there makes you whimper loudly around Jack’s cock.

Next thing you know, you’re being manhandled again; Jack’s rough hands leave your cheeks to hold your waist instead, taking you to the nearest couch and laying down with you on top of him.

You’re facing him, those blue eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n,” he starts, his tone gentle for the first time that night. You hum, adjusting yourself on top of him, until you have both of your legs on each side of his body, almost on fours on top of him, highly aware that Quinn and Slaf could see everything. “We are going to be rough.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“I’m not asking for permission, baby, do you understand that?” He talks to you like one would do to a child, using a tone so soft it could put you to sleep, if it were any other situation. You bite your lips, feeling Slaf’s long fingers sliding up and down your pussy, rubbing circles on your swollen clit while Jack speaks. “We are going to be rough. Tonight, you’re nothing but a toy for us to play with, alright? A hole for us to fuck.”

You nod, closing your eyes momentarily as Juraj pinches your clit, hard. He tugs it and it feels like he just placed a clothespin on you. It hurts so. Good.

“I need your words, baby.”

“I u-understand that,” you sob, hot tears running freely down your face as you continue to speak. “I w-want it.”

Jack chuckles, touching your face with care. “It would be so nice if we actually cared about what you want, huh?”

You bit your lip again, suppressing a loud moan. It would be even more embarrassing if they realized how wet you got every time they were mean towards you.

“Bitch gets wetter and wetter every time you say shit like that, Hughes,” Juraj says, and your entire face burns with shame, as you hide it in the crock of Jack’s neck. “Come see this shit, Quinn.”

You tremble as you hear a pair of steps echoing through the room, and without warning, you feel your hips getting lifted, just slightly, at the same time you feel two fingers being inserted inside deeply in your pussy.

You whine loudly, not even feeling pain with how wet you were. His fingers were moving around like you were nothing but a sex doll, making you hold Jack’s arm to steady yourself.

“Look at this tight, little thing,” Juraj says, twirling his fingers around, scissoring them inside you. “Merde. She’s milking my fucking fingers, bro.”

“I can see that,” Quinn hums. “Pussy so fucking greedy she’s taking you without complaints.”

You were about to moan again when Juraj removed his fingers from you, leaving you clenching around nothing, once again. “Let’s start, then.”

After that, it’s hard to tell what really happened. You were thrown around, and suddenly, Slaf was laying under you, Quinn was standing beside you and you assumed Jack was behind you.

You could feel one of them poking their cock through your slit, gathering all your wetness to use as lube. Then, he slowly started to insert it, the stretch making you whimper inside Slaf’s mouth, as he bruised your lips roughly again.

Jack had barely given you time to adjust to his length when you felt Juraj’s tip poking at your entrance too. You gasped inside his mouth, feeling his dick joining Jack’s inside you and.

Oh.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

You opened your eyes, glistening with tears, and stared at Quinn standing beside you, who was looking at you with fond eyes. He chuckles while staring down at you, taking his dick out again and grabbing it with his right hand, running the tip over your mouth.

The salty taste of his precum painting your lips white distracted you momentarily from the fact that Juraj was still trying to put his dick inside you, accompanying Jack’s.

But it wasn’t enough, of course— even if Juraj's thick, long fingers had stretched you, it didn’t compare to having both of their cocks inside you, together.

“Oh,” you heard Quinn coo. “She’s crying. Maybe she can’t take it?”

You shook your head immediately, not even acknowledging how desperate you looked. Quinn put his thumb inside your mouth at the same time Juraj completely bottomed out inside you, making you scream around the brunette’s finger.

“Sh, sh,” Juraj mumbled under you. “Take it, hm?”

The stretch hurt, yet you couldn’t ask them to stop— you felt so full and you swear you can feel them rearranging your guts, reaching so deep inside your body that if you were to look, you’d probably see a bulge in your stomach.

“Holy shit, man,” Jack moaned, dragging his dick slowly until only the tip was in, so that he could slam it back into you again. “She’s so fucking tight.”

“Move, Hughes.” Juraj hissed under you, and after that, everything fell into a pure state of lust.

Jack and Juraj slammed their cocks inside you rhythmically, like they were dancing a well rehearsed dance. Your body jolted forward as they pounded inside you, rough hands— you didn’t know who's— holding you by your waist and pulling your hair at the same time.

Quinn, who had just been jerking his cock while looking at you, decides to take the opportunity and shove his dick inside you, making you gag around his thick length.

“Shit, Y/n,” he moans, throwing his head back. “I’m going to wreck your mouth like they’re doing with your pussy.”

And he wasn’t lying. He tilted your head to the side and thrust his dick deep inside your mouth, until your nose touched his crotch area. You gagged, still not used to the reckless act, but you were far too gone to complain.

The room smelled like sex, lust and sin. The dark walls watched as you laid on top of Juraj’s much bigger body while you took their cocks in two of your holes, with your pupils blown and wide. Your face was destroyed, it didn’t need to be a genius to realize that; your mascara had smudged under your eyes and the tears had spread the black ink almost everywhere.

Your legs hurt, and so did your jaw, but the pleasure was bigger than any pain. You had never felt this dirty, this raw before, but you feared that after this night, you wouldn’t ever be the same; nothing besides them would ever be enough.

“She feels so good,” Jack says, voice filled with need. “She was born for this.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Juraj says, kissing your neck while you gagged around Quinn’s dick. “Born to take cock inside her tiny pussy.”

After that, you keep slipping and slipping. You come on their dicks at least twice, falling apart each time you feel your wetness coating their dicks.

Your throat is raw, your jaw is hurting, but Quinn is close to his climax, like his brother and Slaf.

Jack and Slaf are the first to come, both painting your walls white with their seed. It’s maddening, your belly feels full of them, but you don’t have time to acknowledge that properly, not when Quinn is also coming deep inside your throat.

You lay limp on top of Slaf’s broad chest, closing your eyes, tired.

But—

“Y/n, hey,” you hear Quinn calling, and you open your eyes, just barely. “Can you stand up, just for a bit?”

“Don’t let it go to waste, baby,” Juraj warns you, and you keep clenching even after they remove their dicks. It’s hard, you feel so open you should be disgusted at yourself but you still try to do as they said.

You feel a pair of hands lifting you, and you sigh, exhausted. They manhandled you until you were laying on top of the couch, head resting on your arms. A rough pair of hands— Jack’s— spread your legs open, leaving you exposed once again.

“Go on,” he commands, and you let it go, feeling their sticky cum pour out of your used, gaping pussy. You sob, feeling dirty.

“Jesus fuck.”

“I think I’m hard again.”

“Lowkey, yeah.”

You collapse on the couch once you feel like there’s nothing left, blacking out as soon as your head hits the leather.

𖧷

YOU WOKE up with a light touch on your cheek.

It takes a while for you to manage to open your eyes, but when you do, you thank whoever decided to put a yellow, warm lighting in that room.

“Hi.”

Jack’s voice brings you back to the present, and you lift your head, only then realising that you were in his lap, fully clothed— with clothes that weren’t yours— and covered with something heavy that felt like a blanket.

You frowned.

“What… what happened?” You ask, looking around. There was Juraj, who was placing a few takeout bags on the table, and Quinn, who was holding an old piece of cloth. “Oh my God.”

It was real. You fucked Jack, Juraj and Quinn.

“Oh my God,” you groan, hiding your face in Jack’s chest.

“I hope these exclamations of yours are because you’re wearing Zegras’ hideous clothes and not because you realized you fucked the three of us.” Jack says, sarcasm taking over his face.

“Why would we do that,” you mumble. “Gosh. That’s wrong in so many ways, I can’t even begin to—”

“Y/n,” Quinn calls you, dropping the cloth on the table— the same table Juraj had eaten you out on— and walking towards you, lifting your chin with two of his fingers. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I— Well— We—” you stumbled over your words, not sure of what to say.

He applies pressure on your chin, sapphire eyes squinting at you. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“I—” you sighed. “Yeah. I did.”

He smiled.

“Then we’re fine.” It���s all he says, before pecking your lips, briefly. It was your first time kissing him and you secretly didn’t want it to be the last.

“We liked it too,” Jack says once his brother lets you go. He winks at you, smirking. “I’ll never forget the sight of you full with my—”

You put your hand over his mouth, red as an apple. “Okay, alright, shut up.”

He chuckles, taking your hand away and kissing you, exploring your mouth with his tongue, just like his brother had done, barely two minutes ago.

“You guys are no fun,” you hear Slaf’s voice. “In my opinion, we should just keep doing this.”

“No,” you say. “This was a one time thing. We can’t keep fucking each other like this.”

“As I said, no fun.”

“She’ll change her mind in a few days, I just know it.” Jack says under you and you roll your eyes at his cockiness.

“I’m too tired to argue with you,” you say. “I smell Chinese food. Can we eat?”

“Yeah, we should probably do that,” Quinn says, nodding. “It’s late already. Let’s eat and take Y/n home.”

Juraj and Jack agree with just a few more complaints, and while you watch them take turns to feed you, you realize, with shame, that Jack was wrong about one thing.

It wouldn’t take a few days for you to change your mind.

You had already done it.

NHL MASTERLIST.

JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST.

QUINN HUGHES MASTERLIST.

[httpswritings]

Lost On You

alexia putellas x realmadrid!reader and misa rodriguez x realmadrid!reader (as friends)

This story contains unrealistic plots (you'll know which ones I'm referring to as you read throughout the story) and it doesn't have a closed happy ending for ale/reader but it does have a cute ending for misa and reader's friendship.

It’s still a blur how it all happened, but somehow, you caught the attention of a Real Madrid scout. The memory feels hazy, like a dream you can’t quite piece together.

Almost three years ago, you walked Misa, your lifelong friend, to one of her training sessions. You were always early—your fear of being late to anything saw to that—and that day was no exception. With time to kill, Misa insisted you join her for a bit until her session started. She grabbed a ball and nudged you to take a few shots, claiming it would help her warm up.

“This isn’t fair. You know I’m terrible at this, Mimi,” you protested, shaking your head.

“So what? You’re here with me. We’ve got, like, forty-five minutes to kill,” she replied, grinning.

“No, you have forty-five minutes until training. This isn’t exactly my thing,” you shot back, though your resolve was already crumbling.

You could never say no to her, especially when she looked at you with those dark brown eyes. Misa was three years older than you, but she’d always been your rock. She was your protector—through school, through high school, through everything. No one dared mess with you because they knew Misa and her friends would have your back.

There were only two times anyone tried to tease you, both involving girls who thought they were bold enough. Both times, it took just one of your tears for Misa to lose her temper. She got expelled twice—once for each girl—and she never once regretted it. That’s just who she was: fiercely loyal, always protective, and endlessly caring, like the big sister you never had.

So, of course, you gave in. You took the ball from her hands, laughing as she bounced on her toes with excitement. Her Canarian accent always thickened when she got worked up, and you couldn’t help but think it sounded even more beautiful than usual.

In the background, unbeknownst to you, a Real Madrid agent had been watching.

You’d never played football before. Growing up, you were too afraid of being judged, of people labeling you as something you weren’t. The fear of being seen as "too masculine" or "lesbian" kept you on the sidelines, even though you secretly loved the sport. You only ever allowed yourself to enjoy it from a distance, never daring to join in, even during playground games. And even if you had wanted to, you knew your parents couldn’t afford to pay for football lessons.

It was Misa’s passion for the game, along with your own journey towards the acceptance of your lesbianism, that slowly helped you feel more comfortable with yourself. But by then, it was too late to learn—you had no idea how to play.

That’s why, when you took the ball and Misa urged you to take a few shots, you missed all three attempts. Both of you burst into laughter, treating it as nothing more than a silly game to pass the time. But just as you were about to leave, a woman approached you.

She introduced herself as Sara and began asking questions—your name, where you played, what position you were in. At first, you and Misa thought it was a joke. After all, Sara had just witnessed your disastrous technique. You played along, teasingly telling her you were Misa’s biggest rival, both of you laughing at the absurdity of it.

But then Sara started asking more specific questions, and it dawned on you that she was serious. You quickly apologized for joking and admitted the truth: you’d never played football before.

To your surprise, Sara didn’t seem fazed. She insisted on scheduling an appointment to see more of you. You had no idea why she was so interested, but Misa’s piercing stare made it clear that refusing wasn’t an option. Denying the request would’ve driven her crazy, so for the sake of your friend, you reluctantly agreed.

At the appointment, Sara closely analyzed your movements. You felt completely out of place, convinced this had to be some kind of elaborate joke you weren’t in on. You struggled to keep up—missing the ball, running out of breath quickly, and looking utterly lost most of the time. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

A few days later, Sara asked you to come back. That’s when she dropped the bombshell: she wanted to sign you to Real Madrid. She made it clear that you’d be starting from scratch, and it would take years of hard work to even dream of making it to the first team. But she believed in you—enough to set an ambitious goal: she wanted you to debut by the age of twenty-two. Surprisingly, you managed to do it a year earlier.

Your playing time was limited, especially in high-stakes matches. Sara was cautious about putting you under too much pressure too soon. Real Madrid’s women’s team wasn’t a powerhouse, and she wanted to shield you from the weight of failure. That’s why you didn’t play in the Copa de la Reina final, where Real Madrid came agonizingly close to winning their first title, only to lose to Atletico de Madrid. You also sat out the matches against FC Barcelona, and honestly, you were grateful for it. You watched Barça evolve, seeing the names of players who came and went: Lieke Martens, Jenni Hermoso, Asisat Oshoala, Aitana, Patri, Graham, Pinà… and Alexia.

Since entering the world of women’s football, you’d studied Alexia closely. She was the epitome of perfection—a relentless winner with an insatiable hunger for success. Her passion for the game was unmatched, and it drove everything she did.

To your astonishment, you were called up for a few friendly matches ahead of the World Cup. It was your chance to prove how far you’d come. Your improved physique and growing understanding of the game shone through, and after a standout performance, you earned your spot on the World Cup roster.

Your inclusion raised eyebrows. You’d only played two matches with the National team and had limited experience with Real Madrid’s first team, mostly featuring in their youth categories. But you were determined to make the most of the opportunity.

During the first training session, you stuck to Misa’s side like glue. You’d already met Jenni and Laia during the friendly matches, and they’d been incredibly supportive. But Alexia was a different story. She arrived late, still recovering from a long-term injury, but she was ready for the World Cup.

The first time you saw her, it felt like witnessing a celestial being. Her bright pink hair framed her face, and her eyes seemed to light up the room. She was warm and approachable as she introduced herself.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, glancing at her teammates with a smile.

Your cheeks burned red. Misa, standing beside you, bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. She knew all about your crush on Alexia, and she wasn’t about to let you live it down.

Alexia was an absolute sweetheart, always going out of her way to help you. She became so invested in you that she couldn’t help the feelings that began to grow. The tournament ended with your victory over England, and you scored the most crucial goal of the match. Over time, you and Alexia grew so close that the thought of returning to your separate lives filled you both with anxiety. Fortunately, you had one last chance to spend time together—the trip to Ibiza—and you made the most of every moment.

Afterward, you returned to your routine: striving to improve at Real Madrid B, focusing on your studies, and catching glimpses of Alexia whenever your paths crossed during national team camps.

You watched FC Barcelona thrive, and a pang of envy crept in, wishing you could one day celebrate such victories with your own team.

As time passed, you turned twenty-two, sitting on the bench as your team suffered yet another defeat in El Clásico. What hurt the most was seeing Misa’s disappointment. Your body ached to step onto the pitch, but your mind held you back..

It wasn’t until Spain’s Supercopa final, with your team trailing by three goals and forty-five minutes still on the clock, that something inside you snapped. You didn’t know what came over you, but you stood up, driven by an unshakable determination. You practically begged your coach to let you on the pitch, to at least try to lessen the blow, even if it meant losing by just one goal.

Alexia watched as you prepared to step in, and her heart ached. She thrived on Real Madrid’s defeats, but the hatred she held for the team paled in comparison to the love she felt for you. Her mind was set on scoring, even if it was just once, but her heart wanted to pull you off the field. She wanted to humiliate Real Madrid, not you. To her, you were different—you always had been.

When you were subbed in, you delivered a stunning performance, scoring and assisting to help your team clinch their first title. It was a wild, unforgettable display, fueled by your desire to see Misa succeed. It was an unusual philosophy, but Misa was everything to you in football. Even as you wore the Real Madrid badge on your chest, right on top of the area of your heart, where Alexia belonged, Misa was the one who dominated your thoughts. You had stood by her side through every defeat, every heartbreak, every moment when the weight of the game seemed too heavy to bear. Each loss had carved a little piece out of you, not because you were the one on the field, but because you felt her pain as if it were your own. She was more than just your best friend—she was your closest friend.

But this time was different. This time, you weren’t just watching her fight—you were watching her soar. The cup gleamed in her hands, a symbol of everything she had worked for, everything she had sacrificed. The smile on her face wasn’t just one of victory; it was one of triumph over every doubt, every setback, every moment when the world had tried to tell her she wasn’t enough. And as you stood there, watching her bask in the glory of her hard-earned success, you felt a surge of pride so overwhelming it brought tears to your eyes.

This was everything. This was the moment you had been waiting for, not for yourself, but for her. You had seen the sleepless nights, the endless training sessions, the quiet moments when she questioned if it was all worth it. And now, as she lifted the cup high, her laughter ringing out like music, you knew it was. Every drop of sweat, every tear, every ounce of pain had led her here, to this pinnacle of joy.

You caught sight of Alexia’s sad expression, and it weighed heavily on you. You moved closer, but she stopped you, forcing a small, fake smile and telling you to celebrate your victory and enjoy the moment.

In that moment, as she lost and you won, she felt like she had lost you too. She had lost herself in you, and now, in defeat, she was determined to find herself again. But rediscovering herself meant letting you go. She had to lose you to find who she was.

[theladyheroine]

🥞 Pancakes 🥞

Movie! Shadow x Platonic! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Cozy, Silly

Word Count: 1,503 words

⚠️ Warning: None, except little embarrassment

Summary: Hi guys! I got excited about my last Shadow fic so I wrote another one! The songs I used are this one & this one btw, but this fic is more casual than the previous one so it’s much shorter too. Inspired by when my Mom recently caught me dancing (lol).

I want to spend my life 

With a girl like you!

Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba,

Faint words filtered through Shadow’s ears as his eyelids fluttered open. It took him a while to fully realize he was awake, but thankfully he didn’t feel too heavy. He rested for a minute before sitting up and scooting over to the bedside. 

It wasn’t very bright, surprisingly. He saw the blinds had been left open and the dark gray sky filtered over the room. Raindrops scattered across glass, making a rhythmic noise, but it felt nice. 

Till that time has come, 

That we might live as one!

Can I dance with you?

Perking up at the cool words, he shuffled his way towards the door and into the hallway. The sound grew louder before Shadow realized it was music playing, and a buttery smell accompanied it. 

Most of the lights were off since it wasn’t exactly dark out, but only one or two yellow lights shone above the kitchen stove. With you moving and swaying there in a very strange manner. Shadow would hardly call it dancing: you were just bobbing up and down, tossing your head and holding a spatula to your face. If he didn’t know you prior he would’ve thought you looked foolish. But you were his friend now, he wasn’t about to judge. 

Girl, why should it be 

That you don't notice me?

“Can I dance with you?— OhmygoshShadow!!"

You yelped loudly as you quickly jolted back, surprised— and embarrassed— to find Shadow standing behind you. Your spatula knocked into a bowl of pancake batter, sending a blob of beige-white goo down to the floor. 

“Ohshoot-sorry! I didn’t see you there bud!” 

“No, I should’ve said something.” 

You rushed to grab a paper towel and swipe the batter off your tiles, but Shadow beat you to it. 

“Nah, it’s all good! I should’ve been paying attention.” You chuckled and grabbed another one, soaking it under the sink then cleaned any excess mush. 

“Is that The Troggs playing?” Shadow asked, tossing the mess into the trash can. 

You quickly lowered the stove temperature and nodded, “Yup! They’re awesome huh! I love their songs.” 

You were about to scoop up some more batter, then paused for a minute. 

“Wait—You know The Troggs?!” You exclaimed, swinging your face back around. 

“Mmhmm,” Shadow nodded. “I’ve heard only one song, until now.”

You gave a mental “huh” before going back to your pancakes. Even hedgehogs had good taste in music. Who knew?

It had been a full month now since Shadow started living with you, and even without teleportation, he still had ways of surprising you.  

You were home all day since it was the weekend, but Shadow had spent most of his time in his room. He usually did; if you weren’t up and about neither was he. In a way, he was like your own little shadow. You never pressed what he did alone, but judging by his expression, he had just woken up from a nap. 

“What are you doing?” Shadow peered over the counter, quills twitching with curiosity.

“Just makin’ some pancakes. They’re a little crispy though.” 

You slid a slightly burnt piece onto a plate. The pretty golden circles stood in a short stack and gave off an amazing smell. You could see Shadow lean closer as his red eyes grew bigger. 

“They’re…pancakes?” He stated his words as if asking a question, but to himself. Which made you curious. 

“Yep! I know it’s weird having breakfast for lunch, but I wanted to make something different this time.” 

“Uh huh.” He drawled. “They smell nice.”

His brows scrunched up and down, spreading more confusion across his face as Shadow watched the pan sizzle. Pancakes seemed like such an alien concept to him, ironically. 

“Shadow?” You asked. “Have you ever had a pancake before?” 

He paused again, but shook his head. “No. Are they any good?”

“Uh–yes!! They’re delicious!” 

To say you were surprised was an understatement: how could he not know about pancakes? 

Until the realization hit you that he probably hasn’t even seen pancakes before. You didn’t know where Shadow came from, and have avoided mentioning it in the past. Even after you became friends. In all that time spent together, you hardly knew a thing about him. And he still seemed reluctant to share. 

Movement shook you from your daze as Shadow picked up your spatula, poking the goo in the bowl like a little kid. His story would have to wait for another day. Your top priority: showing him the best brunch ever. 

Life could be a dream! Life could be a dream!

Do do do do, SH-Boom!

Your phone quickly changed its tune as The Chords started playing. It couldn’t have picked a more perfect song. 

“Why don’t you give this a try Shadow!” You scooted the pan closer to him, turning off the heat and switching it to the other side. 

“Me?” He fumbled with the spatula. 

“Yea, why not! Don’t worry I’ll help you.” You gave a cheeky grin, “Besides, it’ll be fun to learn. Right?”

Shadow opened his mouth to reply, but shut it quickly. You had always made meals for him, or either helped him make them. Even when you were gone there’d always be something from the previous night, or wrapped up in plastic. 

But you had a point, he couldn’t rely on you for everything. Especially now. If he was going to stay, he’d have to start pulling his weight around. 

“Alright,” He tugged back his gloves and set himself behind the stove. “I’m ready.”

You poured a cup of batter into the pan. For such a serious character, he looked so adorable.

You two waited for a few minutes before you set your hand on his arm, helping him flip the pancake to the other side. It shifted a little, making tiny splatters, but the color was perfect. For the second one you let him do it himself, and it looked far better than the first.

Life could be a dream! SH-Boom!

If I could take you to a paradise up above,

SH-Boom! And tell me darling, 

“I’m the only one that you love!” You shimmied back and forth to the music as Shadow continued to pour and flip the batter. 

For a first timer he was doing incredibly well! Fast even; his pancakes came out looking far better than yours! To which Shadow claimed could only come natural to him. You shot a surprised look, but you were happy seeing him loosen up. After a little while, Shadow even joined in your silly dance moves. His shoes tapped along to the beat, and you could see his body bouncing as he mouthed the lyrics. You tried giving him a little bump of encouragement, til he stopped and looked at you strangely. 

“Wow!” You coughed, “You’re really getting the hang of this bud.” 

Shadow rolled his eyes but he kept smiling. “Thanks. This is..easier than I expected.” 

After a short while, you two had a full stack of pancakes. You quickly shut off the stove and tossed the bowl into the sink. Maneuvering the food to the countertop, you pulled out two little plates. You were about to grab the butter, but Shadow beat you once again. 

“Can I do it?” The container looked so small in his big hands. 

You nodded and found a plastic knife in the drawers. Leaving Shadow to butter the pancakes while you looked for the syrup. 

You came back from the pantry with a tall bottle in your hands, and to say Shadow was amazed was a clear understatement. The light in his eyes when the dark syrup trickled down the edible tower was enough to brighten any room. 

You two settled at the table, plates in hand. Meals were typically had together nowadays, but each time it felt different somehow. Shadow had come a long way, going from a worrisome little thing to a happy hedgehog! And you couldn’t be prouder.

“‘Kay bud, dig in!” You pushed your fork into the food and Shadow did the same, cutting it into bite sized pieces. 

Everything seemed normal, until after a few bites Shadow stopped. He just sat there, chewing, but his expression quickly changed. It wasn't confusion, more like—a blank expression? 

“Shadow?” You said through your food. “You doin’ okay there?”

Oh how you hoped he didn’t grab the burnt one.

In an instant, Shadow took a larger piece and shoved it in his mouth. He only half chewed before doing the same thing. He did this three more times and it took him about a minute to finish half the plate. 

Syrup coated his mouth, and he swallowed hard before speaking. “You were right. Pancakes are the superior choice.” 

That was all he said before stuffing his face again. 

“Yea-I-erm—yea! Well, I’m glad you like them!” 

You rushed over to sink and grabbed a cup of water. Thinking next time, you should just make eggs instead.

❣️—THE END—❣️

[honeyryewhiskey]

when dean falls in love

or, all the little details that run through dean's mind when he's falling in love. and all the fears and self-doubt that come crashing down on him. warnings ! a pinch of angst | mostly feel good | kissing | confessions | dean admiring reader | dean's internal struggles | reader being patient | sam third wheeling j's note ! this is my apology for that sad one i posted last night. also, i had little baby 26-year-old dean in mind for this one. enjoy <3 5k words

Few rules exist in Dean’s life—most are made to be bent, broken, or ignored altogether. But you?

You’re the exception. You’re the rule he refuses to cross.

You are entirely off-limits.

Not that you seem to care. You crashed into the Winchesters' world like a wildfire, all sharp eyes and steady hands, showing up guns blazing in the middle of a nasty hunt. There was no slow introduction, no time for cautious trust. One minute, it was just another night, another hunt—then suddenly, there you were, standing in the wreckage, breathing heavily, covered in blood that wasn’t yours.

Dean should’ve known to let go right then and there—you were too good to be true. But he didn’t. Instead, you stuck to the corners of his mind like sugar between his teeth, sweet and relentless. Your energy, raw and electric, burned through everything around you. You invaded his thoughts, wrapped around his mind like a constant hum.

You were the kind of girl who made a man forget his own damn rules.

At first, Dean tells himself this newfound trio is temporary.

You’re a lone wolf, and the Winchesters don’t do long-term attachments. But somehow, you weave yourself into their lives like you’ve always belonged.

You slip into the passenger seat of the Impala without waiting for an invitation, kicking your feet up on the dash just to piss him off. You steal fries off his plate like it’s second nature, smirking when he glares at you but never stopping. You roll your eyes at his bravado, call him out when he’s being an ass, and yet—when it matters—you’re always there. Ready to fight. Ready to bleed for this life, for them.

For him.

Dean tells himself he doesn’t notice the little things. The way you hum along to his rock tapes like you’ve known them forever, how your hands—so much softer than he deserves—patch him up without hesitation. The way you meet his teasing with just as much fire, never backing down.

None of it means anything.

Because it can’t.

Not when he’s always been too rough, too jagged around the edges to hold onto something as good as you. Somewhere around his twentieth birthday, he made peace with the fact that he was cursed—fated to be nothing more than a soldier, a brother, a blade meant for war.

Being anything else, wanting anything more—wanting you—would only end in tragedy.

But then he catches Sam talking to you in hushed voices over coffee in the morning, like you’re family. As if every diner table and wobbly motel kitchenette was always meant to sit the three of you. He watches you clean his gun without being asked, like it’s second nature now. He hears your voice on the other end of his phone at 3 a.m., always answering when he calls, asking if he’s okay after a rough hunt. 

And just like that, you’re in. You’re a part of them.

A part of him.

And that? That’s the most dangerous thing of all.

Dean doesn’t know when it happened—when the lines started to blur, when the rule he swore by turned into something fragile, something breakable.

Maybe it’s the way you slip so effortlessly into their lives, settling into the spaces he didn’t even realize were empty—mediating brotherly arguments like you were always meant to be their missing piece. Maybe it’s the sound of your laughter, bright and unshaken, slicing through the heaviness of a bad hunt. Or maybe it’s the way you look at him, like he’s something more than the scars, more than the sharp edges—like he’s worth seeing at all.

Or maybe it’s the small moments like this.

The diner is warm, buzzing with the quiet hum of conversation, the clatter of silverware against plates. Sam’s focus is his laptop, half-listening to whatever you’re saying as you flip through the menu, sitting beside Dean, debating tonight’s meal. Dean’s trying to keep up, trying to ground himself in the normalcy of it all.

And then, without a second thought, you reach for his jacket.

It’s been draped over the back of the booth since he sat down, familiar and worn, carrying the weight of long nights and too many miles. And you just take it, slipping your arms through the sleeves, tugging the collar up like it belongs to you.

Dean’s fingers tighten around the menu.

It’s nothing new—he’s handed it over a dozen times before, thrown it around your shoulders without a second thought on cold nights. But this? This is different. You didn’t ask. Didn’t even hesitate. You just did it, like it was instinct, like it was yours.

He clears his throat, trying to force down the feeling clawing its way up his chest. “Comfy?”

You hum, settling into the fabric, your fingers curling into the sleeves. “Mmhmm.” Your voice is light, easy. “You always run so warm. Thought I’d steal a little of that.”

Dean swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. Prying his eyes off of you, he tries again to look like he’s reading the menu. Scanning the small font, even though he’s already decided on a burger and fries like he always gets. 

Across from him, Sam sighs, clicking at his keyboard. “You guys do realize you act like a couple, right?”

Dean shoots him a glare. “Shut up.”

Your laugh falls out sweet and quiet, the sound pressing against his heart with a persistence to make it move faster. Your boot nudges Dean’s under the table, and he takes it as an excuse to look at you again. “You jealous, Sammy? Want me to steal your jacket next?”

Dean barely hears the response. He watches as you burrow further into his jacket, your nose dipping beneath the collar. Then, with that same mischievous glint in your eye that always spells trouble for him, you lift the collar to make a show of taking a slow, exaggerated sniff.

His brows press down, lashes forming a tight squint around his eyes as he braces himself, “What the hell are you doing?”

Your lips twitch like you’re holding back a laugh. “One thing about this old jacket, though,” you muse, taking another thoughtful inhale. “There’s this metallicy smell… buried under all that cologne you drown this poor leather in.”

Dean scoffs, shifting in his seat and turning his head to save himself from letting you see the pink creeping up his cheeks. “I do not drown it in cologne.”

Sam doesn’t even look up from his laptop, but his chuckle doesn’t help ease Dean’s embarrassment. “You kinda do.”

Dean’s head shoots up, tilting slightly as he glares at his brother. You’re already grinning, undeterred, your fingers lazily tracing the worn seam of the sleeve. “It’s faint, but it’s there. Like… gunpowder. And whiskey, I would assume. And maybe a little bit of blood?” Your teasing gaze flicks up to meet his, “What have you been getting into, Winchester?”

Dean should play it cool. Shrug it off. But he can feel his ears burning red and hot from that little teasing smile on your lips and his brain is a few steps behind, caught somewhere between you’re too damn close and when did this get so hard to ignore?

He leans back, arms crossing over his chest. His mind makes quick work to steady buzzing nerves, “Dunno what to tell ya, sweetheart,” he sighs, jaw popping as he finds his barings, “That jacket’s seen more action than you have.”

You feign offense, pressing a hand to your chest. “Wow. First, you over-season your leather, and now you’re just slinging insults?” You shake your head, dramatic as ever. “I thought we had something special, D.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Yeah, yeah. You done sniffin’ my jacket, or should I be concerned?”

You huff, settling back against the booth so that your arms brush against each other when you shrug. “I dunno. Might need another whiff.”

Dean points a warning finger at you, his smile breaks his attempt at stoicism, and all it does is make you grin wider.

Sam lets out another long-suffering sigh, shutting his laptop with a little more force than necessary. “I’m concerned. And I’m officially done with this conversation.”

You smirk, smug as ever, but Dean? Dean’s just trying to pretend he’s not completely, stupidly gone for you.

The rest of dinner passes in easy conversation—at least, for you. Dean is quieter than usual, letting you and Sam fill the space between bites of food and stolen fries. He tries to focus on anything else—the chipped laminate of the table, the hum of the old diner lights, the way his fingers tap absently against the side of his glass.

Mostly, he tries not to look at you.

Not when you lean forward, chin propped in your palm, laughing at something Sam says. Not when you nudge his boot under the table, stealing the last bite of his pie with a satisfied little smirk. Not when you adjust the lapels of his leather jacket like it’s yours now, like it belongs to you the way he does.

By the time the check hits the table, he’s still got too many thoughts in his head, and none of them are ones he should be having.

Outside, the night air is crisp, the motel’s flickering vacancy sign glowing just across the lot. Sam mutters something about research and trudges off toward their shared room, leaving the two of you lingering by the diner’s door.

Dean shoves his hands into his pockets, suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet it is. You shift on your feet, then tilt your head toward the motel.

“What’s it gonna be tonight, D?” Your voice is soft, slipping into the quiet like it belongs there. “You sticking around for a bit, or heading to bed?”

Dean exhales, shaking his head. “Gotta make sure you get in safe.”

Your laugh rings through the empty parking lot, light and easy, curling around him like warmth against the cool night air. And despite only wearing a flannel, despite the late hour and the breeze whispering through the lot, he feels nothing but warm.

“Ah, yes,” you tease between giggles, nudging his arm. “My knight in shining armor, always keeping me safe.”

The short walk across the lot is quiet but never empty—the kind of silence that lingers in the spaces between you, comfortable and charged all at once.

At your door, you unlock it with a flick of your wrist, pushing it open before leaning lazily against the frame. The dim motel light catches the amusement in your eyes as you glance back at him.

“See?” You gesture to the empty room with a grin. “All’s quiet on the western front.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves you off, stepping inside without a second thought, the door clicking shut behind him.

You move past him with easy familiarity, shuffling through your things while Dean leans against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. He watches as you slip into your usual routine—kicking off your shoes, pulling your hair back, stifling a yawn with the sleeve of your sweater. His jacket, draped over the chair beside your bed, stays untouched. He doesn’t move to take it. If he’s honest, he kind of hopes you’ll sleep in it. Let it take on your scent instead of his.

When you return from the bathroom, fresh-faced and sighing contentedly, you crawl onto the bed and sit cross-legged, flipping absentmindedly through an old paperback—the one you grabbed from the library when you were supposed to be researching.

“You gonna tell me what’s got you so deep in thought tonight?” you break into the silence without looking up, voice soft but knowing.

Dean huffs, tipping his head back. He’s trying to find something other than you to look at, he’s gotta stop watching you so often. “I’m always deep in thought.”

You snort, “yeah, okay. Sure.”

Your eyes flicker over him, he’s always following you into your room like a stray pup, like he doesn’t know where else to go. He lingers in your space, but is careful to maintain a set distance. At first you thought he was trying to claim you as another notch on his bedpost, but all that ever happened on these nights were quiet talks until your eyes grew too heavy to keep open. And by morning, you’d be alone, tucked beneath the blankets like someone made sure they were pulled around you just right.

You watch him for a beat, noting the familiar tension winding through his shoulders. “Seriously, though. You were kinda out of it at dinner.”

Dean hesitates, glancing away like he can pretend he didn’t hear you. His eyes settle on the peeling motel wallpaper, tracing the cracks like they hold some kind of answer. He hadn’t planned on sticking around this late—not when his head is already full of you. Not when it’s dangerous for the sanctity his carefully drawn lines to be near you like this, feeling the way he does.

But neither of you move. You, cross-legged on the bed, book in hand. Him, still leaning against the dresser, pretending he has somewhere else to be.

He should make an excuse, crack a joke, steer this conversation somewhere safer. But your voice, soft and steady, tugs at something in him. And instead of fighting it, he lets himself lean in.

“You ever think about what happens when we stop?”

Your fingers still against the worn pages of your book. “Stop what?”

“This.” He gestures vaguely, like that explains everything. “The hunting, the moving around. All of it.”

Your brows furrow slightly as you consider his words, the weight of them pressing down in a way you don’t want to acknowledge. This life—it’s far from glamorous, but it’s all you’ve got. Stepping away from it is a thought you buried long ago, a fantasy that never had a chance. You shrug, pushing the thought aside. “I don’t know,” you say quietly. “Never really let myself think about it too much.”

Dean exhales a heavy breath, eyes dropping to the floor like the weight of your words is sinking in. “Yeah.”

A beat of quiet settles between you. It’s not uncomfortable, but there’s a weight to it that presses against Dean’s chest, making the space feel tighter than it is. You can feel his tension, like he’s holding something back, but he doesn’t look up.

Then, you shift, breaking the silence with an easy gesture—a pat to the empty space beside you on the bed. “Don’t just trail off on me, D. Sit down. Tell me more.”

Dean hesitates for a split second. This is a bad idea. It’s an invisible line he’s been toeing for too damn long, one he’s tried not to cross—never sit on the bed, never get too close when we’re alone. But then again, it’s you. You’re looking at him like you care, soft and patient, as if whatever’s inside his head actually matters.

And just like that, he gives in. One little exception, just for tonight.

With a quiet sigh, he pushes off the dresser, settling beside you on the bed. He stretches his legs out, but the small mattress makes it impossible to keep any real distance. His legs brush against yours, and his arm brushes yours too. He hopes to hell you don’t see the flush creeping up his neck.

If you notice, you don’t mention it. There’s no teasing, no playful smile—just the quiet comfort of your presence beside him. You don’t push, don’t pry. You just sit there, calm and steady, waiting for him to speak.

“I dunno,” he mutters, “just been thinkin’ lately. About what it all looks like when it’s over. If it ever is.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “And?”

Dean swallows, debating how much to say. How much to admit.

“And… I don’t see much of anything.” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Spent my whole life doing this, I don’t see an ending where I’m not dying at the hands of this. Y’know, going down in the fight.”

You’re quiet for a moment, then—so softly he almost doesn’t notice—you shift closer, your arm snaking its way around his. You’re snuggled right up next to him, watching with careful eyes.

“There will always be monsters to hunt,” you murmur, your voice soft yet steady in the dim room. “But you don’t have to be a warrior forever, D. There will always be hunters, too. Doesn’t mean you have to be one.”

Dean chuckles, but it’s a hollow sound, more an exhale than a laugh. His gaze drifts toward the bedspread, unable to meet yours. "Yeah, well... I don't know if I could just walk away." His words come out quieter, like he’s unsure if he’s talking to you or to himself.

You turn slightly toward him, noticing the tension still coiled in his shoulders. The quiet settles deeper now, heavier with each passing moment, but he doesn’t seem to notice the distance between your words.

“What’s got you thinking about all of this?” you keep your voice light, though there’s a weight to it.

Dean rubs the back of his neck, his thoughts at war with the words he wants to say. "I can’t have the things I want, not really," he finally admits, the confession slipping out before he can second-guess it. His gaze drifts to the side, and his fingertips come up almost absentmindedly, dragging across your temple, pushing stray hairs back into their place.

“This life," he continues, barely above a whisper, "it consumes all the good things in my life."

“Not true,” your voice is firm but gentle, like you’re trying to remind him of something he can’t see.

He doesn’t answer immediately, just quirks a skeptical brow at you.

“You have your brother,” you continue, “and you’ve got me. Nothing in this universe can take us from you.”

Dean’s breath catches, and for the briefest moment, he wonders if you understand just how much weight those words hold. He swallows, trying to hold it together, but he can’t ignore the ache that creeps up his spine. He gives a small, almost rueful chuckle, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "What makes you so sure?"

You meet his gaze with a steady confidence. "Because I know you wouldn’t let it."

His hand lingers by your face, his thumb brushing softly against the warmth of your cheek. There’s an electricity in the touch, something that feels too close and yet too natural. He can feel the way his pulse quickens, how much his body wants to close that last inch of space between you. But he doesn’t.

You don’t push him. You just watch him, like you’re waiting for him to decide whether to take the step—or to retreat.

Dean’s breath catches in his throat, and his eyes drop to your lips for a moment before meeting yours again, like he’s trying to reconcile the gravity of what he’s feeling. His voice drops to almost a whisper, his words thick with something raw. “You have no idea how right you are, little miss.”

Your hand comes up, curling over his with a quiet, deliberate touch. The softness of your skin against his makes it almost impossible for him to remember the times he’s watched you move through the world—handling a gun with precision or a blade like it’s second nature. Most of you makes him forget, really, about everything that doesn’t involve you in this moment.

Your warmth, your softness, it makes him lose himself in daydreams of a version of you—one that doesn’t belong to this life. A version where you’d lean into that gentleness, the part of you that exists outside the hunts and the danger, in a life far away from the chaos that haunts him.

You shift, sitting up, still keeping your gaze on him, and it makes something in his chest tighten. The determined strain in your features catches his attention immediately. It’s the same look you get when you're deep into a lore book, your brow furrowed with that little scowl—like something has piqued your interest, and you won’t rest until you’ve unraveled it completely.

“Dean, there’s more to this than you’re letting on.”

He shakes his head, trying to brush it off with a quick, dismissive shrug, his lips pouting up into his best attempt at nonchalance. “Nope. That’s pretty much it.”

You let out an exasperated huff, and Dean can tell you’re seeing straight through him. It’s not enough to deflect you. What he doesn’t expect, though, is the rough shove to his shoulder. It makes him blink in surprise, but before he can recover, your fingers press right back into the tension of his muscles he’s been trying to ignore all night.

“You’re as stiff as a board,” you point out, your fingers digging in a little harder. “Something’s bothering you.”

His breath comes out shakier now, and for a moment, his whole body feels like it’s been wound too tight. You can feel it, he knows you can. There’s no denying it now, but the words feel too heavy in his throat. He wants to argue, to brush it off again, but something in the way you’re watching him shifts. It’s not just curiosity anymore—it’s concern. And maybe, just maybe, a part of him wants to let you in.

But damn if it doesn’t feel like a risk.

Dean shifts uncomfortably, trying to pull away, but the pressure of your fingers is a subtle anchor, keeping him there. His gaze flits to the floor, anywhere but your eyes, because once he looks at you, he knows he won’t be able to hide.

"I told you, it's nothing," he mutters, his voice rougher than usual, the words escaping before he can stop them. He tries to push himself up, but the weight of your stare presses him back down.

You don’t buy it. You never do.

"No, Dean," you start softly, the concern clear in your voice, "I know you better than that. Something’s been eating at you for a while, and you’re not gonna keep dodging it."

His chest tightens, his heart racing in his ribcage. Every part of him wants to throw up some wall, some excuse. Something to keep you from seeing the rawness of what’s inside. The vulnerability he’s been running from his entire life.

But still, you watch him, waiting, your eyes steady and unwavering.

"Come on, just let it out," you press, your hand moving to his shoulder again, your touch gentle now but insistent. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself, you know?”

He swallows hard, his jaw tightening, hands suddenly restless at his sides. The fight inside him is crumbling, piece by piece, until he's barely holding on to whatever's left. His voice comes out strained, almost desperate.

“Please, just drop it,” he grinds out, his eyes briefly meeting yours before flicking away again, helplessly. “I’m fine. You don’t... you don’t need to know all of it.”

You sit forward, leaning in just a little, your hand still gently gripping his arm as you search his face. The determination in your gaze doesn’t waver, but there’s something softer there now, almost like a plea. “Dean—”

He jerks back slightly, suddenly standing up with a bit too much force, the air between you thickening with a tension that’s making it harder for him to breathe. He takes a few steps away, running a hand through his hair, his back turned to you as he tries to calm the storm rising inside.

"I can’t do this," he mutters, his voice low, rougher now, like it’s been dragged over gravel. His shoulders still tense with the weight of the world pressing down on him.

You’re silent for a beat, and he knows it’s because you’re giving him space. But he also knows you won’t stop until you get him to say what he’s been holding back.

He exhales sharply, his hands trembling as he clenches them into fists, his back still turned, fighting a battle he knows he’s losing. "God, I don’t want to talk about this." His voice cracks slightly as he says it, and he hates how much it betrays him.

His eyes flick to you then, and there's a crack in the armor—a vulnerability that’s almost painful to see. He looks at you, but he’s not sure he can bear the weight of your gaze anymore. Not when all he wants to do is keep you safe from the wreckage inside him.

His body is coiled tight, but his chest feels like it’s going to implode. He wants to walk away. He wants to escape from the weight of this conversation, from the way you're looking at him like you’re waiting for him to finally crack open and spill it all out.

But when he finally turns back to face you fully, all he sees is that unflinching patience, that quiet insistence that you’re not going to let him go until he finally says what he’s been hiding for so long. It makes him want to burn every rule he’s built for himself.

"You don't get it," he spats roughly, eyes flicking to the floor. "I can’t just... say it. It’s part of me, it’s who I am, this thing that I can’t get away from."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room in one smooth motion. There’s no anger in your steps—just a calm resolve that cuts through the tension between you like a knife.

"I'm not an idiot, Dean," you peek up at him, unfamilarly timid as you cross this uncharted territory. "I see the way you look at me. Hell, at first I thought I was imagining things but I can see it’s eating you alive. And I—” your words cut off in your own shock at the confession, the sincerity in your expression making his knees weak, “I can’t bear to see you like this.” 

Your hands reach up tentatively, like you’re scared he’ll tear himself away again. But he stills, letting your warm hands press into either side of his jaw, “you’re my rock, alright?” your words trail into a soft laugh, easing the tension of your own truth. “I don’t wanna live in a world where I’m not by your side, because you make life worth the fight to stay alive. But you can’t just keep me in the dark, I have to know what you’re feeling.” 

His breath catches in his throat, the weight of your words hitting him harder than he expected. The realization that you know, that you’ve seen through all his defenses, makes everything inside him ache.

"I don’t know what you want from me," it comes out sounding like a plea, still looking for an excuse to retreat into himself.

"I want you to stop hiding from me." Your words are simple, but they strike right at the heart of the matter. "I want you to stop pretending like you can’t have the one thing you want most."

His throat tightens, and he shakes his head, trying to dismiss it. "I don’t get it," he mumbles, though his eyes are locked on yours, searching for the reprieve he still doesn’t believe he’ll find. "I don’t... I’m not fit for this."

"I’m not either, D. I’m just asking you to let it happen." You’re so close now, he can feel the warmth of your body, the soft pressure of your fingers against his jaw. Your gaze doesn’t break, it never wavers.

And that’s when it hits him. He’s been afraid of this—afraid of the way you make him feel like he can finally breathe, like all of his pain and avoidance can cease in your presence. he’s been holding himself together with tattered shreds for so long, and you’re the only thing that’s strong enough to pull him out of the mess he’s made of himself. 

And letting that security live in someone else terrifies him more than any monster he’s faced. 

“I’m not perfect,” he admits quietly, his words like gravel in his throat. “I’m broken, and I’m scared as hell, but god, if you only knew how much I want—”

You stop him with a soft kiss, the sweetest touch of your lips to his. It's gentle, almost hesitant, but it shatters something inside him, enough to freeze him in place. The weight of everything unspoken presses in, and for the first time, it feels like the walls he's built around himself might finally crumble in your hands.

The chains of his tightly kept composure snap at the delicate pressure of your lips, and without thinking, his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. His hands find purchase at your waist, holding you as if you were the only thing that kept him grounded. The kiss deepens, desperate, as if he's trying to kiss away the years of holding back, the silent fear of letting you see the real him, the uncertainty of if you’d stay with him in the wreckage.

When you finally pull back, your lips linger just above his, breaths mingling. Your voice is a soft whisper, but it cuts through the tension like a thread being pulled taut. “Then say it, Dean. Tell me what you want.”

His heart beats in his chest, loud and frantic, as his walls come crashing down, piece by piece. He can’t think straight with you in his arms, all of his steely armor melts at your touch. And for the first time in what feels like forever, he lets go of some of those fears.

His eyes are nearly consumed by his pupils as he takes in the sight of you slightly out of breath, lips wet and a little more pink. From his doing, from his touch—it makes every broken rule worth the trouble.

“I've fallen for you, Sweetheart,” he breathes, his voice is raw, shaky, but it's honest, every word carrying the weight of what he’s been holding back. “I want to keep falling for you, love and all that crap. And I’m terrified of it, but I can’t keep hiding this from you.”

Your thumb brushes over his cheek, the gesture soft, but nevertheless, grounding. A quiet smile tugs at the corner of your lips, and your eyes hold nothing but certainty. “You’ll never have to hide any part of yourself, Dean. I’ve been here all along, with nothing but love. Just been waiting for you to see that.”

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @snowluvvie @dulcescorderitas @bluemerakis

[veryextraincorrectfegbaquotes]

Sad Shanna Lore won the poll so now I present to you the text that explains that one thing age said while beating Ain with a chair!

To say it all changed when he died would be inaccurate. Him dying had just further entrenched things. Shanna had already been feeling minimised, underestimated and babied. She was naturally meek, shy and soft-spoken, and on top of all that she was the youngest of four sisters. The only way to avoid being babied would be to run away, and Shanna would never have the guts to do that. Well, she'd have the guts, but not the lack of sense to try to strike out on her own in a small town. Could she get set up? Sure, there'd be folk nice enough to give her a place. Could she avoid her family? No way in hell.

What sealed her away as shouting on the inside only was when her father died. He'd been a poor father, to say the least, but being handed a divorce made him realise what he'd been taking for granted, and made him desperate to reconnect with his family. But Fiora, Farina and Tate had all chosen their stance, and it was that they wanted nothing more to do with him. But Shanna was too young and too kind to a fault to genuinely hate him. So he brought everything he had to reconnecting with her. Days out, short trips, everything he could manage. It was the happiest she'd been in ages, since he kept bringing her to new places where she could try her hand at things. Winning at carnival games, going on the biggest roller-coasters, sitting in the splash zone. They were her efforts, her choices, hers.

Then he died. It was a mundane thing, slipped at home, hit his head on the edge of a counter, nobody there to call for help, closed his eyes and never opened them again. For everyone in Shanna's family except her, it was a morbid convenience. A drawn out divorce involving a man they wanted nothing to do with was suddenly tidied up. They could wash their hands of him, and so they did. They assumed Shanna felt the same. Assumed she'd just been humouring him, meek little Shanna too shy to tell him no. They didn't go to his funeral. So no-one could take Shanna. They never even imagined she might want to go. Too sad an affair for someone as emotional as her, they reasoned.

Who could she talk to about this? Tell her family that the man they could never love again she'd learned to love? Not forgive, but still see value in? Someone to cry over in private? Someone all the photos of had been thrown out, except the few she had snagged and hidden? They hated him. She couldn't say they were wrong to hate him, he'd earned it. But she didn't hate him. She didn't hate anyone. She hated conflict. So she withdrew yet further, spending her time alone. Her dear sisters would only see her as their baby sister. Her mother would only see her as her baby girl. Did anybody see Her? Was it only when she looked in the mirror? Was it ever?

With no-one to talk to, nobody she felt she could be genuine with, and no desire to cause trouble, Shanna could do nothing. She could sit in her room, look at secret photos and write in secret diaries, while away hours reading scary stories and watching scary videos to remind her she was alive. Was she depressed? How could she tell? If she was, what would it matter? Who would she tell, what would she do. Stay quiet, stay out of the way, say Hi with a smile, do your chores and a bit extra to show you care, stay in your room so you don't spend more time than you have to feeling like your family is condescending you. One day into the next into the next, look out the window at night and wonder if anyone else feels like this, put your hand against the glass, hoping a bit of your warmth can reach them if they're out there, get a bit scared from staring out into the darkness. Night into day, day into night, what day is it? Doesn't matter. Nothing can keep earnest little Shanna down, she's anxious and scared but does her best! It's not wrong, but it's not everything.

Go on forums and never say anything. Go in chatrooms and don't type. It doesn't feel real, but what does? Day in, day out. Have I seen this video before? Are they all blending together? No matter, watch it again, it's not real anyway. Say Hi with a smile, do your chores and a bit extra to show you care, go to the town wall just to look out at the forest, imagine going there at night, it'd be so scary but so alive. Does the tree falling alone in the forest at least own the thud it makes? Ride your pegasus, imagine just flying in a direction and not stopping until you hit the ground. Where would you end up? Would the sky look different, there? Is emptiness less lonely than feeling like nobody sees you? Does any of it matter out there, with nobody else in sight or sound? Day in, day out.

Get dragged out of your room, told to make a friend. Push back, you're tired of always acquiescing, emptiness is comfortable now. Meet someone, she's different from you, but also seem to want to get away from everyone in the world for a while. You feel like there would be comfortable, but still not yours. She feels like she'd belong there, like a proud stone pillar, like Stonehenge. Maybe you could learn from her? Is this being friends? Being with her makes you happier, it'd been a while. She's protective, but not to a degree that makes you want to go somewhere else. She doesn't bar you from things, if you say you want to try she hangs back as you try. She's harsh, not as harsh as she is to others but still enough to make it feel like she knows you can handle it. Her name is Clarine. She's your best friend.

Day in, day out. Go spend the day with her, both of you want nothing else. Go out walking, go have picnics, go to her place that's small but being so close to her makes your heart flutter. Smile brightly, hurry through your chores but still doing a bit extra to show you care, almost skip out the door to see your friend, tell her stories about the things you do without her, she listens and questions, doesn't just pat your head and call you cute. Day in, day out, always something to look forward to. Look at the photos, wonder what it would've been like if they'd met. Only look at them though, not staring. Don't stay up late, lots to do tomorrow. Go on an adventure, do things that matter that only you are trusted to do. Everything has changed and it's all getting better. Still not time to tell her about the past, but it's not as important anymore.

[obscureother]

the noobie f/o gets his turn now. uvu

good thing i made gifs for him til 5 in the morning the night before i worked on this one.

What do your f/o's hugs feel like? depends on what form he's in, though theyre normally cold and cozy -v- he gives ghost hugs too but theyre different from aethelwolf. he gives good hugs tho :0 good tight ones you know he'll keep you in. .

What are your favorite dates to have with them? i love the rain walks with himb. . no umbrella, only hoodie and rain <33 he looks pretty when water goes through him cos he looks all flowy and misty (more than normal tho :0) s/i 1's most favorite thing however was and probably always will be just him taking her to touch big ben. dont tell the bobbies fsdsd-

What are their favorite dates to have with you? he likes to go on car rides! theyre more like adventure joy rides rather than going fast on the road for sake of going fast on a road (more of a barry thing that is-) but he will straight chitty chitty bang-bang a car with s/i 1. scares the heck out of her cos bb is afraid of heights, but he likes holding her and makes sure she doesn't get too nervous to enjoy the view he gives her. he does like showing off a little, but he doesn't want to terrorize her kjfsd- he likes to go on rooftops most. like, park the car. . on the roof top. or close to the building and get s/i 1 up there himself by carrying her there lol.

Do you have any songs that remind you of them? Do they have any songs that make them think of you? i have a couple, but he is very new so as of the post, i havent had the time to look for them. . but i do like "Uptown Girl" by Billy Joel and i recently found the cutest little diddy by Jill Whitney, "My Friend the Ghost." im looking for more songs for him too!!

What's the height difference between you and your f/o? he is one of my shorter f/os but only by a few inches. He is 5'7", so he is only uhh 4 inches or so taller than me or s/i 1. <:

On a 1-10 scale, with 1 being the least and 10 being the most, how much do they like PDA with you? He is pretty okay. Depends on his mood i think. sometimes he can be very clingy and goofy for kisses wherever we go, but other times he is just very casual. I would give uhh. . 5.5/10 probably, but he does hold hands a lot. uvu

What's your favorite feature about your f/o? On the headcanons ive got for him from me and my friend, it would be when his eyes glow. . On normal/canon version, i like his little dark curls on his forehead or his little floppy hat. . <33

What do you think they smell like? dust, and dirt clouds :)) He's just a ghost. Maybe the bar sometimes, though mostly just dust and dirt clouds unless he uses spooky ghost magic to change it otherwise. Sometimes he smells like rain though. . or rocks. Or rained on rocks.

What is your f/os biggest love languages? They don't have to be one of the "five", it can be anything specific they use to show you love. He gives lots of little gifts. Things he is too shy to give in person sometimes but you find them on your pillow or in your pocket somewhere. Little things of him wanting to be noticed or trying to express something he is too shy to give. . He is one of my exceptions for flowers. . I don't know if this one is a love language per se, but an indicator he wants your attention is also sometimes doing, showing, or giving you cool things that he does or gets a hold of. He likes you, he wants you to think he's neat. Joey is always cool, though. <3

Do you guys sleep in the same bed? If so, what's it like sleeping with them? yes, sometimes he does sleep with me <: he gives good ghost cuddles. other times he floats over the bed and just vibes, talking to me until we (or just me or s/i 1) fall asleep. he loves to cuddle or hug tho cos living people are w a r m b h.

What's your favorite headcanon about your f/o? When he "dies" twice, i think is very goofy. He does silly things like float around like a balloon as it is, but this particular scenario is when he gets so excited that his heart beats too fast for his dead/ghost form to keep up with and it like stops suddenly and he sort of goes "eH-" and then floats off like. . unconsciously almost, his eyes go empty looking and he just hovers for a bit til he's done rebooting lol.

What is the dynamic that you and your f/o have? spooky ghost buddy with living bestie uvu i dont know if there really is much of a dynamic, we're just goofy together. he tries so hard to get s/i 1's attention tho and she is just completely oblivious until one day it just gets shoved in her face, so there is kind of a comedic thing there, but that's the only trope i can think of. ghost boy constantly trying to get living girl to realize he likes her. like old cartoons type goofy.

What does your f/o do for you when you're having a rough day? he tries to be silly. . get me to think of other things. other times tho, he sits quiet with me and holds me to talk through it or other things. he knows how to just be sad sometimes. he will also sometimes sing little old songs from like way long ago, before-records long ago, and he lets the echo kind of throb through other thoughts. for s/i 1, he is able to kind of. . empathy wave her, holding her and pushing sort of comforting energy to her to soothe or slow her down.

Do you like to hold hands? If so, what's that like? yes omgg he always holds hands :0 he holds them all the time. when theyre not cold ghost hands that feel like your holding vapor, you can barely feel it but its so very comforting, it is like. . just calloused but gentle hands he holds you with. He holds hands all the time bhdjfg <33 he lets me hold him by it like a balloon string.

Do they like to give you little kisses? If so, where is their favorite place to kiss? (Face, hands, etc) yes :0 he likes to be affectionate. he's a little rusty or awkward on it sometimes (especially for s/i 1) cos for a while he wouldnt really talk to people much, much less romantic interests, but once he's comfortable or familiar again, he does like to give kisses on the hands, cheek, or forehead. He does the polite kisses most of the time.

Vice versa, do YOU like to give them little kisses? If so, where is YOUR favorite place to give them? i do love to give him kisses. . he tends to get more jaw and throat or shoulder kisses than the others, but i would kiss anywhere on his cute little face. hold his cheeks, kiss his forehead. . hold him, kiss on his collar bone. . bby. i love himb.

What's your favorite silly leisure activity to do with your f/o? We like to go looking at bugs or rocks or sticks or something :0 Or doing spooky things -v- Decorating, sometimes he draws a little bit of like. . spiders or bats on the things we're doing. . or looking for spooky stuff or messing around at night time. very spooky :0

What is your favorite compliment that your f/o gives you? What is your favorite nickname that they for you, if they have one? Though yes he calls me common British things, he tends to call me "lovey" more specifically. On a lore moment, he calls s/i 1 "Moey" and it kind of sticks a little bit. Not every time, but on occasion he does.

What's your favorite compliment to give THEM? What is your favorite nickname to call them? For now he is mostly just called "jobey" 👉🏻 👈🏻 spooky ghost boy. But i love to tell him how cute he is. I love his glowy eyes and his silly curled hair that isnt "curly" but it has little swoopies, and turning him grape color because I give him kisses or tell him he is adorable baby boy and pinch his cheekses <33

I want everyone to have the chance to ramble about their romantic f/os, so I'm gonna make a reblog game where yall can answer the plethora of questions I'm gonna toss down. Any of the questions you want to answer, as little or as much as you'd like!! I'll read them all. PR.O.SHIP DNI!!! AT ALL! GET OUT-

SO!! SELFSHIPPERS! RIDDLE ME THIS:

What do your f/o's hugs feel like?

What are your favorite dates to have with them?

What are their favorite dates to have with you?

Do you have any songs that remind you of them? Do they have any songs that make them think of you?

What's the height difference between you and your f/o?

On a 1-10 scale, with 1 being the least and 10 being the most, how much do they like PDA with you?

What's your favorite feature about your f/o?

What do you think they smell like?

What is your f/os biggest love languages? They don't have to be one of the "five", it can be anything specific they use to show you love.

Do you guys sleep in the same bed? If so, what's it like sleeping with them?

What's your favorite headcanon about your f/o?

What is the dynamic that you and your f/o have?

What does your f/o do for you when you're having a rough day?

Do you like to hold hands? If so, what's that like?

Do they like to give you little kisses? If so, where is their favorite place to kiss? (Face, hands, etc)

Vice versa, do YOU like to give them little kisses? If so, where is YOUR favorite place to give them?

What's your favorite silly leisure activity to do with your f/o?

What is your favorite compliment that your f/o gives you? What is your favorite nickname that they for you, if they have one?

What's your favorite compliment to give THEM? What is your favorite nickname to call them?

Okay I can't wait to see some answers!! Feel free to reblog as many times with as many f/os as you want. ANYONE CAN PARTICIPATE! SEEING THIS POST IS AN INVITATION FOR YOU!!

People I'd like to see answer this off the top of my head (but don't have to!!): @moxanji-real @one-winged-dreams @lovesickvalentines @graveluvr @clawingatmy-enclosure @starshakez @jpeg-indulgence @everynya @tropgothships @selfshipping-tboy @amelielovesamaris @pixel-comfort @fl0ralsxgar

[kpopsexstories]

One-shot #20: NCT Jisung "Mind Blowing" Sex with Haechan's Sister Pt. 1/3

This is the 20th story of my broader Mixed One-shots series. It's a response to this request: "Can I request a story about NCT Jisung having sex with Haechan sister, but these days Jisung is more experienced and better, which leads to mind-blowing sex. (This is loosely related to Jisung's mmse story.)Please!!"

Celebrity: NCT Jisung

Sex Content: Intense foreplay, Getting naked together, Licking/eating pussy.

Type of Sex: MEDIUM

Word Count: 3.3k (8.6k including all three parts)

This is Part 1 of 3 which includes some great and intense foreplay. Part 2 will be posted tomorrow (February 4, 2025) and that's where the great sex happens 😉

Timeline: This story can be read on its own but relates to my previous stories about Jisung and Haneul, Haechan's sister. They first had sex in the Most Memorable Sexual Experience of Jisung Part 1-2. Then I gave you a timeline of how Jisung grew up in the two years that followed (Jisung 'Boy to Man').

There is a gap, about when they hooked up again for the first time after those two years. That's a story I haven't written and a reunion that is left to your imagination.

In this new story, however, I imagine that Jisung and Haneul have already started a new sexual relationship. The reunion reignited an old spark between them, and now Haneul comes to Seoul for “a visit” 😏🍆🍆🍆

They're older, more experienced, and want one thing: sex. But is sex really all, or is there more between them? That's where we're at now in their relationship 😊

Haechan was a great excuse for Haneul to come visit Jisung in Seoul. Her brother knew about the sexual relationship she had with his friend, but she still lied for no reason and claimed it was Haechan she wanted to see. The truth remained unspoken between them, but both siblings knew the facts: Haechan was just a bonus, and Jisung was the real reason for her sudden eagerness to travel.

Since their last encounter Haneul had been unable to stop thinking about the boy who once had a major crush on her. He had grown into a fine man, and catapulted into adulthood, though she had always considered him mature beyond his years.

The youthful infatuation that once existed between them, years prior, might no longer exist and would probably never return. But they had found each other in other ways, and for the past two months Haneul had desperately been craving more.

Jisung had consumed her mind. He had kept her awake at night. He was like a drug she could no longer have, and from which she suffered severe withdrawals. In a way, you could say that the tables had turned.

Except in her case, she could have the drug. It was available whenever she wanted it. All she had to do was come and get it.

Jisung no longer felt the same strong and painful withdrawal symptoms he once did. There was a time when thinking about her naked body caused him heartache, yet he thought about her every day nonetheless. That was two years ago, and a lot had happened since then.

But he was genuinely excited about the visit. A sweet, cute girl was going out of her way to see him, and considering the sex they had before, he could imagine what her visit would entail. It had all but been confirmed that they would sleep together.

The time when Haneul hardly even replied to his horny and desperate texts was ancient history. Now, they texted and even video called almost daily, and it was not unusual that their chats turned dirty. They were adults with needs, a need the other could fulfill. Jisung was a couple of years younger than her, but he certainly wasn't a teenager anymore.

In short, they had already had fun in bed on several occasions and both wanted to do it again. And as much as Haechan knew why Haneul wanted to visit even though he had never been told so, Jisung knew it too. That's why he was so happy and giddy on the day of her arrival.

Chenle made fun of him for it but was glad for his friend. Haechan made a snarky comment in passing, still without stating the obvious real reason for the visit. And Jisung tried to act calm and indifferent, though everyone could tell he was not.

To him it was, by all accounts, a great day indeed.

Haneul arrived in the late afternoon. Haechan picked her up at the station. At the dorm Jisung was waiting on the living room couch, where he acted cool and pretended to not be waiting at all.

Because the nature of her visit had not been explicitly confirmed, however, neither Haneul nor Jisung wanted to make the first move. There was a small risk that they were making assumptions and that their thoughts were just wishful thinking. Flirty and dirty messages were one thing, but the fact that they had sex in the past was not a guarantee that they would again.

Jisung especially suddenly started to doubt everything now that the moment had come, and wondered if, maybe, they were not on the same page after all. Maybe she was really just there to visit her brother like she said.

Making a move and being rejected would be a total embarrassment. Especially since they weren't alone for the rest of the evening. It would be difficult to find the time and space to do what he really wanted to do, and a rejection in front of everyone would be painful.

That said, their months of daily texting – and weekly sexting – combined with their history of sleeping with each other meant that there were bottled up desires of a sexual nature. The attraction between them was undeniably strong, and from the moment Haneul walked through the door the sexual tension weighted heavy in the air. Everyone in the room could feel it.

The climax of this first evening of Haneul's visit happened in the hours before bedtime. Jisung was seated on the couch chatting with their common friends – his bandmates. Haneul sat down beside him, leaning closer and closer to him with each passing minute. Jisung put an arm on the backrest behind her, and before long it was clear to every dreamer present that there was – still – something going on between them.

The friend group found it interesting and fun, especially considering that – more than two years ago – some of the boys had walked in on Jisung and Haneul in a hotel room, still naked after they had sex. The relationship between the previously innocent maknae and Haechan's twin sister had been a hot topic behind closed doors ever since.

This first night of the visit was a fun and wonderful time. But the sexual tension was building up to the point that it was becoming unbearable. And the fact that nothing further happened between them was a major disappointment.

That night Jisung went to bed with butterflies in his stomach and his heart beating out of his chest. The fact that Haneul was sleeping just behind the wall was a fact that suddenly occupied every part of his mind. Sleeping became almost impossible, with such a strong attraction pulling him and radiating from the wall.

Okay, maybe he still carried some of those youthful emotions of young love in him.

He looked at Chenle who was snoring at the other side of the room. For the first time in his life he wondered if it wasn't about time they all got their own apartments. Had he been living alone he could have brought Haneul over as much as they pleased, and it would have been so much easier to figure out her thoughts and intentions. That would have been a dream come true.

As he lay awake he became hard, and he couldn't stop thinking about one thing: what amazing things he could do with Haneul if only they had some privacy.

*****

When Jisung woke up on a lazy Saturday morning – on Haneul's second day in the capital – he was immediately curious to learn where she was and what the day might bring. He genuinely believed that she was there to see him, not her brother, and that they'd likely spend the day together. But her visit was rather spontaneous and hasty and no plans had been made.

The sense of uncertainty returned, and he braced himself for disappointment. If he got up and she wasn't there, that would feel like a kick in the gut.

If she was around, he had several ideas he thought he could suggest, places in the city he could show the countryside girl. The last thing he wanted was for the trip to become awkward or boring for her, or for her to end up spending all of it with Haechan. They had to do something together.

I'll let you in on a totally-not-secret secret: They never made it out of the apartment, because they were too busy fucking each other's brains out. In case you were wondering, that's exactly where this story is going.

Jisung stayed in bed longer than intended, contemplating all of his options. He was perhaps a bit afraid, unwilling to face Haneul while the others were around. Chenle had already left the room for breakfast, and he was unsure of who else was lingering outside the door. He listened intently for sounds and hints while his friends shuffled about on their rare day off.

Eventually he did get out of bed, simply because he couldn't stay away from her any longer. And once he did he was surprised to find the apartment completely empty. It certainly hadn't been just half an hour ago, when he listened and imagined what everyone was doing.

It didn't feel like a kick in the gut though. In fact he wasn't worried at all. Surely she would return soon enough, because she didn't want to be away from him either.

At least that's what he convinced himself in the moment, as he walked in his pyjama's through the deserted apartment, got himself something to eat in the kitchen, and sat down in the living room in complete silence.

They had probably all gone out to do their own thing. For a moment he felt a little left out, the way his friends had left without saying a word to him. But he would soon understand why he was left alone.

When he finished his breakfast he peeked inside Haechan's room, fully expecting to not find anyone there. He did find someone though. There was a mattress on the floor, the one Haneul had spent the night on, but it was empty. Haneul was instead lounging on Haechan's bed, wearing an over-sized t-shirt and pyjama shorts, aimlessly playing on her phone. She had been waiting for Jisung to wake up for hours.

“Oh, hi,” Jisung exclaimed.

“Hi,” Haneul said and her face lit up in a big, beautiful smile. She had heard him in the kitchen but wanted to play it cool, just as he did the night before.

“Where's Haechan?” Jisung asked.

“They went out.”

“Why didn't you go with them?”

He was hoping for a specific answer and Haneul gave it to him: “I was waiting for you,” she said and kept on smiling.

Jisung's heart started racing. He quickly entered the room and sat down by Haneul's feet. She pulled them up to give him space, but gradually relaxed as they started talking. Before long they were deep in conversation and her feet were in his lap.

He casually put his hand on them while they conversed. They sat there for maybe ten minutes, first making smalltalk but then joking and laughing together.

It felt pretty great. Things had always been this easy between them. But Jisung really only had one thing on his mind: they were alone, and whether that was by design or a lucky coincidence, it was a golden opportunity to act upon their desires.

Jisung was the one to finally make a move, something which would have been unthinkable just a few years ago. He leaned in closer and closer, his hand wandering higher up Haneul's bare leg. The attraction radiated from her skin to his heart which put all his senses on high alert. Before long he was on his side next to her on the bed, and when the gap between them was so insignificant it was no longer an obstacle, he closed the gap and kissed her.

The kiss was soft but long. Haneul's heart skipped a beat and she sank into the mattress. It took them both a second to realize that this really was happening.

Once it did she slid down the bed and Jisung pulled himself higher. They started making out, long and passionately, and explore each other's bodies with their hands. Over the course of another ten minutes their touches became firmer, their hands wandered further, and their bodies rubbed together. The sexual desire was so strong they forgot all about their friends and the outside world.

Jisung was hard within seconds of that first intimate kiss. Haneul took longer to get wet but got there when Jisung touched her boobs over the t-shirt. The way he felt her and put his lips on hers while being so sweet and funny did great things to her, and by the time he stuck his fingers inside her shorts she couldn't wait for him to fuck her.

This moment was indeed why Haneul had come in the first place. It was why Jisung wanted her there. Forget outdoor activities, forget Seoul, and forget their friends. There was nowhere they'd rather be right now than right here, locked in an empty apartment, cozied up in bed together, with their hands all over each other.

And with their history and experience this wouldn't be like any time before. The sex that was about to follow would be the greatest sex Jisung had ever had. If he were to tell you about his most memorable sexual experience today, he wouldn't tell you about his first time with Haneul. He would tell you about this time.

As they made out, passionately rocking their bodies close together in the sheets, and Jisung fingered his girl while pressing and rubbing his bulge and boner against her hot body, the pleasurable sensation in Jisung's pants became so strong pre-cum made his pyjama's wet.

Haneul felt a similar sensation in her shorts. She was so wet by now Jisung's fingers were soaked. She was fully immersed in their intimate bubble, and Jisung's fingers made her pant and squirm on the bed.

Sex with other guys was good, but with Jisung there was a deeper connection. He made her feel like a teenager again, and despite the addition of experience it was about so much more than just his dick and their body contact.

She gradually spread her legs wider and wider, while Jisung pressed closer and harder against her pelvis and body. They kissed and touched with an ever-increasing lust and intensity, and finally their expectations of the trip were confirmed.

Jisung pulled his fingers out. He raised his lower body and climbed on top of his lover who wrapped her arms around his back and shirt. It felt like they were back in Manilla doing something exciting and slightly forbidden, yet at the same time things were very different. It wasn't like Manilla at all.

The final tipping point came when Jisung stuck his hand inside Haneul's shirt and felt her naked breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra. Simultaneously he pressed his pelvis against hers which sent a powerful shiver through her body. It prompted her to push him off her and abruptly sit up straight.

Jisung kept his lips on hers until she was out of reach, at which point he moved down to kiss her stomach. She panted while she pulled the shirt over her head, and Jisung looked up and on in amazement as she exposed herself to him.

She tossed the shirt on the matress on the floor. He quickly reached up and felt her breasts again. Then he sat up too and attacked her chest, shoulders and face with his lips and tongue.

Haneul kept panting and started tugging on his clothes. She unbottoned the front of his pyjama shirt and slid it over his shoulder, revealing his smooth skin. He hastily undid the last button and opened the shirt wide, exposing his chest and flat tummy.

They kissed and giggled while he held out his arms and she pulled the shirt over them. It soon joined her t-shirt on the floor. Then Jisung, shirtless and horny ass hell, moved away from her and got out of bed.

They kept giggling and smiling wide as he rushed to the door and locked it. He was sure they'd have plenty of time but why risk it? He wanted all the time alone with Haneul he could get – naked, in bed, with his dick deep inside her warm pussy. It was the moment they had both been dreaming of.

“Condoms?” Haneul asked while she raised her ass and pulled her shorts down. She wasn't wearing any panties either.

Jisung abruptly stopped. He grinned and turned around again. His pants were hanging low, revealing the seams of his boxers, and his boner created a big, narrow lump on the loosely fitted fabric.

He unlocked the door and left the room with haste without saying a word. He rushed to his bedroom and found a box. He brought the whole thing with him, but when he returned to his lover he had already unwrapped a condom.

When he saw Haneul smiling and flaunting her body completely in the nude on the bed, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Wow,” he said. “You're so beautiful.”

Haneul felt all warm and fuzzy inside. She couldn't stop grinning. Jisung was genuinely mesmerized, and for the thousand’ time in his life he thought: I can't believe I get to touch her*.*

Of course he hadn't actually touched her that many times, but he had dreamt of it. And once his mind had processed the sight and his body was responding again, he locked the door and took off his pants.

Their eyes met and they smiled wide when he walked naked back to the bed. Haneul admired his dick and slim figure. As she pulled herself higher, eagerly awaiting Jisung's warm return, she realized that she had a bit of a crush on him.

It was a fact she had been in denial about, but which had become harder to avoid in the two months since their big reunion.

Jisung sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed his boner. Haneul looked on and enjoyed the show when he put the condom on. Then he crawled on all four toward her, and she spread her legs wide as they lay down and kissed.

His body sank onto hers. His lips wandered from her mouth to her neck. She panted softly when he continued down her chest and stomach, his hands gliding down her sides and his dick waving in the wair between their bodies, just above and below her dripping pussy.

Its presence lingered. She felt the heat between their organs. His lips on her skin and the hard dick pointing right at her hole made her so fucking horny.

But she had to wait for it a little longer. Jisung straightened his legs behind him and lay down, to bury his head between Haneul's thighs. She raised her hips in pleasure when he kissed her folds. He briefly looked up at her, proud of the intense experience he was clearly giving her, and was encouraged by seeing her squirm.

While his kisses intensified he spread his legs as not to fall off the foot of the bed, and moved his ass up and down to rub the boner against the mattress. It felt so good, so hot, and Haneul was amazing.

He ate her out like he'd done it a million times before. Haneul was surprised by how good and confident he had become with his mouth and tongue. He altered between softly engulfing her folds with his lips, sucking hard, blowing gently on her clit, and licking her wet vagina at a depth just deep enough to make her want to beg for more.

“Ahh, Jisung, fuck that's good!” she moaned. “Mmm, yeah, yeah, yeaaah!”

It all sent Haneul into a frenzy. She jolted and squirmed, panted and moaned, and quickly showed Jisung that what he was doing to her was incredible.

“Mm, ahhhh, Jisung! Mm, MMM, YES!”

Pre-cum was once against seeping out from his dick, this time accumulating in the condom. The sensation was intense, and all his senses were activated by the sexual activity.

He wanted to fuck her, and he wanted to fuck her good. In the next part of this story he did 🥵🔥🍆💦😏

-> Part 2 will be posted tomorrow, February 4th, 2025.

[buck-star]

His exception

A new bank robbery and you’re not so sure about it all anymore. Chris, however, knows what you need and he’s more than willing to offer it.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Chris x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 3.554 Words

Warnings/Tags: 18+, Minors DNI, mentions of gun’s, bank rubbery, undercover mission, angst, fluff, smut [oral (fem!rec), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, multiple orgasm, praise, aftercare], petnames [baby, babe, pretty girl]

Authors Note: There were some of those gifs of him, and however @navybrat817 made me want to write him even more them. @soelstress more Destroyer!Chris. Divider made by me.

Events: Elixirscinema [🖊 ...✩ You are my exception. — He’s Just Not That Into You | 🍰 ✩｡⋆⸜ “Kiss me.” | Love Again "Show me that heaven's right here, baby. Touch me so I know I'm not crazy. Never have I ever met somebody like you. Used to be afraid of love and what it might do, but goddamn, you got me in love again." — Dua Lipa], Beginnings Bingo [Row One-One | First Mission | @sweetspicybingo], Hurt and Comfort Bingo [BO32 | Row Three-Two | Praise | @hurtcomfort-bingo]

Masterlist | Destoryer!Chris Masterlist

The sun is softly shining into the small room that you call yours and Chris’ home. The door’s closed and locked, but you still hear the voice outside. With a soft sigh, you pull the sweater over your head and put on your shoes. It’s pretty early, and you stayed half of the morning in bed to read a bit.

Chris offered to stay in bed with you, but after Jay kept pushing Chris to move his ass because he got some snow and wanted to try it, you almost pushed him out of bed. You love cuddling with him, but reading while cuddling with Chris only ends with Chris on top of you and the book anywhere but not in your hands.

You unlock the door, walking out into the darker floor. The door to Silas and Shelby’s room is slightly open, allowing you to look inside, at least as much as you’re able to see the two of them.

Shelby’s sitting on her boyfriend's lap while he looks slightly up at her. A soft grin is curling his lips upwards while he listens to her.

“That’s a really big thing; my cousins told me about it. He’s good at it; it’s a big thing, trust me,” Shelby says quietly but still loud enough for you to hear. Silas nods, looking thoughtful for a moment before he pulls her closer with his arms around her waist.

“Then—“ he trails off, leaning closer to her to kiss her neck softly. With a shake of your head, you walk further through the floor, not wanting to watch the porn.

Chris is sitting on one of the small couches in the corner of the room, his legs spread and his back against the backrest, while he watches Jay taking another row of the drugs. But your boyfriend's ocean blue eyes are immediately on you when he notices you walking into the room, a soft smile playing around his lips.

You walk closer to him, forcing a soft smile on your lips when you nod at Jay, and then your eyes settle on Chris. He’s still watching you, his hands slowly moving from his lap to stretch out in your direction.

With a swift movement, you sit down on his lap, your knees on both sides of his thick thighs when he wraps his arms around you and pulls you even closer. His nose trails along the soft skin of your neck from your shoulder to your ear before he kisses the spot underneath your earlobe.

“How’s the book, babe?” He asks, his voice rough but still so soft and tender that you relax in his embrace. His smell surrounds you, and you take a deep breath before leaning your head against his shoulder.

“It’s good, but can we talk?” You mumble, kissing his neck as well. The others are used to people making out and getting into their rooms. So, to keep the attention away from your conversation with Chris, you just pretend to make out with him.

He hums, smirking when he gets up with you in his arms. He winks and nods at Jay before you pull him into a kiss and feel his warm, plump lips softly moving against yours as well. Chris growls low in his throat as he walks out of the room with you and back into the hallway.

His ocean blue eyes focused on you, his lips in a thin line. When you walk past Silas and Shelby’s room, you hear the grunts and moans of both of them, shaking your head in disgust. Chris laughs softly, kissing your forehead softly.

“Free porn for us, huh?” He asks and hurries to get back into your shared room. You nod, your arms tightly around his neck while you run your fingers up and down the back of his neck. His trimmed hair tickles your fingertips while your nails scratch softly along the soft skin. “Guess we should do our own, better quality.”

You chuckle softly. Chris opens the door and walks into your room, closing it behind the two of you and locking it for some privacy. He lets you down, turning the two of you around before he presses you with your back against the wooden door.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice low and quiet. His head tilts softly, his eyes soften, and he brings one of his hands to your waist. His calloused hand grips your soft flesh lightly. The other of his hands is pressed next to your shoulder against the door.

You shake your head, snaking your hands from his shoulders down to his firm chest. Chris immediately understands, leaning his head forward and pressing his lips as soft as possible onto yours. His tongue swipes over your lower lip, parting them softly before he devours your sweet taste with a low grumble in his chest.

He pulls away slowly, looking down at you with a soft smile on his plump lips. His fingers dig into your waist, his lips hovering above yours while he lets his other hand next to your shoulder slide down your shoulder and slide toward your waist as well. Just when he could curl his thick fingers around it, he moves it to your center and captures your cunt with his hand.

“Say it, say please, and you will get what you need, babe,” he says, his breath warm against your lips, and you nod your head. He chuckles, shaking his head when you buck your hips instead of answering his questions with words. “Words, babe, I need you to say out loud what you want.”

“Please, need you, Chris,” you whimper, feeling his fingers slowly rubbing your folds through the fabric of your sweatpants. A shaky whine followed by a soft moan falls from your lips. Your fingers curl around his shirt tightly, pulling him closer and grounding yourself.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, leaning down to kiss you passionately once more. Chris brings both of his hands to your waist, grip tightening before he lifts you up and carries you to the bed. He sits you down softly, kneeling down in front of you while he lets his hands snake up and down your thighs.

Your boyfriend pulls at the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to lift your hands so he’s able to slip it over your head and throw it away. Chris leaves you with flushed cheeks and only a bra and sweatpants while his blue eyes roam over your body.

No matter how often he sees you, sees you naked, he adores you, adores your body. He can never get enough of you, and he shows you with every part of him. Chris’ tongue pokes out, wetting his lips and making you whimper.

He leans closer to kiss your sides, along your stomach to the other side before he kisses his way up to your bra. His hands keep the soft motion on your thighs. “So sweet, all mine.”

You nod, whimpering. Chris pushes you back softly, and you crawl backward on the bed until you’re comfortable. Your legs dangle down the mattress on both sides of your boyfriend's thick body. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants, pushing them down and off your legs to reveal your soaked panties.

“Look at you, all wet and needy for me, babe,” he mumbles, bringing his lips to your covered pussy. His tongue licks a thick strip from your entrance up to your clit, where he sucks at the soft fabric and groans at your sweet taste.

“C-Chris, please,” you moan, wiggling your hips to get more of his warm mouth against your cunt. His fingers dig into your thighs, pushing you into the mattress while his lips remain around your clit and his eyes are locked with yours. “N-no teasing, please, Chris.”

Chris kisses your panties once more before he pulls back and slides the thin fabric down your legs, throwing it on the floor as well. His lips trail up your thighs, kissing and biting softly while he keeps you in place with his big hands on your waist.

“Spread ya legs for me, babe, put them on my shoulders,” he mumbles, and you obey, spreading your legs when you place them on both of his shoulders and caging his head between them. “Good girl.”

His voice is rough, sending a shiver down your spine. A low chuckle leaves his lips when he notices the goosebumps all over your body. Chris keeps kissing up to your pussy, leaving soft marks all over your skin.

“You’re so wet; that’s all for me, pretty girl?”

“M-mhm, all for you, Chris, only for you,” you whimper, bucking your hips to get closer to him. He pushes himself up slightly, causing your legs to lift as well so he can position himself better between your legs. His tongue slides over his plump lips once more before he lowers himself and kisses your wet folds.

Your hands immediately sink into the sheets underneath you, gripping them tightly while you pull at them harshly. Chris smirks, lifting his head so that his beard scratches over your sensitive bundle of nerves. He lowers his head again and lets his tongue run over your folds to your entrance.

His calloused hands stroke your thighs up and down before he uses one of them to bring to your cunt and tease your entrance with one of his thick fingers. He dips in slightly, slipping back out and doing the same with his tongue.

“C-Chris, no… no teasing, please,” you whine, a moan coming out when he plunges one of his thick fingers into your tight cunt. His lips are moving back to your clit, his tongue swirling around it while he pumps his digit in and out of you.

If you would look down at him, you would notice the grin on his face, his eyes locked on your face and taking in every little detail of your expression.

You feel the knot in your stomach tightening. His digits storming your spongy spot with every movement. Chris's beard is adding more pleasure, making you moan and wiggle underneath him.

“Can take another finger?” He asks, knowing the answer, and before you can respond to his question, he already pushes a second digit into your tightness. His name falls from your lips, your mouth drops open, and your legs shake when he speeds up the thrusts of them. “Mhm, gonna cum, pretty girl? Cum for me and make a mess on my fingers, babe.”

And you do, his warm lips, his soft beard, and his thick fingers sending you over the edge. Your pussy is clenching around him while you throw your head back and moan his name loudly. You’re panting, your eyes closed as he keeps fucking you with his tongue and fingers through your orgasm.

Only when you whine and try to wiggle away from him does he stop and pull his fingers out of you. Chris pushes your legs softly off his shoulders and sits back. His tongue pokes out, and he places his fingers on them, circling them with a deep groan.

“You're the sweetest thing on earth, baby,” he mumbles. Chris takes off his shirt, revealing his trained chest. His pants and boxers are pushed down after, and he steps out of them. “Crawl up, get comfy, and spread those pretty legs for me.”

You nod, still fucked out, but you do as he says and move further up the bed. Your head in the pillows, you lick your lips when your eyes settle on his thick, leaking cock.

“Can you take me, or do you just want to cuddle?”

“You… want you, please,” you whimper, spreading your legs apart for your boyfriend. He smiles softly and crawls up the bed, settling between your legs. Chris lets himself fall slightly on top of you, his throbbing dick rubbing along your wetness, and you immediately buck your hips upwards.

Chris leans down to kiss you softly, his tongue sliding over your lips and sliding between them. One of his hands moves between your bodies, wrapping around his shaft and stroking himself a few times before he lines up with your entrance.

His teeth bite slightly down on your lips, and he pulls it softly, then kisses you once more while he pushes in. Your moan is swallowed by him, his cock stretching your tight cunt, and you take a deep breath when he pushes further into you. No matter how often you have sex, it’s always a tight fit, and his cock feels just so thick it’s causing a light burn in your pussy.

“Shhh, so good for me, baby. Takin’ me like a good girl, my good girl,” he mumbles softly, running one of his hands up and down your side as he uses his other hand to stroke his knuckles along your cheek. Chris pushes further into you, bottoming out with his balls flush against your ass cheeks. “That’s my good girl, take a deep breath. That’s not about fucking, baby; it’s about making love. You don’t need to adjust immediately; we can just stay like that.”

If someone were to ask you why you love that man, that would be the reason. The softness he has around you. The love he shows you, the understanding.

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down. Chris chuckles and lowers himself, his chest pressed against yours. With your legs around his waist, you let them slide down his thighs and tangle them with his.

“You’re so beautiful, so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispers, his lips so close to you but not breaking the distance just yet. His ocean blue orbs are so soft when he looks into yours. There's nothing that matters but the two of you at the moment.

It doesn’t matter that Silas makes a plan for the next bank robbery or that the others play Russian roulette with a gun that doesn’t have any bullets in it. It just doesn’t matter because you’re safe; he's safe. And for the moment, it’s just you and him, connected and filled with love for one another.

“You can move, if you want,” you say softly, lifting your head to kiss him. Chris's lips move in tandem with yours as he pulls his hips back and lets his cock pull out except for his tip before he pushes back into you. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix, and you whimper into the kiss.

Your walls clench around his thick dick, earning you a low groan from your boyfriend. “You make me go crazy, and I love it, pretty girl,” he mumbles with a smirk on his lips. You smile softly back at his sweet words, sighing and moaning softly when he thrusts steadily but slowly into you. Chris lets you feel every inch of his cock.

“I love you, Chris, I love you so much,” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you, too, baby. My good girl, my precious girl,” he whispers back. He captures your lips with his once more; his thrusts speed up slightly. He’s stretching you so perfectly, hitting all the right spots, and the softness causes the coil in your stomach to tighten again. “Gonna cum for me?”

You nod, wrapping your legs tighter around him. Chris smirks, pushing further into you, his lips never leaving yours.

“Then come for me, squeeze me,” he growls. You whimper, your walls clenching around his twitching cock. The coil in your stomach snaps. You moan, throwing your head back while your legs tremble and your pussy is squeezing around your boyfriend's cock, pushing him over the edge as well. “Fuck, just like that, baby.”

Chris' voice is husky and his hips stutter when his warm cum spurts out of his tip. He’s keeping his cock deep in your cunt, his thrusts slowing down until he stops and lays down on top of you. He’s still taking care to keep his weight mostly on his arms and legs.

He’s panting just like you, sweat running down his forehead, but he still has the soft and adorable smile on his face. The smile that reaches his eyes, making them light up even more. “So good, baby, so good for me. Your pussy squeezed me so hard, mhm, love you. I fuckin’ love you, babe.”

You giggle, running your fingers over his short hair, letting your nails scratch along his scalp. “I love you too. Can you… Can you stay like that a moment longer?”

Chris nods, though he wraps his arms around you and turns both of you around so he’s underneath you. “That’s oke, too? Don’t want to crash my baby.”

“Mhm, more than oke,” you whisper and smile. You kiss his neck and shoulders softly, leaving some hickeys on his soft skin. For a moment the two of you are quiet, just enjoying the closeness and warmth of one another. But then you speak up to finally tell him about what you heard earlier and caused your mood change. “Chris, I-I’m… I’m scared; they plan a big thing… a bit… bank robbery.”

“We can just call, and they get us out of here, you know that, right?” He asks, and you nod. You would love to get out of the mission, but you also know that this is an important mission for Chris. One he worked so long for, and now you almost got the guys. You can’t just step back and ruin it all because of a bit of fear. Chris notices your thoughtful expression, his hands rubbing up and down your back. “It doesn’t matter if we almost get these guys; if you say you want to be out of the mission, we will do exactly that.”

“But you said… it’s important for you, Chris. You didn’t want to stop that mission for anything. And I agreed; I knew details about the mission. You played with open cards, and you told me that nothing… there’s nothing you would cancel that mission,” you say. He nods; he knows that he said it, and he meant it when the mission started, but now there are things that are different — things that are more important for him.

“I know, but you’re my exception. I don’t care about the mission if it makes you uncomfortable. If you say no, you don’t want to be stuck in here any longer because you don’t feel safe, we’re going to make the call and we’re out of here. When they don’t get these guys because of that, it’s their problem; they have so much information, and with the bank robbery, they play even more,” Chris explains, and you know he’s right. Tears well up in your eyes, and you nod, trying to snuggle more into him. Your boyfriend pulls the blanket over the two of you, his arms wrapping tighter around you, and he kisses your forehead softly. “I want you to be happy, baby.”

“But you said… I don’t want to ruin it for you; I don’t… It’s weird; there’s… I’m not sure why I’m afraid; I know they keep an eye on us while we are on the mission, but…” You trail off; a few tears roll down your cheeks. Chris immediately brings both of his big hands to your cheeks, wiping the tears away and pulling you closer. His lips are only inches away from yours.

“I said that because before I met you, my job was everything for me. I haven’t had anything else but it. And then there was you, and I fell in love with you. You’re the most precious and beautiful thing that happened, and I couldn’t be happier. Baby, I love you. I don’t care about any mission like I care about you,” he says softly, kissing you softly. His lips linger against yours, underlining his words. “I loved my job, but you showed me what falling in love really means. You made me love again, made me love something — someone that matters more than my job.”

“I love you too… But I want to… I want to finish that mission with you,” you confess. He nods slowly.

“We can, I just want you to know that you matter more than that mission,” he says, and you smile softly. You peck his lips and trail your lips down to his jawline and down to his neck, placing soft kisses on his skin.

“I know, but I want to. I know you’re here; you take care that no one gets hurt,” you say softly.

“Sounds like a plan, and of course I do, baby. So let’s find out where and when they plan the robbery, and then we are out of the mission,” Chris says. You nod but remain on top of him. He chuckles low in his throat. “Let’s cuddle a bit longer, and then we’ll get ourselves cleaned; Jay will tell us all about the plan anyway.” You giggle, kissing his neck and biting softly into it while he tickles your sides and makes you squirm on top of him to get away from his fingers poking into your sides with a grin on his lips.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @bamitzzsam [add yourself]

[reverie-starlight]

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. one tiny mention of skipping breakfast, but that's it. FLUFF!! I’ve missed writing for knb!! I love kagami so much, take this as my warm up to get used to writing him again.

based on prompt 3 from this list :)

“you’re so warm and soft,” you mumble, leaning against kagami as you both wait in line at the grocery store. “it’s so unfair.” he’s decked out in a black hoodie, some jeans, and a tuque you had insisted he wear before leaving the house.

your boyfriend, who is apparently a walking space heater, somehow doesn’t seem to be affected by the winter chill that you’re dreading having to face when you're done paying.

kagami chuckles, rubbing your back up and down. “thanks, you’re shivering.”

you glare up at him and he holds you steady as you both shuffle forward a bit more. "don't you, like, hate the cold? how haven't you been complaining at all today?"

he snorts. "because we're inside, babe. besides, it's a short walk from here to the car, I can handle that no problem."

you roll your eyes and press your forehead against his chest. "unfair," you repeat.

"well maybe you'd be warmer right now if you had eaten a full breakfast." he chides, reminding you of how hungry you are and souring your mood a bit.

your face scrunches up. "I told you I'd eat after getting back! and in my defense, we didn’t have anything to make for breakfast to begin with since someone used up the last of my oatmeal."

instead of responding, your boyfriend turns you around so you can get ready to shuffle forward again and greet the cashier now that it's your turn to check out.

the girl, probably no older than seventeen, glances up briefly with a polite smile at you and kagami before doing a double take. you grin slightly as she watches him load your haul onto the belt, clearly recognizing him from somewhere.

now that he's made a name for himself in the NBA, more people have been noticing him, and you find it endearing. he gets so uncharacteristically shy interacting those who recognize him, and today is no different, apparently, because you see his cheeks turn pink as he keeps his head down, probably feeling her gaze on him.

you think she's about to ask him a question before shaking her head and snapping her mouth shut. she finishes scanning the items and asks you "um, how would you like to pay?"

you realize your mistake too late and scramble to answer her while fishing out the cash from your wallet, but kagami beats you to it. "card."

you glare up at him, forgetting any adoration you'd been feeling for him moments ago. "no way, it's my turn."

he shrugs and tries to insert his card into the machine but you block him. "taiga!"

this happens every time you go out together.

you’ve turned it into a competition of sorts, to see who’s faster and can pay first. it’s not like there’s a prize, or anything at all to be gained, really…

except the satisfaction of winning.

you were in the lead, well on your way to securing a two point gap, but now you’re back to being tied.

it’s clear that any embarrassment he was harbouring is gone as he looks at you, cocky grin playing on his lips and determination clear in his eyes. "just let me, I already had my card out anyway. it's fine, baby, you can take the loss."

you look behind him, still blocking the machine and realize the line is continuously growing. deciding it's not worth making a scene and holding all those people up, you very reluctantly lower your arm and start putting the bags back into the cart.

"you're gonna pay for this," you say menacingly as he nods at the cashier in thanks and takes the receipt.

he snorts. "I just did. what, have you got short term memory or something?"

"you-" groaning, you pull your hood on and bundle it tightly around your face. it's not as cold now that the sun is a bit higher in the sky, but the wind still feels sharp against your skin. "just don't get too comfortable, alright? who knows when I could strike."

he shakes his head in amusement and helps you load everything into the trunk of your car. "alright, alright. let's get you home so you can actually eat something."

_______________________________________________

BONUS:

after you get home and settle on the couch with the hearty breakfast kagami made for you, you scroll on your phone and see a post that catches your attention. you snort and tilt your screen towards the man beside you.

user020125: kagami taiga and his partner were getting groceries where I work today and they were bickering over who was going to pay like an old married couple. romance isn’t dead yet, folks.

“ah jeez,” he groans. “at least no one took a picture this time.”

you giggle and rest your head on his shoulder, staring up at him. “it’s kinda sweet, though, don’t you think?”

“what is?” he asks.

“that we give off old married couple vibes,” you soften your voice a bit and watch him ponder on it.

he nudges your arm nods at your plate, as if to say ‘eat, baby’ which only backs up the comment on your mind.

“I…” he pauses briefly to find the right words.

after a moment he meets your eyes. his normally fiery gaze is now softened, resembling a flickering candle rather than the scorching flames of a forest fire. his entire expression radiates warmth and love.

“I can’t wait to spend all that time with you actually becoming an old married couple,” he murmurs, reaching over to cup your cheek, which is still full with the bite you took. “I couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone else, baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this is like. extremely short and I apologize for that, but I wanted to write something for him again 🥹

@dira333 this is why I asked you for a random number a while back hehe

@emmyrosee tagging you too, you can’t escape him, sorry :/

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 20: Don't Ever Look Back

It seems that once again, Y/N is in urgent need of her knight in shining leather. Lucky for her, he's always there for her. And more.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W, slight fight/violence.

A/N: hello!!! guyyyyssss i want to cry...one chapter left....this is it...what you've (we've) been waiting for!!!! or is it???? nahh I'm kidding...unless??? anyway without mentioning anything from this chapter, I just wanted to say that after the last chapter I want to do an epilogue! so if you have any idea please feel free to share!!!! enjoy this chapter🩷

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

The walk home felt heavier with each passing day.

Y/N clutched her bag strap a little tighter, her eyes on the pavement as she made her way back to the apartment. The streets were bathed in the dim orange glow of streetlights, the air cool but not cold. It wasn’t the kind of evening that should feel lonely, but it did.

She could feel his absence in every room, every routine they used to share. Breakfast felt incomplete without his gruff morning greetings. Dinner was quiet without his occasional grunts of approval at Wade’s questionable cooking experiments. Even passing conversations had changed into strained, clipped exchanges, if they even happened at all.

She thought she’d imagined it at first—that maybe she was overanalyzing things. But as the days stretched on, it became undeniable: Logan was avoiding her. He left before she woke up, came home after she’d retreated to her room, and spent his time at school holed up in his classroom. Their walks to work had stopped altogether, leaving her to trek to and from the school alone, the absence of his steady, silent presence gnawing at her more than she cared to admit.

Wade had noticed, of course. He’d even apologized for his part in it, guilt written all over his face as he tried to cheer her up with jokes and a promise to “fix things.” But there was no fixing this. How could there be? Logan had clearly made his choice. 

She couldn’t even call it friendship anymore—not when the lines were so blurred. Logan was more than her roommate, more than her colleague. He was... everything. And now he was gone.

Today was no different. The streets were quiet as Y/N walked home from work, the chill of the evening air nipping at her skin. She pulled her coat tighter around herself, her thoughts drifting to the empty apartment she’d return to. It wasn’t just Logan’s absence that weighed on her—it was the way it made her feel, like she’d lost something she’d only just started to realize she couldn’t live without. 

The school day had been no better. Colleagues had started asking questions—jokes at first, about why Logan wasn’t walking her to work anymore, why he hadn’t joined them for lunch. But then the concerned looks came, and she found herself fumbling for excuses. “Oh, he’s just busy,” she’d said with a forced smile. Or, “He’s probably working on something.” Lies she barely believed herself.

Her apartment building was just a few blocks away now, the thought of its familiar walls both comforting and suffocating. Home didn’t feel like home when the person who made it feel that way wasn’t there.

As she turned onto a quieter street, the faint sound of footsteps behind her pulled her from her thoughts.

She glanced over her shoulder, but the street was empty except for the shadow of a flickering lamp post. The faint echo of her own boots hitting the pavement mingled with the persistent rhythm behind her.

Y/N quickened her pace, her heartbeat beginning to match the steps in her ears. She told herself it was nothing—a coincidence, maybe someone walking their dog or heading home from work. But she couldn’t shake the prickling unease crawling up her spine.

When she reached the mouth of an alley, the hand on her shoulder came out of nowhere.

She let out a startled cry, but it was muffled almost instantly by another hand pressing firmly over her mouth. Panic shot through her veins as she twisted in the grip, her wide eyes darting upward to see who had grabbed her.

“Mark.”

Her heart plummeted at the sight of his familiar face. His dark eyes glinted under the dim light, his expression a mix of frustration and something darker. He gripped her tightly, ignoring her attempts to push him away.

“Finally,” he said, his voice low but sharp, as if he were trying to contain something simmering beneath the surface. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but you left me no choice.”

She jerked against his hold, her muffled protests spilling out uselessly. When he finally moved his hand from her mouth, she gasped in a shaky breath. “Let go of me!” she demanded, trying to wrench herself free, but his grip only tightened.

“Relax,” he hissed, pulling her farther into the alley, away from the streetlights. “I just want to talk. That’s all. You owe me that much.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Mark!” she snapped, her voice trembling but defiant. Her eyes darted around, searching desperately for someone—anyone—who might see her and step in. But the street was empty, and the distant hum of cars seemed to mock her helplessness.

“You don’t mean that,” Mark said, his jaw clenching. “You’re upset, I get it. But this isn’t fair, Y/N. I’ve been working on myself. For you. I’ve done everything I could to show you I’ve changed, and this is how you treat me?”

“You didn’t change,” she shot back, her voice breaking slightly. “You’re proving it right now. Let me go.”

His face darkened, and a bitter smile crept onto his lips. “You’re being dramatic. I’m just trying to fix things. You think I’m the bad guy because I won’t let you throw us away? That’s rich, sweetheart.”

She felt her stomach churn as his hand brushed against the pendant hanging around her neck. His fingers closed around the emerald necklace, lifting it slightly to examine it.

“This?” he sneered, holding it up as the faint light reflected off the gem. “Is this what you want? A fancy little trinket? I could give you a hundred of these if that’s all it takes to make you happy. Just say the word.”

“Mark—” she started, but the words caught in her throat as he stepped closer, the bitterness in his eyes morphing into something more dangerous.

“You’re not even listening to me,” he growled. “You never did. You act like you’re so much better than me now, but I know the truth, Y/N. You think this new life you’ve built makes you untouchable? It doesn’t. You’re still you, and I know you better than anyone else ever will.”

She tried to shove him away, but his grip only tightened as he loomed over her. “Stop fighting me,” he snapped. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

Her breath hitched as he leaned closer, his other hand brushing against her arm as she twisted in his hold. Fear and frustration boiled over, tears welling in her eyes as she pushed back harder. “Mark, please!”

But he didn’t stop. His face was too close now, his lips parting as if he meant to—

The force that tore Mark away from her was so sudden and violent that she stumbled back against the wall, gasping for breath.

When her vision steadied, she saw him on the ground, clutching his side, a shadowy figure standing over him.

Logan.

She blinked, momentarily stunned by the sight of him, his broad frame tense and his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes burned with a fury she’d never seen before, and for a moment, she almost felt sorry for Mark. 

Almost.

Logan grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him up with a single, effortless motion. Mark’s feet barely touched the ground as Logan slammed him against the brick wall, his face mere inches from his.

“You’ve got exactly three seconds to explain why you thought it was a good idea to touch her,” Logan growled, his voice low and lethal.

Mark froze for a beat, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, before his jaw tightened. He twisted in Logan’s grip, one hand coming up to shove at Logan’s arm. “Back off, man! This is none of your business—”

Logan didn’t let him finish. His hand tightened in Mark’s shirt, and with a surge of strength, he yanked him forward and slammed him back against the brick wall. The sharp crack of impact made Mark let out a strangled gasp, his bravado faltering.

“It became my business the second you laid a hand on her,” Logan hissed. His voice was a low rumble, the kind that sent chills racing down Y/N’s spine even as she watched from a few feet away, still frozen in place.

Mark’s hands pushed uselessly against Logan’s chest, his struggles growing weaker as he realized just how outmatched he was. “You can’t—she’s—” he stammered, but Logan didn’t give him the chance to finish.

“She’s not yours,” Logan cut in, his voice razor-sharp. “Not anymore. Not ever again. You come near her, you talk to her, you look at her the wrong way—” His grip tightened, and Mark winced, his fear now unmistakable. Logan leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “You’ll wish I’d ended you here. Do you understand me?”

Mark didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking nervously between Logan’s blazing eyes and Y/N’s tear-streaked face.

“I said, do you understand me?” Logan snarled, punctuating the demand by slamming him against the wall again.

“I—yes, I understand!” Mark finally choked out, panic flooding his expression. “I understand, okay?!”

Logan didn’t move for a moment, his eyes boring into Mark’s with a cold, unrelenting fury. Then, as if deciding the man wasn’t worth any more of his time, he released him with a hard shove. Mark stumbled and fell to the ground, scrambling backward on his hands and knees.

“Go,” Logan commanded, his tone sharp and final.

Mark didn’t need to be told twice. He stumbled to his feet, his steps uneven as he bolted from the alley, looking back over his shoulder in terror until he disappeared into the shadows.

Logan stood still for a moment, his chest heaving, the fury still evident in his stiff posture. Slowly, he turned to Y/N, his expression softening the second he saw her trembling form.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped toward her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded weakly, but her tear-streaked face and the way she clutched her arms around herself told a different story.

“I’m fine,” she managed to say, though her voice was shaky and unconvincing.

Logan wasn’t having it. His hands hovered near her shoulders, hesitant but desperate to make sure she was okay. “Did he—” His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard before continuing. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she said quickly, the word almost instinctive, but her voice faltered again.

He exhaled deeply, his brow furrowing as he scanned her from head to toe, as though he didn’t trust her answer. His hands finally settled gently on her arms, steadying her. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice softer, the edge of anger replaced by overwhelming concern.

That was when her composure shattered. A sob escaped her lips, and her knees nearly buckled as she covered her face with trembling hands.

“Hey, hey,” Logan said immediately, stepping closer and pulling her into his arms. His hold was firm but careful, as if he was afraid of breaking her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

She clung to him, burying her face in his chest as sobs wracked her body. His hand rested on the back of her head, the other rubbing soothing circles on her back as he whispered words of comfort.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out between sobs, though she wasn’t even sure why she was apologizing.

“Don’t,” Logan said firmly, pulling back just enough to tilt her chin up so he could look into her eyes. His gaze was intense, filled with guilt and something else she couldn’t quite place. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault.”

She nodded weakly, unable to form words, and he wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close like he was afraid to let go.

After a few moments, he leaned down slightly, his voice gentle but resolute. “Let’s go home.”

She nodded again, her head resting against his chest. He kept an arm securely around her as they left the alley, his presence a solid, unwavering anchor in the chaos of her thoughts.

———

The apartment was silent when they arrived. Y/N stepped inside first, her legs dragging beneath her as if the weight of the evening had sunk into her very bones. Logan followed close behind, the door clicking shut with an air of finality that felt louder than it should have in the stillness.

Y/N let her bag slide from her shoulder, dropping it quietly by the couch. She turned to Logan, who lingered near the front door. His posture was rigid, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. His eyes scanned the room briefly before landing on her, though he didn’t hold her gaze for long.

“Wade’s out,” she said softly, her voice sounding far away to her own ears.

Logan nodded, his jaw clenching. “Yeah.”

The air between them was thick, almost suffocating. Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, unsure of what to say or how to fill the silence. Logan was the first to break it.

“Sit down,” he said gruffly, his voice low but firm.

She blinked at him, surprised by the sudden command, but she obeyed without question. Lowering herself onto the couch, she perched on the edge, her hands resting awkwardly in her lap. Logan remained standing, pacing a few steps before running a hand down his face.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, glancing at her. His tone was sharper than she expected, though it was clear the sharpness wasn’t aimed at her but at himself.

“I’m okay,” she replied with a faint smile, hoping it would reassure him.

It didn’t. His frown deepened as he turned away, his shoulders visibly tense.

“I should’ve…” He trailed off, shaking his head as though the thought itself was unbearable.

Y/N tilted her head, studying him carefully. “Should’ve what?”

“I should’ve been there,” he said, his voice tight. He turned to face her fully, his eyes burning with frustration. “I should’ve been with you, Y/N. And I wasn’t.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he kept going, the words spilling out as though he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

“I’ve been avoiding you,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I know you’ve noticed. I’ve been avoiding you because I’m an idiot. And if I hadn’t—if I hadn’t been so—” He stopped, raking a hand through his hair. “Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

Y/N stood slowly, her heart aching at the sight of him, so torn up and angry with himself. “Logan, this isn’t your fault,” she said firmly. “He would’ve found a way no matter what. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

His eyes met hers, filled with guilt and something else she couldn’t quite place. He shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She stepped closer, her voice soft but insistent. “Then make me understand.”

Logan exhaled sharply, his gaze flickering to the floor. “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted.

Silence settled over them, the kind that felt louder than words. Y/N watched him carefully, waiting for him to say more, but he didn’t. He just stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, as though he were fighting some invisible battle.

Her heart ached, not just for him but for the distance that had grown between them in the past few days. She wanted to reach out, to close the gap, but something held her back.

Finally, she broke the silence. “I should… I should get some rest,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan nodded, though the tension in his body didn’t ease. “Yeah. You should.”

She turned away, her movements slow and deliberate. Each step toward her room felt heavier than the last, the silence behind her pressing down on her like a weight.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob as her thoughts swirled. She could feel his eyes on her, even from across the room. She didn’t have to look to know he was still standing there, watching her retreat.

For a moment, everything stilled. The air felt charged, like the world was holding its breath.

Then, without thinking, she turned around.

Her steps were tentative at first, as though she wasn’t entirely sure of what she was doing, but with each step closer to him, her resolve seemed to strengthen. Logan didn’t move, his body frozen as she came to a stop in front of him.

Her eyes searched his, and before he could say or do anything, she leaned in. Her lips pressed against his, soft and hesitant at first, but filled with a depth of emotion that made Logan’s mind go blank.

For a moment, he didn’t react, too stunned to process what was happening. But then instinct took over, and his hands came up to cup her face, pulling her closer as he kissed her back. The kiss deepened, raw and electrifying, like fireworks exploding behind his closed eyes.

Her hands found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as though grounding herself. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly, afraid she might disappear.

Everything else faded away—the apartment, the guilt, the fear. All that existed was the two of them, and the overwhelming realization that this moment had been building for far too long.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other’s. Logan’s hands remained on her waist, his touch firm yet tender.

For a moment, neither of them moved, caught in the stillness of what had just happened. The silence between them was heavy, yet not uncomfortable. It was filled with unspoken words, emotions neither of them was ready to name just yet.

Y/N’s lips curved into a small, slightly bashful smile as she pulled back, her hands slowly releasing their grip on his shirt. “We got school tomorrow,” she said softly, the corner of her mouth twitching with amusement.

Logan blinked at her, the weight of everything lifting just a fraction. Then, unexpectedly, a low chuckle escaped him, followed by a soft, almost boyish laugh. “Yeah… we do,” he replied, his voice laced with warmth and something close to disbelief.

For a moment, they both laughed together, the sound filling the quiet apartment. And for the first time in days, it felt easy—like they weren’t two people carrying the weight of unspoken feelings and complicated histories, but just two people who had found something good in each other.

It was almost ridiculous, the way her words made them feel like teenagers sneaking around after curfew. But maybe that was the magic of it—the way they could find something simple and sweet in the middle of the chaos.

As the laughter faded, Y/N’s gaze softened. “Goodnight, Logan,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

His lips tugged into a small, lopsided smile. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

She lingered for a second longer, as though considering saying more, but instead, she stepped back, her hand brushing lightly against his arm before she turned and walked toward her room.

Logan stood there, watching her until her door clicked shut. He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as a mix of emotions swirled within him—hope, fear, and something he wasn’t ready to name.

In her room, Y/N leaned against the door, her heart still racing. She pressed her fingers to her lips, a faint smile tugging at the corners.

They both knew this wasn’t the end of the conversation. There were things that needed to be said, feelings that couldn’t be left unspoken forever.

But for tonight, it was enough.

And for the first time in days, it felt like maybe—just maybe—everything was going to be okay.

XXX

[taelortot]

The Sun and the Moon

Part zero: Introduction (four screenshots and drabble)

Characters are in college!!!!!

Megumi Fushiguro was not known to be the most patient person in the world. Growing irritated with those who took up too much of the allotted time he allowed for. This would apply to basically everything— getting ready for the day, deciding on what to order at restaurants, perusing the grocery store when only going in for one item— and the list goes on and on. His patience was limited, growing thinner and thinner as the days passed. Megumi was also not known to be the sweetest man in the world, no no no. Quite the opposite really. Snapping at those who interrupted him, growing angry with people who got off task, and frustrated when no one could pay attention for more than 5 minutes.

That applied to everyone. Everyone he’s ever interacted with his whole life. Everyone who has looked his way.

Everyone except y/n.

It baffled his friends. Seriously throwing them through a loop that the man who yelled at them for speaking over him, was now allowing this petite girl to interrupt him to say the clouds look pretty.

“They do, baby” he would smile, turning his full attention to his girlfriend, taking in her beauty as she looked towards the sky.

Huffs and sighs coming from his friends, eyerolls and arms crossing as Megumi allowed his girlfriend to point out little shapes she saw in the puffy white clouds.. instead of continuing to discuss the plan for the mission they were going on in a few days. When his attention eventually returns to where it should have been, his hands always find their way to the girl who is sitting as patiently as she can. Holding her hand in his, calloused thumb brushing over the pretty promise ring he purchased a few months ago. Or one hand on the back of her neck, fingertips massaging her skin, running his fingers through her soft vanilla scented hair.

It wasn’t always like this. It took time. It took time to realize she was always going to be 20 minutes late no matter how early she started getting ready because— “I couldn’t decide between this pink skirt or the other one” or “I couldn’t find my wedges so I had to change my whole outfit to match these ones” and Megumis favorite “I lost my cherry lip gloss that you love so much so I had to find it, doesn’t it taste good?”

So he learned to be patient with her. Only because y/n is hands down the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on. AND, she always gave him road head when they are running late to make it up to him.

Oh and he’s so fucking in love with her it’s stupid.

So fucking in love with the vanilla scented girl.

Sweet and syrupy. Sticky and warm. Like sugar cookies and waiting for Santa to come down the chimney.

Giving Megumi a taste at the childhood y/n insists he should have had.

At first Megumi couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that y/n was definitely not all there—In a constant state of carefree living. At first, he truly wondered if she was dropped on her head a few times—only because the shit that came from her mouth were absurd most of the time.

“Do you think if I pet raccoon I could train him to dance?”

“I really wish I could see an alien and ask it if they like ice cream— oh my god what if they don’t even have ice cream? Should I buy some just in case they visit me tonight?”

“Do you think your puppies can smell when I’m sad?”

And that list goes on and on and on. Mostly consisting of questions Megumi has now learned how to answer. Even if the answers don’t make sense.

"I'm pretty sure he could learn to dance, sweet girl."

"What flavor do you think they would like, baby?"

"I think they can sense your emotions, pretty girl"

When I say it took time for Megumi to really understand y/n, I mean it took TIME. But, after finding out the girl has severe adhd, it all made sense. Now he can sit back and enjoy that funny things she does.

As well as relishing in the comfort she gives him. It's like no other. How understanding she is, how she cares for him, how she takes care of him in ways he cannot comprehend. No one has ever taken the time to understand him, to REALLY understand him. Growing fiercely protective of his baby, keeping her safe from those who wish to tear her down in any way they could.

"you're not stupid, pretty girl. they are just jealous of how beautiful you are"

Now... that's always a touchy topic for y/n. Sure, the girl may be a bit ditzy and unaware-- but, why would she need to have a brain when Megumi could do all the thinking for her? A word Megumi heard a lot was 'bimbo', a word he had to look up after some frat guy called y/n that. And... while that might be correct, Megumi didn't see anything wrong with that. Well, the only issue he had was that every person who saw y/n sexualized her. Other than that, he had no issue with how naive and attractive she is. Always making sure to grab a handful of her tits whenever any male looked at her chest a little too long. Earning a giggle and a-- "Gumi, that tickles!"

God she was so innocent. And soooo in love with her boyfriend of 1 year.

There was something about the way she looked at him. A twinkle in her eye or something. It started from when she first made eye contact with him, as if the word stopped and he was all that mattered.

As if he's the one who drags the stars out of the dark every night.

As if he is the reason the moon shines so bright in the dead of night.

Or maybe Megumi was the moon to her. Illuminating the dark to guide her home, keeping her safe from what lurks in the shadows.

Like the way the moon influences the tides with its gravitational pull, Megumi pulled her in whatever direction was best for her. And no matter what, with Megumi by her side, she knew there would always be another bight night.

Another night to sleep safely.

Another night to hear the owl's hoot.

Another night to stay up late talking to the love of her life.

Just another night to be with him.

His little innocent girl— well mostly innocent. The things he’s done to her would surly send them both to hell.

But!! We can discuss that later.

Anyway, there isn’t one thing Megumi wouldn’t do for y/n. He would go to the ends of the earth just to see that pretty smile. While he remained standing with a cool and calm exterior, his body vibrates when he sees his girl. His chest on fire when he sees her smile. Oh god, and don’t get him started on her laugh. When he dies, he hopes that’s the last thing he hears.

It’s like on a semi cloudy day, the way the sun peaks out from behind the clouds, shining rays bursting through to create the most elegant shadows. Or when the sun shines down on painted glass, a mosaic of colors dancing on the sidewalk.

Maybe she’s just the sun.. maybe y/n is Megumis' sun. The thing that keeps him warm, the thing he needs every single day to survive, the light in his dark heart, reminding him that there will always be another day.

Another day to see the sun.

Another day to hear bird chirping.

Another day to be see the love of his life.

Another day to kiss her.

Another day to hold her.

Just another day with y/n.

taglist: @vellichor01 @loveyislost @gradmacoco @koreluvsspring @ersharyzst

[365emotionlessfaces]

@schemmentits

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 8 WC:~1.9k

When lunchtime came, Melissa was glad to see she had made it to the break room before you. She took the opportunity to warm up your food for you, knowing she’d get to see your smile again. After the morning she had with her little eagles, she would be considering retiring to the Bahamas, except you were here.

She had just sat down with her own plate of food when you came through the door. Melissa could tell the exact moment you smelled the food on the table, as you broke out into a huge grin and made a beeline for the table. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach. That happened all the time with you, so she was getting good at ignoring them. Melissa let you take a few bites before she asked about your plans for the Franklin Institute. She dug into her ziti, as both you and Barb took your turns excitedly chatting about your plans for the night. Of course, Melissa took her turn, telling her friends the parts she was looking forward to most.

Just as Melissa finished, Jacob came running in the door, clinging to a piece of paper like it had just saved him from drowning in the Delaware. Janine piped up from the couch. Melissa hadn’t even seen her come in.

“What’s that?”

When he revealed that he was holding an invitation to the Aspiring Teachers Program, Melissa felt her entire body tense up. It had been years since she had attended, but Barb was the only other teacher Melissa had heard talk about the Program throughout that entire time. Apparently, Barb hadn’t heard about it much either because she seemed surprised that the Program was still running.

“I did that once. Worst week of my life,” Melissa thought back to her week in the Program. She thought about that week more than she liked to. Was this a sign she shouldn’t let go of Parent Trap? As Melissa was replaying that night in her mind, the night she broke two hearts, she heard you say that you had been in the Program, and that it had actually done what it was supposed to and inspired her to teach. ‘Lucky for her,’ Melissa thought, genuinely happy that you had a good experience.

Jacob mentioned that it was in Boston this year, and then revealed that he hadn’t read the entire paper by exclaiming confidently, “I’ve never been to Boston in the fall.” Melissa smirked as you corrected him about what time of year it took place in. When he had actually read the paper, he said something about a great opportunity for diversity, and Melissa just rolled her eyes.

Janine piped up again, looking directly at you, “Wait, isn’t that where you met that-”

Poor girl didn’t even get to finish her sentence before you interrupted. “Wonderful teacher who inspired me to follow my dream of inspiring children to learn? Yep, that’s the place!”

Yeah, because that wasn’t suspicious. Melissa gave you an inquisitive look, and she noticed that Barb was giving you a similar one. She also noticed that you didn’t notice either of them because you were too busy having a conversation with Janine through your eyes.

She and Barb decided not to press the issue, so the room turned to discussions of the rest of the day, field trip included. The rest of lunch flew by, and before Melissa knew it, it was time to teach once again.

“This was the best tasting ziti I’ve had in my entire life! You just keep getting better!” Melissa loved when you complimented her food. It made her weak in the knees. Good thing she was still sitting down.

“You say that every time. I think you lying,” Melissa turned to see Mr. Johnson, who had just finished pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Nope, Mr. J, she just keeps outdoing herself,” you replied to the janitor. Melissa found it extremely difficult to ignore the butterflies anymore, and she couldn’t help the blush rising to her face.

Melissa fought the urge to just tell you how she felt right then and there. Instead, she just smiled and managed to say, “Thanks, hon.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t lie about something so important.” Melissa’s smile broke into an all out cheesy grin. Whether or not you were joking, the idea that anything Melissa did was important to you made her feel all bubbly inside, and she just couldn’t help the big ol’ grin on her face. She watched as you finished cleaning up your spot at the table, and said goodbye to everyone. The redhead’s smile lasted long after she had returned to her classroom for the day.

Melissa didn’t see you again until everyone was boarding the buses. She was so busy getting a headcount that she had forgotten to try and get the seat next to you. By the time she was sure she had all of her little eagles accounted for, you were already sitting with a student. Melissa thought she might be able to sit at least in your vicinity, but one glance showed no available seats except the very front row.

Melissa watched as you talked animatedly with Janine and the students beside you, and took her seat. She attempted to read some of the book she had stashed in her purse, but it proved to be a fruitless labor. The children surrounding her interrupted every other sentence. After a whole three minutes of that, Melissa put the book away and decided to just entertain the children.

The Institute was as fun as Melissa remembered. She’s always down to learn something new about her hometown, okay, just not from some clown who’s not even from Philly. The girl was from New York, for Christ’s sake! Melissa was so frustrated by the fact that this girl from New York was the volunteer guide-‘they’re gettin’ what they paid for, if ya ask me’- that she was focusing like a hawk, paying attention to every word that came out of the girl’s mouth, waiting for her to slip up so she could prove she’s a big phony.

Despite Melissa being so zeroed in with the guide all day, she made sure she was never far enough away from you that she couldn’t see you. She looked over to where you had already laid down your blankets and saw a few children trying to lay practically right on top of you. They were surrounding you, each one trying to get closer than the last it seemed. Sleeping bag in hand, Melissa made her way to you, and when she got close enough, she heard a child whine, “But I wanna sleep next to her!”

She took her opportunity. “Jokes on youse guys. I get that spot,” she said, shooing the children so they would make room. She tossed her sleeping bag on the floor and glanced at you. You had turned to hug a kid who was crying because he couldn’t sleep right beside you. Melissa couldn’t help smiling at how sweet you always were with the kids.

She laid down, laying on her side to face you, and propped her head up in her hand. After you had mirrored her, facing her and propping your own head up, Melissa had to tell you all about the New York girl trying to teach her something about Philly, to which you just smiled at her, before sharing your own excitement from the day. She loved how your eyes shined when you talked about things that excited you, and she couldn’t help but give you a big smile of her own as she listened to you talk.

She was ready to kill the alien that tore her away from you.

A kid had screamed loudly, claiming an alien was here, and the rest of the kids went berserk. Melissa had never seen a group of children disperse so quickly, especially not a group of this size, so she shot up and immediately began trying to reign some of the little humans in. It took almost a half hour, but with all of the teachers from Abbott working together, they got the kids resettled. Melissa thought things were returning to normal, when Gregory came rushing up to you, admitting that he couldn’t find one of his students.

This wasn’t Melissa or Barb’s first rodeo- although it was the first time Barb had been compared to an alien- so they took charge of the situation. They split everyone into pairs, except for Ava who went off to get her eleven hours of sleep, and sent them to different floors to cover the entire Institute. Barb and Melissa went downstairs to search, leaving the younger teachers to search the upper floors.

Barb seemed to think it was the proper time to bug Melissa with more questions about her love life. “You know you can’t have them both, right?” The woman had started.

“What’re ya talkin’ about?” Melissa already knew what Barb meant, but she’d be damned if she gave in to Barb so easily.

“You know exactly what I am talking about. That girl upstairs and the girl from Chicago,” Barb pushed.

“She's not from- Look, I know,” Melissa sighed. “I thought I was ready to- I thought I could move on, but then Jacob this mornin’ with the paper from the Program. What if it was a sign that I shouldn’t let her go?”

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti, you are my dearest friend, and because of that I cannot lie to you. Let. Her. Go. You didn’t even tell the young girl your name, and I’ve only ever heard you refer to her as Parent Trap. Do you even remember her name? How would you know if you found her? You think she carries around your stuffed toy everywhere she goes, on the off chance that she’ll see you, recognize you after all these years, and leap into your arms to ride off into the sunset together?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Melissa couldn’t look the other woman in the eye. She knew that holding out hope that the young girl would waltz right back into her life one day was fruitless. Some fever dream, but God did she want it so bad.

Then there was you. The woman who took Melissa’s life and flipped it on its head. The woman who had been right by her side for the last two years. The woman who made Melissa smile so much that she might start losing her rough and tough reputation.

Melissa knew what she had to do. She and Barb finished checking all the rooms, and once they confirmed Jamir wasn’t on the first floor, they made their way back to their fellow teachers. As they walked down the hall towards the group, Melissa quietly admitted to Barb some of the thoughts going on in her head, and the plan to tell you how she felt about you.

As they approached, Melissa’s eyes were glued to you until she felt Barb’s hand suddenly grab her wrist. She looked up to see Barb more shocked than Melissa had ever seen the woman. It was like Jesus had appeared in the hall of the Franklin Institute. When Melissa followed her friend’s line of sight, her uninhibited hand flew to clutch Barb’s upper arm.

“Is that-” Barb asked as quietly as she could.

“Ronny,” Melissa whispered, not necessarily in response, more so in shock, but she had answered Barb’s question, nonetheless.

Part Nine

[drvirgus]

Glow

Danielle X Reader

Description: Despite your initial distrust of Dani's relentless optimism, you discover that having someone as bright as Dani in your life is exactly what you need.

Warnings: insults; trauma; harsh words; foul language; kys/kms jokes; naughty jokes; drinking; smoking;

Chapter 19: Mezzo mix

Masterlist

———————————————————————————

This was something Yn definitely wanted to avoid. This whole situation. This uncomfortable situation, filled with oppressive silence and nervous glances that kept shifting.

Yn sighed. Not because she was annoyed. Okay, maybe that was a lie.

She was annoyed.

Annoyed that Jihye kept pulling her hand away whenever they accidentally touched.

Annoyed that Jihye was so obviously trying to avoid this meeting.

And most of all, annoyed that Jihye wasn’t talking.

Normally, silence wouldn’t bother Yn in the slightest—she actually preferred it. But she knew that Jihye was a chatterbox, and that made the silence feel even heavier.

Jihye, having noticed the student council president’s sigh, looked up from her laptop. A nervous grin played on her lips as her eyes darted around, already searching for an escape route.

Yn finally looked at the slightly taller girl and closed her own laptop. She ran her tongue over her dry lips to moisten them, then folded her hands together, trying to steady herself.

“What do you want to drink?” she asked, her gaze locking onto Jihye’s. But instead of meeting it, Jihye hastily grabbed the restaurant menu and buried her face in it.

Yn sighed again but didn’t say anything further. She simply leaned back in her chair, her eyes practically glued to Jihye. She just watched the girl in front of her, unaware of the small smirk forming on her own lips.

“A Fanta,” Jihye finally answered, slamming the menu onto the table—louder than expected. She winced, bowing apologetically to the people who turned their heads at the noise.

Yn had to fight the urge to burst into laughter.

Cute.

That was the only thought in Yn’s head as she took in the slight flush on the cheerleader’s cheeks.

“What about you, Yn?” Jihye asked with a nervous chuckle, finally gathering the courage to look Yn in the face.

Yn, still smirking, cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. The barely noticeable smile faded from her lips. “Mezzo Mix,” she answered, making Jihye furrow her brows.

Noticing the unspoken question, Yn gave a small nod. “It’s a mix of Fanta and Coke,” she explained.

Jihye nodded in understanding, then suddenly declared, “Then I want that too.”

Yn hesitated for a moment.

Cute.

It didn’t take long for their drinks to arrive. Since this drink wasn’t available in this country, the waitress had to mix it herself, though that wasn’t difficult.

Yn waited. She didn’t even realize it, but she waited for Jihye to take her first sip. She didn’t want to miss a single second, a single reaction.

Jihye lifted the glass to her lips—lips that Yn was particularly focused on. Yn watched as the cheerleader’s eyebrows rose, her eyes widened, and then her mouth opened slightly.

“This is really good,” Jihye said, much more enthusiastically this time. A broad, genuine smile spread across her face.

And just like that, Yn smiled too. Much wider than expected.

Jihye froze.

She had done it. She had made Yn smile!

Okay, that made it sound like Yn never smiled. She did. More than people would expect. But all of those smiles were fake—masks Yn used to hide behind.

But this?

This was real.

A smile that could drive Jihye insane.

A smile that turned this previously awkward situation into something better.

Jihye, who had wanted nothing more than to escape before, now never wanted to leave. She wanted to stay. Right by Yn’s side. She wanted to see her smile like that again and again.

But there was also a slightly selfish side to Jihye. A side no one knew about. No one except her.

Jihye was the perfect child. Good grades, a flawless reputation, a perfect smile. Always cheerful, always friendly, always helpful.

But she could be different.

She was jealous. Possessive.

Selfish, if you wanted to call it that.

She wanted to see Yn smile like that. She really did.

But only if she was the one who made it happen.

Only if she was the one Yn smiled at like that.

She was very possessive…

A side of her that no one knew about.

No one knew this side of the perfect Jihye.

———————————————————————————

Taglist: @sixflame438 @saysirhc @illithharmony @somedaydream @yuyuy90 @wonyoungssi @peranoo @gornoi @multiliker @wtfisthisnoclueman @he------len

[shannonsketches]

Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,

Anime:

GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)

VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!

Manga:

GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.

[queenoforeos]

Ruian scowled. “I’m afraid I don’t have a way of preventing that at the moment… but give me some time, and I’ll do whatever I can to sever your connection to the system. It’s risky, and there’s no guarantee that you’ll still be… functional… after this, but it’s the best I can do.”

Functional.

Ena didn’t like that word being used to describe her. It gave her an unsettling feeling.

“In the meantime… I don’t know how much comfort this will be,” Ruian admitted, “but I believe I can create a backup of your consciousness. If we need to, I can make a new body for you.”

it would be so funny if mizuki’s secret just. wasn’t related to their gender like at all

like of course it obviously is but what if. “yeah im (gender) but everyone already knows that it’s not even a secret my secret is that im actually super rich and have 93 billion dollars stashed under my bed”

and then we kill them and ransack their house and split all the money between us

[imminent-danger-came]

I really am so sad I don't like isat. The themeing was very good